the new poppy

please log in. thank you.

    little tragedies

    Share
    avatar
    reckless(LOD)
    Admin

    Posts : 757
    Join date : 2009-06-28
    Age : 22
    Location : Louisiana

    little tragedies

    Post  reckless(LOD) on Wed Jul 20, 2011 9:06 pm


    i think she sliced her wrist and watched the blood drip. she sat there squinting at the magnificent red against the dull, white tiles. you could scarcely hear the momentous noise of blood hitting linoleum. it was like a thunder clap. drip, drip, drip. it was silly how no one heard such a disturbance.

    her head didn't begin to spin until the droplets became a pool.

    that's when she got worried.

    she was afraid that the cut wasn't deep enough. she was afraid she wouldn't die. others would be afraid that they would die, but not her. so, she stroked the knife carelessly and squeezed her tears as edge met flesh.

    the shriek of utter pain followed the final caress. it ripped a hole into our existence. it twisted us out of bed, forced us to see the meaning behind insanity. no eyes were to look away at that magnificent red on those dull, white tiles! the devil himself had kept our eyes wide and alert.

    that night the floor screeched for us to clean it. yet, no one dared touch that brilliant red. we held it there as a reminder of careless behavior. we only dared to clean the red off our feet. our tears echoing through the house, our shame oozing out of every pore.

    i watched as the red swirled with the water and made a glorious pattern. the pattern that i would never really forget.

    and then the red was gone off the floor, and we sobbed....
    avatar
    reckless(LOD)
    Admin

    Posts : 757
    Join date : 2009-06-28
    Age : 22
    Location : Louisiana

    Re: little tragedies

    Post  reckless(LOD) on Wed Jul 20, 2011 9:16 pm

    pieces of a puzzle



    i strongly doubt that there was ever a time when madeline was ever really okay. my mother insists there was. she's always moping about the times were everything was 'a-okay.' these were the days before my father left. in my mother's perspective everything was perfect when my father was around. i also strongly doubt that. the bruises she would fashion were horrendous (in emily's perspective). emily is an over exaggerat-er. although, i choose to believe her because one thing i can remember is the screaming.


    the screaming is the only thing i really remember from my early childhood. i was never allowed to see anything else. madeline would lock me in a closet and force me to count to a hundred, my hands positioned over my ears. the screaming was louder than she expected and i heard clearly. at first it scared me but soon it made me angry. this horrible, shaking fury. it would come without warning and rip holes into me, then the fire would start in the pit of my stomach. a burning sensation that would make me kick and scream louder than mama. the fire was my enemy, it made me bloodthirsty.


    this anger started the day madeline opened the closet, bleeding from her nose and bruised. she had long scratches and perceptible finger prints on her neck. madeline wasn't crying but i could see this deep, ferocious hatred in her. she became a wild animal.


    madeline never really looked at me that night, i was glass to her. instead of taking me downstairs to watch television, she locked emily, martha, herself and i in her room. madeline put earmuffs on me that time and forced us to shriek all the way to a hundred. the screams were blood curdling.


    that night we never left the room and the next day when my mother knocked softly at the door, madeline told us to stay in the closet. we didn't leave the room for two entire days. that's when the fury started building in me.

      Current date/time is Wed Jul 26, 2017 8:30 am