10/3/11

I promised I will post on the weekend but that ended up as me getting lazy. So here are 10/3/11-10/6/11 in the following posts.

I know, I know that Burgundy isn't a town it's a provenience in France, but that was all I can think of at the moment.

She seemed so happy on the outside, but her words proved something different. Sadness plagued her like the glue. Tears were silently shed each night, and yet no one would ever know. No one would hear the words she wanted to say, nor would they even bother to listen. She was widely known for her beauty, her brains, but most of all for her smile, but never her words. Whenever she tried to say something, cameras would flash. Whenever she tried to show her writing, it would be easily forgotten the next day. Up, down all around, and well renowned, but never listened.

“Have you seen Meggie’s hair? It was so last year, god she’s so old fashioned,” said one of Meggie’s ‘friends.’ It has always been like this for quite a while, where she kept on hearing back stab after back stab story. She was always ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tears would threaten to fall, only to be blinked away. Anger carefully hidden away, an award-winning smile forced on her lips. And they will never know, never know that she overheard them all, never know the trouble they would be in if she used action instead of words. Never knowing what will be in store for one of them one day, till its one day too late. And she will never know the consequence will be to suppress your emotion for too long, till now.

“Oh yes the ponytail is so old fashioned, anyone that even has it is just a plain uncreative loser,” a bunch of giggles started erupting from the five girls. The sound was enough to wake up the whole town.

“It’s-” the girl barely got the first word out, got a slap on the cheek. A dark red spot was forming over the girl’s pale face, as she lay open-mouthed. “What the hell was that for?!” she shrieked.  But no one got a word out as Meggie started slapping the girl again, harder and harder.  But before she can transition into something else, one of the other girls managed to get Meggie into a tight neck hold.

“L-let m-m-me go pl-please?” Meggie choked out. But instead of her loosening the grip, she just tightened it, till darkness started to overcome them all.

It was the next day; there was nothing left but a pale of ashes, under the old willow tree. The six girls weren’t heard from till ten years later, in a little European village of Burgundy. 

Him and Her

I lost my notebook on Monday -_-
And I don't have that teacher again till tomorrow, so I won't be getting it tomorrow. But at least I remember the story, so back to your regular (unusual) scheduled (not) post.

            It was strangely comforting, the crowd, the stuffiness, the heat that causes sweat to stick in the most absurd of places. It was hard to see, bodies pressing so close together, I should have been hyperventilating by now. But I can’t, even when I started to press forward into the thickest of the crowds. All for him.

            The screams were pounding on my headache, my eyes wanting to shut everyone from my view. Sweat was gathering onto my forehead, and I was tired, really tired. And yet I couldn’t sleep, or stop smiling. Even if by now my teeth were plotting some kind of revenge on me, and yet I couldn’t care. The screams, the girls with their awed parents, and laughing boys was somehow giving me energy. My feet were taking a tired step forward, when it felt like at any moment I just might buckle. And it was all for them.

            I was starting to get close now I can feel it. My body was tingling wildly his scent was close by. It felt as if at any moment I just might faint from it all the excitement, and my nervousness. And I couldn’t stop, till I was near him, till I made him sign an autograph for my sister. Who was at the moment getting sicker each second, and it was scaring me to death. “Hey, watch it you [censored],” said a familiar voice. My stomach dropped, my hands started to become clammier but I wouldn’t stop.

            “Good job just a couple more autographs a picture or two, then you can take a rest,” said my publicist. Her voice was filling my ear, from the headset. I started to set a clock ticking downward to it. The important talk waiting impatiently in the air. So I did what he said, and signed a couple more autographs, catching glimpses of screaming girls. Catching a glimpse of her.

            I was close, really close; my heart was beating excitedly as I saw him stop. An unsure expression on his face, which was good because at least it meant that I had more time to catch up with him. Just a couple more steps, till I can catch up to him, get that autograph, and go on with my life where nothing happened, except hoping that my sister got better.

            She was familiar, and yet I couldn’t pinpoint where exactly I saw her. I can hear my publicist saying I should hurry up, instead of just standing there like an idiot, but I wouldn’t listen. I turn to the nearest girl, and was about to ask her that girl’s name, but she was just gaping wildly, frozen, as if I just turned her into an excited statue. And I couldn’t do anything about it, I was about to yell for her to come here, but a taller, leaner, supermodel girl tripped her.

            I was falling, flat in my face with him watching. Great, I’m now going to be very embarrassed, and he surely won’t sign that autograph. And my sister will be very sad, and will probably just die. But I felt someone grab, my arm to steady me. Whoever it was was oddly cold. I was about to look up and thank the person, but instead I started to gape. It was him, and he was right in front of me, not letting go of my arm.

            “Hello,” I say to the gaping girl.

            “H-h-hello,” she stuttered back. I smile,  a funny feeling opening up inside of me telling me that weird stuff are going to be coming up along the way.

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