As I was walking down the street I passed this freaky kid that turned back and watched me walk away from him. He seemed to be studying me what is that kid's problem, watching people as they walk down the street. Such a creepy little freak, although he wasn't so little. He looked to be growing some stupid "Jew-fro", haha those aren't even cool. I wonder why he was watching me is he a stalker, an assassin, or just another drunk walking in the daylight. Now that I think about he looks a bit wasted, or stoned, if only a cop would walk by right then. The only other thing that would've been funny is if he would've fell flat on his face.
I saw a stranger who didn't seem to see me. It looked as though he was a public school student. He was tall from my perspective and seemed to be studying something. He was reading a book anxiously as though he was in dire need of the knowledge that it contained. Maybe he had a test coming up. He was most likely thinking anxiously, studying. He was staring at the book with a look of disgust and hatred. The look of a student who decided not to study the week before and is now paying the consequences of having to worry and fear because this is not just a coincidence, it's a pattern of behavior. This pattern of behavior has sunken his grades into a hole and he now relies on passing this test that he did not study for so that he can pass the class for the year. He studies faster and faster but he doesn't retain any of the information because his hyperactive brain is to busy arguing with itself about why he didn't study. He tries to justify it in his head but he knows the truth. He knows he is a slacker and he is now paying the price. He keeps turning the pages faster and faster but he decides to quit because of how counterproductive this study session has been. He hasn't learned anything and has managed to somehow stress himself even more than he already was.
She was the first person I saw and the only one I remember. Over the gentle sobs of my sister I asked my mother why she had her ears covered and eyes squeezed closed. My mother said that it was probably a headache from the altitude but I wasn't so certain. She looked like she was in agony. But I thought she was beautiful, anyway. She had midnight hair, straighter than a pin, that fell well bellow her waist and covered her dark eyebrows. Her sapphire eyes were set above high cheekbones as smooth and light as porcelain. She looked like something out of a story book to me so, for the next hour we shared on that little plane, I thought of nothing other than what her story could be.
Standing there Smoking Nails the shade of blood Hair teased to its highest point Dress like a second skin Bored Scared In need of money Giving herself to a stranger Thinking she's worthless Her whole life to do something amazing And this is what she ends up doing Filthy men groping her Loving her falsely Sorrow weighs her down Pushing her beneath the tears Beneath the cuts Beneath the hate Till it all becomes too much Killing her
And then he saw her. He saw her long dark hair, her deep amber eyes. He saw all of her but it wasn't enough. His eyes drank her in, intoxicating himself. It wasn't enough. He needed more than just now, he needed forever. But her eyes were shining, and her smile was unforgiving, and the train she stepped on read "never."
Standing at opposing ends Looking at you Looking at me Our eyes meet Music plays Dancers dance Big crowds Bright lights Scrambling people everywhere Suddenly silence Nothing is said Nothing is heard I look away He looks away Strangers
The first time I saw this guy he freaked me out. He is very tall and dark black hair. I saw him at one basketball game I was at, I was leaving and he was standing outside by himself in the dark smoking. He looks like a weird stranger. He wore a black hat. The guy just glared at me while I was waiting for my ride home. I was panicking because what if he kidnapped me or something, I'm just an innocent kid who wants to go home. I kept moving backwards to get away from him but it didn't work he kept coming closer, and closer, and closer. All I could remember that day was that evil stranger dressed in black kidnapped me. Until this day I won't ever forget that awful experience.
I stopped when I saw her. I stopped because I knew. I knew exactly how she was feeling. The excitement in her eyes was evident as she gazed around this vivacious city. Her eyes widened as they scaled the magnificent buildings, her mouth in a constant smile. She was amazed. The innocence in her eyes was refreshing. They were pure, as if they have never witnessed any of the danger and violence of the city; they held only the good. The noise from the traffic and the chaos from the thousands of people walking the streets couldn't stop her from admiring the beauty surrounding her. In that moment all I saw was her and the city which I loved. I was fascinated with the youthful energy that she gave off. Fascinated, perhaps, because I was that same girl once before.
Her arms were embellished with the inky tendrils of faded tattoos. Her hair was piled on top of her head, streaked, bleached, and dyed a wide spectrum of auburns and reds. Her petite frame was clothed in black leggings, which looked unbearably uncomfortable in the dry Austin heat, and a threadbare band t-shirt with a fraying hem hung on her bony shoulders.
I sat, gawking at her, my ice cream cone becoming obliterated by the afternoon sun.
The girl held in her hands a thick volume of Game of Thrones, her face completely buried in the black and white print, never raising her eyes once to watch where she was going. She was much too cool for that. For consideration. She was free from restrictions and rules, societal and legal alike.
