|
 Menu
|
|
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
|
Choices
Contributed by ShadowDaughter
on Thursday, 24th March 2005 @ 06:44:25 PM AEST
Topic:
short
|
Didn't read the pages assigned in Julius Caesar that night.
She runs over to me, right, runs like she doesn't care that who the hell ever runs on the first day of school. Runs unsnared by our coy morning (it's all about the endings), runs in that long thriftstore skirt with more color in it than a Monday can handle, and I shut my eyes for a sec because sudden movement always did make me blink.
She's right by me. Better at starting to run than managing to stop, as usual. A few extra steps and she learns, skids, twists to face me. I choke back a laugh. She's learning everything pretty quick these days, flirting with sentence-ends . . . never figured her as one to fast-forward.
She tells me she's decided she wants a tattoo on her wrist; a star, a pretty black star to stain the skin so she can't die without ripping a sky apart. Insurance. She'd rather dream in color, maybe, but black's a fair price to pay-- security against more dangerous shades doesn't come cheap. I guess it never does.
A tattoo, she says . . . I'm still thinking needles and wondering how many stab wounds she'll need to stay safe (they never taught us enough about Brutus in AP lit) when her hand finds mine. Finds it with a clumsiness wiser than my smooth finish.
A burst of red and black. We're fragments now, stained glass learning to have jagged edges. It occurs to me that pretending is hell on the nerves.
For this split shaded second it's okay to be sitting here, muscles tight, tears sliding quietly down in a cliché truer than anything new, holding fast to her hand and leaving crescents because sometimes you just can't let go.
In a moment she pulls away. The senate steps are no place for a murder.
I memorize her hand as it withdraws and my gaze catches on the fingernails. They're red, one more parenthetic tribute, apologetic red (nails are safe) that's a little too wistful to do much. Red. I feel another laugh building somewhere in the back of my throat and it's ragged as the first. Caesar never needed Brutus (did he? god, did he?) and AP lit only . . . only gets you so far . . .
I watch her chip away at the polish.
Copyright © ShadowDaughter
... [2005-03-2406:44:25]
(Date/Time posted on site)
|
|
<<<<<< Story Index
>>>>>>
Advertisments:
|
|
Story Rating
|
Average Score: 0
Votes: 0
|
|
|
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including story
title etc.
|
|
|
Re: Lessons in Sky-ripping
(User Rating: 1)
by EternitysLyre on Friday, 25th March 2005 @ 01:21:51 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Pretty ^^.
But of course, you should know I think that. You made it more and more abstract as the story developed, (*caught it on the forum and was addicted to it since then*).
Now, to ye who readeth this, and have flitted down to the commentaries for help:
This isn't a passage you would benefit from reading again, it's a passage you HAVE to read again (not just cause it makes you feel all tingly inside), or be the author of, to fully grasp. So go read. |
|
|
Re: Lessons in Sky-ripping
(User Rating: 1)
by blowfish_jane on Saturday, 26th March 2005 @ 04:04:46 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
That was brathtaking Nora, It really does help to re-read it twice to fully understand the story.
I liked it alot.
Jane |
|
|
Re: Lessons in Sky-ripping
(User Rating: 1)
by lostinmyself on Saturday, 26th March 2005 @ 10:44:29 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Wow..Nora...
I had to read this 4 times..and I still wanted to read it, again and again...
"She tells me she's decided she wants a tattoo on her wrist; a star, a pretty black star to stain the skin so she can't die without ripping a sky apart. Insurance. She'd rather dream in color, maybe, but black's a fair price to pay-- security against more dangerous shades doesn't come cheap. I guess it never does."
That is the part that caught my breath...this is awesome in a sad way, hun..
Great write, Phil xxx |
|
|
Re: Lessons in Sky-ripping
(User Rating: 1)
by Fionndruinne on Friday, 29th April 2005 @ 05:56:32 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
I liked it then, I like it now. Part of what makes it "poetic prose" is that some of the imagery is... too poetic for a story, one might say. Which makes it a better and more original story, methinks.
Eheu! Keep it up.
Andrew |
|
|
|
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others