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Post by Delight on Jul 8, 2010 23:12:23 GMT -5
Do you love me?
The last line on the page burned in her mind. She shouldn't have written a poem for him. She hadn't meant to when she started. But her mind had gotten away from her and before she knew it there was a poem that was almost a confession of how she felt about him. About the one boy she'd ever felt something more than friendship for. She'd had to write another, for him to give to Tootsie. And it'd just felt so odd writing it. She was aiding in something she didn't want to help do. But she'd done it for his sake. She'd rather see him happy than ruin his chance at being so.
Ruining it would be worse than helping it. She would feel guilty for the rest of her life about it. And she couldn't live with guilt. It made her want to rip herself apart when she was guilty, want to scream that she'd done her wrong.
But now she sat on the street outside of the lodging house in Manhattan, on the curb actually. Her head was bent and her eyes were squeezed shut. In her right hand was the poem she'd written for Bear, folded so only the first stanza showed. To rip it up and let it sit in the street until rain washed it away would be the end of it for her. She would use that as the first step to admitting she had no chance and she had to move on. But if she kept it she'd always think about what she felt. And that'd be wrong…because…because…she had no right to love him.
But should she keep it, she'd always have to keep it hidden from the others. No one should know just yet. They couldn't know. She'd get all flustered if someone asked and she'd try to deny it she knew it, but the proof would be there…on this sheet of paper. Delight pressed her free hand to her mouth to muffle the dry sob that escaped her. Her eyes slipped to the sky and then she shut them, drooping her head further and letting her hand fall onto her knees.
"These violent delights have violent ends," Delight quoted sadly. "And in their triumph die." |
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Post by Skittery on Jul 10, 2010 11:09:13 GMT -5
Skittery flicked his burnt out butt on the ground. His dead cigarette glowed at the tip a little. He grounded the fire into the ground, suffocating it from oxygen. He shrugged and headed out of the lodge house. Skittery had been in the house for the whole day and needed something to do. He snatched up his cane from the corner and stood outside. He leaned on as he looked outside and for something to do. As the people flowed down the streets, Skittery noticed nothing of interest. May young ladies eyes rested on him, before their mother's dragged them along. When class was involved, the hoity-toity shouldn't even glance twice at him. Skittery shrugged. He didn't really care. Skittery wasn't technically supposed to look twice at them, well, there was nobody to drag him the other direction either, so it was a moot point. He smiled after the girl, who was still glancing over her shoulder quickly. He tipped his hat and continued in the other direction. Skittery needed to be polite and not get her in trouble. She was pretty....
As he continued, he stopped suddenly. Skittery could have sworn he heard light crying. He looked around and couldn't find a single person that may have been even remotely in tears. Skittery did his signature shrug and started to walk again. That's when he heard a sad voice speaking. Huh, what a depressed voice that is, Skittery thought and was about to ignore it, but then he saw that Delight girl from the Lodge House. She was looking rather depressed. Skittery felt rather smug. For once, it wasn't he that was glum. He shrugged again and sat next to her. "Why the hell are ya sad?" he asked roughly. And now he knew why everyone got mad at him. Being around depressed people is really aggravating. Especially when it came from that whiny writer from the Newsies...
Skittery tapped his cane off the his shoe and shrugged. He didn't exactly know what to say. Perhaps some insight to his own line of thought would be great advice. He was great with beliefs that will settle sorrow. "Ya know, it can't get no worse, once ya hit rock bottom ya can't get any lower," he said. That was very true. There was no lower then Rock Bottom. However, one could stay on the bottom forever. Skittery himself couldn't find the way out. Must be in the ancestry. Maybe he was destined to be the king of Rock Bottom... King would be nice, anywhere... Skittery decided. He shrugged once more before paying attention to the sad girl.
Word Count;; 475
Muse;; Good!
Tags;; Delight |
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