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Literature Text
She said yes.
Not exactly said it, but nodded her head from across the room in affirmation.
I brushed off a tear, as I took out an old engraved case from the drawer in my desk. It had been my father's, and his father's before that. My hands traced the wooden carving on the top of the case, intricate yet subtle, work of an artist long forgotten. The levers creaked as I pulled back the lid, revealing what lay inside. Exhaling deeply, I picked the object inside. I had the habit of keeping it ready for emergencies, but not once had it entered my mind that I would have to use it.
Once again I looked at her, standing there, across the room, in her favorite pink dress, one I had given her on her tenth birthday. She once had told me that this was her favorite dress, and she would wear it almost every day after school. The color had almost faded now, and the ribbon almost frayed at the end, but still, now it seemed that it was radiating some kind of glow.
"I love you," I said, my voice slowly cracking.
She just smiled back.
It was this smile that had captivated me over all this years. I would jump and dance around just to have her smile. She had her mother's eyes, big brown eyes that would light up whenever she saw me. Ever since her mother had died, it was as if she had forgotten how to smile. It was on rare occasion that she would tilt her head, and give a little smile, her eyes twitching on the corners.
A tear slowly rolled down her cheek.
Even before, I just couldn't see her cry. Every time those beautiful eyes watered up, I would do anything just to have her happy. I once had painted my entire face with black paint and made faces at her all day long until she smiled.
"Don't worry baby, Daddy's coming," I said, unable to stop the tears that were now falling down my cheeks.
I slowly brought the gun to my temple, and closed my eyes. Just before my eyes closed, I saw her disappear slowly, as if smoke was being swept away by a draft of wind. I pulled the trigger and a strong white light flashed in the front of my eyes, and then there was nothing.
Not exactly said it, but nodded her head from across the room in affirmation.
I brushed off a tear, as I took out an old engraved case from the drawer in my desk. It had been my father's, and his father's before that. My hands traced the wooden carving on the top of the case, intricate yet subtle, work of an artist long forgotten. The levers creaked as I pulled back the lid, revealing what lay inside. Exhaling deeply, I picked the object inside. I had the habit of keeping it ready for emergencies, but not once had it entered my mind that I would have to use it.
Once again I looked at her, standing there, across the room, in her favorite pink dress, one I had given her on her tenth birthday. She once had told me that this was her favorite dress, and she would wear it almost every day after school. The color had almost faded now, and the ribbon almost frayed at the end, but still, now it seemed that it was radiating some kind of glow.
"I love you," I said, my voice slowly cracking.
She just smiled back.
It was this smile that had captivated me over all this years. I would jump and dance around just to have her smile. She had her mother's eyes, big brown eyes that would light up whenever she saw me. Ever since her mother had died, it was as if she had forgotten how to smile. It was on rare occasion that she would tilt her head, and give a little smile, her eyes twitching on the corners.
A tear slowly rolled down her cheek.
Even before, I just couldn't see her cry. Every time those beautiful eyes watered up, I would do anything just to have her happy. I once had painted my entire face with black paint and made faces at her all day long until she smiled.
"Don't worry baby, Daddy's coming," I said, unable to stop the tears that were now falling down my cheeks.
I slowly brought the gun to my temple, and closed my eyes. Just before my eyes closed, I saw her disappear slowly, as if smoke was being swept away by a draft of wind. I pulled the trigger and a strong white light flashed in the front of my eyes, and then there was nothing.
Literature
'Empty' she says
Julie was fingerless on one hand, the left
It was a soft pad with three intact knuckles
and a partial thumb. The arm was pitiful,
skinny with the elbow pink, red, and jutting
out from her bent arm. Her veins were impressed
from the inside, showing hot blue
right through the skin;
that skin was pressed paper.
Julie was only a nickname,
the deliberate half-choke of her name, Julienne.
People never talked about the ugliness of her hand
or the diseases she seemed to readily inhale with
those shuddering blue breaths,
mottled white and purple lips.
They tended to talk about how maybe
Literature
For Your Consideration
Consider this:
We're going to go on a date, nothing fancy. Perhaps a burger and movie. Afterwards, I will let you walk me home, or vice-versa. There will be no touching, we will remain as pure as driven snow for this night, this glorious evening which will consist of red checker table cloths, Italian food (we nixed the burger idea, or we will at any rate. Linguini with mushrooms and white wine sauce is a little more elegant, wouldn't you say? Lady and the Tramp, they knew where it was at - we'll just push it up a notch) and coffee, followed by an action movie, any action movie, any movie will do. Consider that.
Rewind:
We met in a cloudy b
Literature
she said
i asked her
why she didn't write
any more than
she needed
and
she said it was
too personal
too exploitative
too painful
to line a page
with words
for me.
i asked her why
why she stopped painting
filming our
every moment
and
she said
(whispered, really)
she can't
her hands
too stiff
too old
too sad
to splash color on page
for me.
i asked her
why she doesn't love me
like she used
to.
and
she said
she's
too tired
forever
to answer that question
for me.
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I guess the title is appropriate, it does throw the readers off track!
Creative feedback is most welcome!
I was featured on DLD! May 23rd 2011 ([link]) Thanks!
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Plot twist...