So my sister is in Ventura. Great….. I’m glad she gets to spend time with her friend and all that. But I’m stuck in Fresburg, without anything to do, and without Sarah. She be like me only source of fun. Sure I got me video games, and me computer, and me art, but it’s just not the same when I be by me’self.

    I’m trying to convince me parental units that I should be allowed to take the bus out to Javvawavva, a caf?across the street from Fresno High, and a few blocks from Tower district. This is no small distance, considering that I live next to (not in) Clovis.

    Gyarr… I’ve been saying things like that more often… and “loo loo loo.” I think Annaliisa has something to do with this.

    And someone, who’s name starts with an E and ends with an N, needs to hold up his ends of bargains…. Not that I’m complaining, or anythin’. He’s just been scarce these past few weeks.

    I wrote this thing. I don’t know if it’s done or not. But you get to read it. Right here. You’ll feel so special when I’m a famous artist-writer-pirate that I shared this little thing with you all those years ago. But that won’t be for a while… A very long while.

    I’m actually nervous this time. About showing my short story, I mean. I think it’s because I have no Sarah to talk with me about it. …Man! Why do I have to miss her so much?! It’s not like she’ll be gone for the rest of the summer or anything. It’s not like she dead, or anything.

    *sigh* Seems like everyone is leaving this town, and even though I know they’re coming back (or at least planning on it, but you know, they could get killed), it feels like I’m just watching my friends sail away into the distance (with not but a name and your word, it’s the one I need.)

I.    miss.    you.
 -Liv



title pending….

    The figure stood on the edge of the roof of the apartment building. Twenty stories high, it was. No one would survive a fall from that edifice.
    The figure sighed audibly, though no one was there to hear him. He pressed his black lip-sticked lips together, pulled his fish-net sleeved down all the way to his wrists, as if he were cold, and ran his hand through his chin length black hair; all for, conceivably, the last time.
    He took a step closer to the edge with his Doc Martened feet, drew a breath….

    and didn jump.

    He played with his lip ring with his tongue; it was his equivalent to a nervous twitch. He did his best not to think about who would feed his cat, or who would walk his neighbour, the blind Mrs. Norris, to the supermarket: he focused on the ordeal ahead.
    He didn want to go, or to leave the people whom he come to love so dearly. But at the same time, he knew he had to. It was irreversible now.

    The overcast sky watched him as it began to cry soft tears of cool water. He stood as still as a gargoyle.
    He stretched out his arms, as if embracing the rain, then he took another step….

    and fell.

    There was no concrete canopy to keep him from his awaiting fate this time. But for one fantastic moment he was flying.


    Flying free from the terrible world around him.


    Then?BR>


    he was gone.


    A man owning a fruit market was sweeping the street in front of his booth, and as he brushed the gutter, he thought he could hear crying…
    He shrugged the next moment, as if to say hatever. Not important.?And he went on sweeping.
    He hadn noticed the figure jump, nor did he notice the remarkable glistening feathers that fell from the sky and landed in his rubbish pile, or the singing of all the heavens wrapped up into the voice of one lone bird.

    No.

    He was too busy looking down, and sweeping,

                                                                   sweeping,

                                                                                  sweeping.

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6 Responses to “”

  1. Ethan_Emissary Says:

    You are hot

  2. Ethan_Emissary Says:

    Okay. That was my dipstick brother, high on paint thinner, no doubt, taking advantage of my absence from the computer. I go now to further beat the living crap out of his left ear. If you desire proof, look at that text; there is no period on the end of the sentence. If you know anything about me, it’s that I try to be as absolutely correct as possible where my grammar is concerned. 
     In regards to your post, I will get back to you on your story as soon as possible. Honestly. Life has just been a little beyond crazy right now.
    But now my brother craves further punishment for his sins.

  3. sarahgrin Says:

    I’m coming home tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  On the very first train!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
      ::snif::  … I miss you, too.  Really I do.  And after my first read of your lovely story, I can see nothing I’d like to change.  Masterful usage of the semi~colon!  You have grown as a writer.  This piece seems more like a poem to me than a story… you could expand it, though.  Or not.
      And between the two of us, I’m the one who hasn’t comitted mutiny, so my word’s the one we’ll be trustin’.
    I love you.

  4. arun3 Says:

    bones, sinking likke stones..

  5. Anonymous Says:

    ARRG CAUSE CAPS GET THE POINT ACROSS ARRG!!!

  6. Ghetto_Box_Smash Says:

    yes the artist comunity is every month.and i made a mistake.it is in fact this friday, the first.not the 2nd.my bad.i will keep you posted.

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