I imagined her t-shirt was some thrift store find, or the first thing she picked up off the floor when making her speedy getaway from home. She hitchhiked, I'm sure, from some small town like NoOneCares, Oklahoma. Or maybe she traveled here with her friends in the back of a Volts Wagon van on some cross country road trip. Days spent exploring every little town they passed through with nights consisting of fire-side chats and lying under the stars.
I mean, what other ways are there to travel when you're young, wild, and free?
Free.
From her parents? From the suffocating presence of her small town community? From him?
Her tattoos and piercings screamed of some wounded past, sculpting her into a strong, self-reliant individual. The kind of girl who worked two jobs and returned home to her shoebox apartment where she lived with no one except her record player and laptop. But the way her eyes glowed excitedly as they scanned the words on the page, oblivious to the raging traffic around her, enticed and aroused my curiosity. I wanted to know her.
I imagined her strong yet kind. Care-free yet intellectual.
Independent.
But the way she walked, the way she dressed, the way she didn't care...
This is so good! The second you started describing the girl, which you did really well, I just wanted to know more and more about her. I can practically see her sitting right in front of me and I want to get to know her, too. She sounds interesting :)
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR!?" The aging man gaped at his reflection as the sheepish barber behind him muttered phrases of apology. The man stood up leaning closer to the mirror to examine the damage. "This. Is. Pitiful." He stated, shaking his head and stroking the one strand of gray hair that remained on his glossy, bald head. "I..I'm so sorry sir. It was an accident I swear! Let me make it up to you. No charge for the haircut." The barber offered with his best attempt at remorse. "That's not gonna fix it, you nut! Nah, I gotta do something quick." The man rushed around the black, leather chair and pulled up his sleeve to reveal his silver watch. "Holy hornbeam! It's almost 5:30! I'm supposed to be reffing a basketball game!" He hurried back over to the counter, picking up a black comb. At a desperate attempt to look presentable, the man combed the string of hair across his scalp. He slammed the comb on the wooden counter, proceeding to storm out of the barber shop.
As I was walking down the street I passed this freaky kid that turned back and watched me walk away from him. He seemed to be studying me what is that kid's problem, watching people as they walk down the street. Such a creepy little freak, although he wasn't so little. He looked to be growing some stupid "Jew-fro", haha those aren't even cool. I wonder why he was watching me is he a stalker, an assassin, or just another drunk walking in the daylight. Now that I think about he looks a bit wasted, or stoned, if only a cop would walk by right then. The only other thing that would've been funny is if he would've fell flat on his face.
ReplyDeleteEyes wide
ReplyDeleteMouth agape
Heart pumping
Palms sweating
Mouth stuck together
Legs become unsteady
Throat becomes dry
Seeing a stranger on the corner
I saw a stranger who didn't seem to see me. It looked as though he was a public school student. He was tall from my perspective and seemed to be studying something. He was reading a book anxiously as though he was in dire need of the knowledge that it contained. Maybe he had a test coming up. He was most likely thinking anxiously, studying. He was staring at the book with a look of disgust and hatred. The look of a student who decided not to study the week before and is now paying the consequences of having to worry and fear because this is not just a coincidence, it's a pattern of behavior. This pattern of behavior has sunken his grades into a hole and he now relies on passing this test that he did not study for so that he can pass the class for the year. He studies faster and faster but he doesn't retain any of the information because his hyperactive brain is to busy arguing with itself about why he didn't study. He tries to justify it in his head but he knows the truth. He knows he is a slacker and he is now paying the price. He keeps turning the pages faster and faster but he decides to quit because of how counterproductive this study session has been. He hasn't learned anything and has managed to somehow stress himself even more than he already was.
ReplyDeleteWorst feeling ever!
DeleteShe was the first person I saw and the only one I remember. Over the gentle sobs of my sister I asked my mother why she had her ears covered and eyes squeezed closed. My mother said that it was probably a headache from the altitude but I wasn't so certain. She looked like she was in agony. But I thought she was beautiful, anyway. She had midnight hair, straighter than a pin, that fell well bellow her waist and covered her dark eyebrows. Her sapphire eyes were set above high cheekbones as smooth and light as porcelain. She looked like something out of a story book to me so, for the next hour we shared on that little plane, I thought of nothing other than what her story could be.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful
DeleteStanding there
ReplyDeleteSmoking
Nails the shade of blood
Hair teased to its highest point
Dress like a second skin
Bored
Scared
In need of money
Giving herself to a stranger
Thinking she's worthless
Her whole life to do something amazing
And this is what she ends up doing
Filthy men groping her
Loving her falsely
Sorrow weighs her down
Pushing her beneath the tears
Beneath the cuts
Beneath the hate
Till it all becomes too much
Killing her
And then he saw her.
ReplyDeleteHe saw her long dark hair,
her deep amber eyes.
He saw all of her
but it wasn't enough.
