Listening to: ParaNorman (in the living room)
Reading: Stories I wrote, and poems by E.A Poe
Watching: Purge plays Brewmaster (youtube)
Playing: Dota 2 and League of Legends
Eating: Nothing really.
Drinking: Cranberry Juice
I've been working on a story! It's not complete, and I intend it to be longer, but I always make it just this far and then I let go because I always over-criticize myself (according to a friend).
Any feedback would be appreciated, so be honest! There will be more character development, flashbacks, foreshadowing, plenty of language and intelligent, witty banter.. Bla bla bla...
The last time I saw you, you made me leave, I suppose the next time we met it would be fitting to let you go. While I'm no expert at distances, that fall you took was at least 50 feet. The last thing I remember was listening. Listening to my own heart, to the way you hit the floor, and finally the last echoes of your voice in my head. "Just let me go." You said. Again and again, that's all you told me. How could you ask for such a thing, considering all that we went through?
However, I did not cry; did not tatter the complete barrier that was placed over my face. Instead I stared directly into the sun and eventually drifted off. I dreamed about you, too. You were on your laptop, looking up a video I told you about, the weird one with the cat playing a piano. I wonder if you ever did see that video. You would have liked it, for sure. Eventually, somebody did ask me what I was doing up there, which is reasonable, considering the amount of news vans and paramedics that were present. I walked down the four flights of stairs and stared into the crowd. A man with 'FOX 5' plastered all over his outfit asked me if I knew what happened. I told them exactly what you wanted me to tell them.
"I know she did drugs, but I didn't think the effect would be this awful!" I lied. I cried, even though my voice was soft, to give them a good story, even though you were totally right, this was not going to end up on the news. They looked at me, then talked at each other, and after two more interviews they left, one with a bombshell blonde with breasts that would work as buoys and a man in his late-forties who removed his hat when he started talking to me, and I noticed he was clearly starting to bald. They all dismissed it a drug-related case and left me in the dust. I kept rubbing my eyes, pretending to be sad. I was a class act, you would have been proud of me. A police officer looked over me and asked me if I had drugs, which I replied no. He took me to the police station and asked me a few questions along the way.
"What's your name, kid?"
"…" I said absolutely nothing. I was doing by best to frown instead of smile. I even threw my hands up to my face. I know you would have loved how convincing I was.
"We don't have a phone." That was all I told him.
"Not even a house phone? You sure? Who can I call?"
My step-mom wouldn't believe me and my dad would be too tired to come get me. My mom might take the bus but it would take forever.
"Can you call the girl's mom? She knows me."
He was quiet the rest of the way. Not exactly sure what to make it out to mean, I guess. I asked him what would happen to you, to make myself would as naïve as possible. He went on to tell me about they would do a post-mortem tissue test to make sure there were drugs in your system, which made sense. I was a 5'11 male weighing in at over 280 pounds, with a full-grown goatee. It just screamed foul play. I wouldn't look past all that's on the outside either, considering I was so convincing that I almost convinced myself I pushed her off. Mind tricks are annoying.