Knives.
Knives.
What was she going to use them on next?
The silver blades shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, capturing her image on the blades before she turned away to grab another freshly scrubbed potato from the colander in the gleaming, porcelain sink. Chop chop chop, went the blade, smooth up-and-down motions repeated again and again, reducing the vegetable before her into ever smaller and smaller bits.
She loved these new knives, worth every penny. It made her want to chop other things, to test their abilities, to watch the thin blades slice through produce, flesh,...
Her mind was wrapped around the character sitting next to her. He reeked of sex and alcohol she was told at a young age don't judge a book by it's cover but this books words jumped out at her! She could not see his face his hood his him well. The things he must have just encountered plagued her mind. The smell burned her nostrils it mustered up some nostalgia from her adolescence. Her father had been caught cheating in the shed with miss Andrews. she never told her mother of the encounter. Her mother went to her grave never...
then the cold
A wet cold that moves through you that clings to your insides
A cold that whispers soft and true
_You will never be warm
Smile and huddle and see that here too in this fog, this unrelenting mist that covers everything
Here too is warmth, here too is a God
No shoes or socks in the snow, JaKK was only focused on finding the settlement. Escaping was the easy part, finding his family might be hard. Physical discomfort was not part of his programming, his body able to withstand any extremes of temperature.
The scientists had made them. Fed them. Studied them. Experimented on them. Killed them. Few were left.
After two days he was still beside the forest, the neverending trees.
He might be alone. Lost.
But for the first time in his existence.
He was free.
"But do you love me?"
Love? What is love? Love is a social construct. Love is an excuse to screw someone you think is hot. Love is a joke, a trap, an illusion. Love is what you wish for when you don't know how the world really works.
I see your skin and I think of you naked, wish for you to fall into my arms so I can possess you. Part of me wants you now, part of me wants you always.
There's only a limited extent to which these parts overlap.
Lust after you, to be sure. Like...
I was nearly there. The red top of the lighthouse was within my grasp. Just a few more steps and I would be in a place my father had talked about during many a bedtime story.
Pride emanated from him as he used to whisper to me about the foreign vessels that he was witness to on the shore.
I remember shivers radiating through my skin as he once described the stolen ship that had been taken over by the French pirates. Shaving so close to the rocks had caused much of the treasure to fall overboard into the sea...
Until now, she never thought of herself as pretty.
Each morning she would stare in the mirror and try to pick one good feature of herself, different from the day before. It was never difficult for her, she liked the color of her eyes and the thickness of her hair but until this moment, she had never felt put together.
But in this moment, with the boy of her dreams watching her descend down the staircase in a gorgeous white dress, she felt pretty.
She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she passed her Grandmother and felt...
The tape has been cut. The mayor has let crowds of tiny white men swim into the formerly closed building. The building was opened before overseers of its construction had planned, even approved of. Business seemed to be booming, all these men trampling one another to get at the precious items of the store. For one reason or another, most rejected the product. Some found it too expensive, some got lost in the labyrinth of shelves and whatnot, I even heard that some were trampled on the way in. But one man out of all of them, millions of them,...
Imagine you're sitting at a table and the drunk version of you sits before you.
What would you say to one another?
Would the drunk you tell you the truth, admit to all the honesty you bury deep within or would the sober you manage to quell all of the clarity with your denial and issues?
And which one is the real one at this point? You spend more time with alcohol than you do with the voices in your head these days. So if your friends were to join you at the table, which of the two of you...
It was within reach.
She just had to keep walking.
The key was to never stop.
Her heart was beating.
Her breath caught in her throat and she choked back a sob.
It had to be here.
Her arms were outstretched as she fumbled through the forest, moving as quickly as she dared over the treacherous ground.
Her shoulders shook as a her fear racked her whole body.
Her back stayed straight and her chin stayed strong, even as her spirit faltered.
They would not have lied to her surely.
They wouldn't have been that cruel.
They couldn't have been....