His eyes drank her in,
intoxicating himself.
It wasn't enough.
He needed more than just now,
he needed forever.
But her eyes were shining,
and her smile was unforgiving,
and the train she stepped on read
"never."
Standing at opposing ends
ReplyDeleteLooking at you
Looking at me
Our eyes meet
Music plays
Dancers dance
Big crowds
Bright lights
Scrambling people everywhere
Suddenly silence
Nothing is said
Nothing is heard
I look away
He looks away
Strangers
I really love this!!! :)
DeleteA missed opportunity! This is excellent.
DeleteThe first time I saw this guy he freaked me out. He is very tall and dark black hair. I saw him at one basketball game I was at, I was leaving and he was standing outside by himself in the dark smoking. He looks like a weird stranger. He wore a black hat. The guy just glared at me while I was waiting for my ride home. I was panicking because what if he kidnapped me or something, I'm just an innocent kid who wants to go home. I kept moving backwards to get away from him but it didn't work he kept coming closer, and closer, and closer. All I could remember that day was that evil stranger dressed in black kidnapped me. Until this day I won't ever forget that awful experience.
ReplyDeleteI stopped when I saw her. I stopped because I knew. I knew exactly how she was feeling. The excitement in her eyes was evident as she gazed around this vivacious city. Her eyes widened as they scaled the magnificent buildings, her mouth in a constant smile. She was amazed. The innocence in her eyes was refreshing. They were pure, as if they have never witnessed any of the danger and violence of the city; they held only the good. The noise from the traffic and the chaos from the thousands of people walking the streets couldn't stop her from admiring the beauty surrounding her. In that moment all I saw was her and the city which I loved. I was fascinated with the youthful energy that she gave off. Fascinated, perhaps, because I was that same girl once before.
ReplyDeleteYippeee! I love this! Excellent work. I love the picture you paint of this girl. I can almost see her.
DeleteHer arms were embellished with the inky tendrils of faded tattoos. Her hair was piled on top of her head, streaked, bleached, and dyed a wide spectrum of auburns and reds. Her petite frame was clothed in black leggings, which looked unbearably uncomfortable in the dry Austin heat, and a threadbare band t-shirt with a fraying hem hung on her bony shoulders.
ReplyDeleteI sat, gawking at her, my ice cream cone becoming obliterated by the afternoon sun.
The girl held in her hands a thick volume of Game of Thrones, her face completely buried in the black and white print, never raising her eyes once to watch where she was going. She was much too cool for that. For consideration. She was free from restrictions and rules, societal and legal alike.
I imagined her t-shirt was some thrift store find, or the first thing she picked up off the floor when making her speedy getaway from home. She hitchhiked, I'm sure, from some small town like NoOneCares, Oklahoma. Or maybe she traveled here with her friends in the back of a Volts Wagon van on some cross country road trip. Days spent exploring every little town they passed through with nights consisting of fire-side chats and lying under the stars.
I mean, what other ways are there to travel when you're young, wild, and free?
Free.
From her parents?
From the suffocating presence of her small town community?
From him?
Her tattoos and piercings screamed of some wounded past, sculpting her into a strong, self-reliant individual. The kind of girl who worked two jobs and returned home to her shoebox apartment where she lived with no one except her record player and laptop. But the way her eyes glowed excitedly as they scanned the words on the page, oblivious to the raging traffic around her, enticed and aroused my curiosity. I wanted to know her.
I imagined her strong yet kind. Care-free yet intellectual.
Independent.
But the way she walked, the way she dressed, the way she didn't care...
If "freedom" was a person this stranger was it.
And I wanted nothing more than to be her.
This is so good! The second you started describing the girl, which you did really well, I just wanted to know more and more about her. I can practically see her sitting right in front of me and I want to get to know her, too. She sounds interesting :)
Delete"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR!?" The aging man gaped at his reflection as the sheepish barber behind him muttered phrases of apology. The man stood up leaning closer to the mirror to examine the damage. "This. Is. Pitiful." He stated, shaking his head and stroking the one strand of gray hair that remained on his glossy, bald head. "I..I'm so sorry sir. It was an accident I swear! Let me make it up to you. No charge for the haircut." The barber offered with his best attempt at remorse. "That's not gonna fix it, you nut! Nah, I gotta do something quick." The man rushed around the black, leather chair and pulled up his sleeve to reveal his silver watch. "Holy hornbeam! It's almost 5:30! I'm supposed to be reffing a basketball game!" He hurried back over to the counter, picking up a black comb. At a desperate attempt to look presentable, the man combed the string of hair across his scalp. He slammed the comb on the wooden counter, proceeding to storm out of the barber shop.
ReplyDelete"Holy Hornbeam" is making me laugh so hard. What is that?
ReplyDelete