one day Others come, outsiders with no knowledge of us or the way we think.
they will observe those with More spit on those with Less, and that those of this Color do not talk to those of that Color. these Others will look on (more)as those of this Belief determine that their god is not love but hate and rage against those of another Belief.
they will visit the children, the young ones--perhaps in these innocent untouched minds there will be purity. but no. those boys who like Girls harass the boy who likes Boys. the Pretty girl casts snide comments like a net around the Average girl. the small children shove each other and fight instead of share.
these Others will only know this of us. they will go to their home and tell their fellow Others: here is a quarrelsome and violent race.
why are they like that? asks an Other
the Others think
they are only divided by the walls in their minds(less)
my nerves are little men with bulbous, translucent heads. they are the palest blue and when they struggle to produce thought or emotion you can see their alien organs inside light up; a throbbing light, really. they stand erect and look to each other for advice, but there is(more) none to be given - ever.
a thousand clapping mouths all wound up and rattling their cheap plastic jaws against a cheap plastic surface - the room is crowded with all these thoughts but none of them seem to matter; i cant think straight even though it feels like im thinking of a thousand things at once. $11.99 for this cacophony. the table is veneer, so it begins echoing and it is so strange to think that a thousand little noises can congeal into one heavy and flat one trapped within such an unassuming space.
i strive for the interpersonal connections i know i need to survive in this godawful world but i know that at the end of the day i am incapable of welding them.
the edges of her nails chipped and flaked; she could never drop the habit of biting them to shit though the act and product both disgusted her to no end. strange. she was a dying plant and the only thing i could do was watch her wither and come up with reasons why each stage of the decay was so beautiful to me. the nails would cling to fabrics and i imagined how painful that was.
cold bitter chocolate, the heavy snap that comes before the bite. all my sense sigh; we are all collectively relieved for the few seconds before we realize how much sugar has crawled in between our teeth and the damage that will cause if left unaddressed.
Moving across Europe in vast factions, occasionally fighting with others of our kind. Occasionally passing on information about where the feeding was good.
But not any more.
There was a time when the best entertainers would plead to be allowed t(more)o travel with us. To learn from us. Most were willing to pay the fee of entry. Most but not all.
They would lead to our eventual decline. We were sillh to let them go, assuming that their stories of our "depravities" would pass as just that. Stories.
How wrong we were.
Eventually word spread and entire countries banded together to make sure we were wiped from the pages of history and memory.
Those of us left gathered together to try to ensure our survival but alas. Some bitterness ran too deep and imbeciless like that "vlad the Impaler" decided to strike out on their own causing more harm than good.
But we learned.
And we grew cunning.
There are now only 7 of us left and we may be visiting you soon. The last of us. Toshow you the greatest carnivale in the world!
We took the three cheeseburgers from the fridge and left it at that. We weren't sure but in the end we just had a laugh and painted our faces blue and were only being kids for the day but then Barry came back and gave out to us so we(more) had to put the money back. It wasn't really supposed to have been available that Sunday anyway so we just went for the walk like we were told. The day was kinda warm so after we left our bags by the shore the water was a nice distraction. The fish were looking a little glum so we sang to them and it was great fun. But Barry made us stop because the old folks from the house over by the church were complaining that the peace was busted. We had to dry in the trees because our towels were all threadbare. It was OK because we didn't have to get back for another hour or so. The sky was a funny colour in places and the clouds were all damp looking. We didn't expect rain nor wanted it so we shouted at them to go away. The doors were all locked and the shutter closed when we finally returned. One was loose so we were able to look in and watch them eating the cheeseburgers. They looked very tasty and yum so we phoned for some new ones. They tasted yum too but were a little squished when we took them from the foil. The bed was nice and cosy but the headboard had too many rude words scratched into it. Barry said that he knew what they all meant but I think he was just being a prick. I don't know what that is thought but it sounds right.(less)
They were sitting eating dinner when Masayoshi spoke very casually. "You know, I think you're bigger than I am."
Gotou got through two more bites of his curry before the words caught up with him and he choked. Masayoshi cocked his head, the most innocent expression on his(more) face as he leaned forward worriedly and smacked Gotou's back with his open hand. "Are you okay, Gotou-san?"
"Don't SAY things like that," Gotou said, his face and ears bright red. They weren't in public, they were in his apartment sitting side-by-side at the low table, but- "Why were you even ...?"
Masayoshi shrugged loosely. He'd finished his plate of food already, it was balanced on the edge of the table and he looked at it, finding the empty plate far more fascinating (or at least, easier to face). "You just seem so..." Masayoshi's face had gone completely scarlet now, so at least they matched. "...big, when you-"
"Stop talking." Gotou's hand covered Masayoshi's mouth and they stared at each other, beet red and wide-eyed. After a moment he tentatively lifted his hand, afraid that Masayoshi was going to continue saying what he had been about to and Gotou wouldn't be able to handle it.
