tsemsie
I saw a flash of creamy chocolate skin, and shiny red fingernails, before a sound like an elastic band snapping, and a tremendous force.
I was clutching my cheek.
I'd been slapped.
She slapped me.
I gasped at the stinging pain, and the feeling of the blood rushing into my cheek, and the total shock.
I thought she cared about me. But she just slapped me. She hit me full across the face, with the pure intention of hurting me? Some friend.
I drew my hand away from my cheek and stared her in the eye.
"Thanks. Thanks a lot."
:]
Driving a knife through a body must be painful. Even to the person who's doing it. All the pushing and shoving through all the insides, knowing you were going to kill that person. Take away their life. The life they have. Just like your mom, and brother and sister have. Life. No Life.
Maybe It wouldn't matter, though. Depends on who you are killing.
Living doesn't mean you're alive. Does it?
:]
Bricks are pretty. No one sees them, They think bricks are ordinary and boring, but they're not. They're gorgeous. No one sees the color, or the soul, or the remorse that bricks feel inside. It's why they ignore them, and use them carelessly.
Bricks are pretty, I tell you.
I pushed at the brick wall, and then kicked, to feel how hard it was. It wasn't very. I could probably break off a few bricks If I wanted. It didn't seem hard. So I walked down to the corner, and broke off the first one I saw. It was the same as the others, rusty red, and slightly crumbly, but full of untold stories and soul. I dusted it off a little. Now what's a good name for a brick? I would ask my sister, but she already thinks I've gone mad...No need to replenish that. I think Lucy's nice. A brick would like to be called Lucy wouldn't it? A brick would like to be called something, after being rolled around and pasted carelessly onto other bricks by lazy workmen who just wanted to get to lunch.
A brick wanted care. That's why I was getting a pet brick, and naming it Lucy.