"Well it's TRUE," Masayoshi said indignantly. "Take off your pants, I'll prove it." He lurched forward, hands going straight for Gotou's belt - Gotou caught him by his shoulders but Masayoshi still got his hands on the waistband of Gotou's pants.
"What are you DOING," he yelped.
Masayoshi squinted at him. "Proving a point?"
"Masayoshi-" Gotou said, but he'd managed to work one hand down the front of Gotou's pants anyway, and the breath mysteriously abandoned him when Masayoshi's hand closed on his length.
"Oh, wow." Masayoshi said, eyes wide. "It's even bigger than I remember."(less)
Souji didn't go out much. It was easy to avoid the guilt when he'd been living in the city, far away from the scenes of shared crimes, easy to close his eyes and forget the people he'd betrayed, let alone the people they'd killed. At his new school, he(more) was just another face; no one ever thought it was strange how he went straight home from class every day, didn't go out anywhere, never seemed to make friends.
But he knew too well that Inaba was a small town. It was impossible to avoid everyone forever.
Souji was in a different class from Yosuke and the others, through some twist of fate; added to the fact that Souji didn't attend school very often-- "bereavement" was the excuse, a far too kind one-- it was nearly graduation before he ran into Yosuke at the shoe lockers. Souji froze up at the sight of him; they hadn't really spoken since that phone call, and that had been before...
"Just go," Yosuke said. He wasn't looking at Souji, eyes focused on his locker; his voice sounded tight in his throat. "I don't have anything to say to you. Just get your shoes and go."
Something about hearing Yosuke's voice after all this time, after all these events, opened a floodgate inside Souji's heart. Sometime very long ago, they'd trusted each other implicitly; but then Souji had kept his mouth shut, continued to keep his mouth shut, gone to the police station in March, and then everything he and Yosuke had worked so hard to build together had scattered away like fallen leaves in the wind.
Yosuke spoke again before Souji could. "I don't want you here. I don't want you anywhere near me."
Souji snatched his shoes from the locker and fled.(less)
bright yellow shorts made of windbreaker material making that swooshing sound that made you feel as if you were walking through some kind of sterilized factory where the titanic machines didnt create smog and soot and terrorizing noises, but instead that soft and rhythmic swooshing. for a long time(more) he thought they were swim trunks, and on several occasions, was tempted to test out his budding theories.
loneliness is not a hole in your heart or a black raincloud stalking your soul. loneliness is a wide, open, pale blue sky whose enormity is at first relieving; the clouds are those faint wisps of cloud (not the bulbous grandfather clouds) and when youve finally given up looking for the edges of the great intangible, you realize that tiny blades of healthy grass sprouts all along your feet and the grass, too, sets off chasing the horizon as it will for eons to come. loneliness is an entire world that you carry around within you and no matter how hard you try to focus and conjure up inhabitants or a change of scenery, it is simply the same sky and same grassy plain for months and years and decades until one day the inner and outer world overlap and you lose your bearings forever and when youre sitting on a park bench and two runners in their bright yellow running shorts pass you by, your senses remain ignorant of their swooshing presence because the big sky and the flat land is all you will ever know. (less)
Barney burst into the living room, "I'm coming in for some Bam Bam!" His hollering was seemed to lay upon the carpet like static, crackling up and through everyone's feet as they turned to face this large man in strange and frumpy clothing, his wide frame seemingly translated from(more) the geometry of the doorway.
One of the guests, a mild-mannered professional with the faint wrinkles of a fresh thirtysomething, chuckled nervously. He loosened his tie a little bit and lowered his drink. "Well hey Barney. What's Bam Bam?"
Barney's face split into a childish glee. He reeled to and fro, huskily chanting "bam bam" to himself in a quiet mumble, his eyes scanning the room briskly before settling on an ornate table in the corner. He rushed over in a waddling gallop, then swiped it clean of lamp and picture frames, the sound of falling glass and metal obscured by the din of Barney's being. The smile on his face became ghoulish, predatory, and he hoisted the entire table into the air by one leg.
He called out, chanting, "bam bam," the words echoing off of the plaster and wood of the living room. While swinging the table around, with guests stepping quickly out of its radius, Barney homed in on the nebbish guest from before who had asked about 'Bam Bam' and then walloped him square in the chest with the table. Air escaped from his lungs through his mouth as wood shattered and splinters and chips flew in all directions.
Barney laughed uproariously, dropping the table and pointing at the guest, who was now crumpled against the wall, "Yeah, there, that, yeah, that's Bam Bam' you motherfucker! Fuck you!"(less)