Update:
I have a lot of random writings,so, I'll dump them all in here.
Index:
Story one: Non Pokemon: One shot: Running (this post)
2: Placeholder Title: Chapter one: Also this post. Non Pokemon.
3. Popcorn
4. Dream: The Doctor and The Giant
5. MLP:FIM as colts as humans 1
=====Story One=====
This is something I've written a long time ago about my first grade of school. Looking at it now makes it seem foreign.If this is not the place, feel free to move the thread, or banish it to the moon, Celestia-styled, but if you're doing that, make sure to tell me because that would be fun to watch.
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Running
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Placeholder Data
Chapter One
I have a lot of random writings,so, I'll dump them all in here.
Index:
Story one: Non Pokemon: One shot: Running (this post)
2: Placeholder Title: Chapter one: Also this post. Non Pokemon.
3. Popcorn
4. Dream: The Doctor and The Giant
5. MLP:FIM as colts as humans 1
=====Story One=====
This is something I've written a long time ago about my first grade of school. Looking at it now makes it seem foreign.
-----------
Running
It must have been a parent teacher conference. There were my class mates, myself, and my teacher shaking her head at her desk with my parents. I hadn't been home yet and I was anxious. My abba told me to make some friends. A lot of people had been telling me that. It seemed wrong though, all these other kids were already made. My mommy said to talk to people. That made a lot more sense.
I left the classroom to wander through the hallways. I spotted a girl with curly black and shiny black shoes that she always wore. I don't think I talked to her yet, but I remember her shoes. Once, she brought a turtle in for show and tell. I came up to her, forgetting to make eye contact as always. "What's your shoe size?" She didn't answer. She had that weird look on her face, like everyone else. I turned around and ran back to the classroom. I felt like my name was being called. I was always high strung because of that. "Abba?"
My mother was still in the room, but my Abba was standing outside, glued to his cell phone. I looked over my shoulder, the curly girl was gone.
"Hey, Radio."
I looked up. My abba handed me a pack of gum, the kosher kind. "Remember what I told you?"
People liked to be given things. I ran back down the hallway, making a turn for the art room. At the last second I decided to go to the science room instead, we were growing plants without dirt. I saw the bigger grade's plants. They were little seedlings with white roots spreading across the water. I wanted to see them again, but the room was in the part with dimmed hallway lights and locked doors. Maybe I could find that girl again. I couldn't remember any names, just curly blond hair, curly black hair, curly hair with a keepah on it. If that boy found me I'd have to do like they did in movies. I thought I heard my mother's loud voice, the kind she reserves for telephone companies and and dirty houses. I grew paranoid and turned back, running into another girl from the other class. Long curly hair. Sheesh, everyone had curly hair! She didn't have on her uniform, just white, black and long sleeves. "Want some gum?"
"Thank you!" She took the piece with an upturned face. What did they call it? I just remember it being a good face, not the down face or the weird face. "You're Radio, right?" I nodded, not knowing how she knew me. The carpet was the same tone of blue grey.
Her feet were pink. "What's your favorite color?" I wondered aloud.
"Pink!" she cheered. Why did she cheer? Her pink shoes were a little grungy. I wonder what she ran through.
There were the yells again. I could hear my name being called, or maybe it was a trick of my head. I was teaching myself about Schizophrenia, characterized by delusions and halucinations... I yelled bye-bye, because I didn't know if it was good or not, and ran to the classrooms. She ran after me though, almost screaming. I guess she didn't like the dark.
I met my mother in a storm. "Come on, we're going home." She was angry again, for something. It could be anything. Apparently my abba was already in the car, my mom was practically running for the door and I was hungry. I still haven't been home. I caught up to her. "Has Shmuel been bothering you again?" she asked.
I don't know names, I know shoes. I had to go off the word bother. Annoying. Stalker. She was talking about that kid. "Can he leave already?"
"Does he bother you?" Outside was boiling, muggy. My mother opened the door and a scrambled inside. From there, the conversation turned to my abba, with random interjections from myself.
"The teachers say Radio's lying." My mother started. I growled. Teachers must be blind. "They say there's never been a problem with that Shmuel boy. " Shmuel must be the stalker. I wasn't fast enough to run from him yet.
"The principal says it's Radio's fault." My abba half talked the way he did when he was driving. I was still hungry, but afraid to speak. I had to wait for a blank spot in their sentences. I imagined raiding the fridge and taking the soda before my mother caught on. Maybe if I was patient, I could get food from somewhere.
I left the classroom to wander through the hallways. I spotted a girl with curly black and shiny black shoes that she always wore. I don't think I talked to her yet, but I remember her shoes. Once, she brought a turtle in for show and tell. I came up to her, forgetting to make eye contact as always. "What's your shoe size?" She didn't answer. She had that weird look on her face, like everyone else. I turned around and ran back to the classroom. I felt like my name was being called. I was always high strung because of that. "Abba?"
My mother was still in the room, but my Abba was standing outside, glued to his cell phone. I looked over my shoulder, the curly girl was gone.
"Hey, Radio."
I looked up. My abba handed me a pack of gum, the kosher kind. "Remember what I told you?"
People liked to be given things. I ran back down the hallway, making a turn for the art room. At the last second I decided to go to the science room instead, we were growing plants without dirt. I saw the bigger grade's plants. They were little seedlings with white roots spreading across the water. I wanted to see them again, but the room was in the part with dimmed hallway lights and locked doors. Maybe I could find that girl again. I couldn't remember any names, just curly blond hair, curly black hair, curly hair with a keepah on it. If that boy found me I'd have to do like they did in movies. I thought I heard my mother's loud voice, the kind she reserves for telephone companies and and dirty houses. I grew paranoid and turned back, running into another girl from the other class. Long curly hair. Sheesh, everyone had curly hair! She didn't have on her uniform, just white, black and long sleeves. "Want some gum?"
"Thank you!" She took the piece with an upturned face. What did they call it? I just remember it being a good face, not the down face or the weird face. "You're Radio, right?" I nodded, not knowing how she knew me. The carpet was the same tone of blue grey.
Her feet were pink. "What's your favorite color?" I wondered aloud.
"Pink!" she cheered. Why did she cheer? Her pink shoes were a little grungy. I wonder what she ran through.
There were the yells again. I could hear my name being called, or maybe it was a trick of my head. I was teaching myself about Schizophrenia, characterized by delusions and halucinations... I yelled bye-bye, because I didn't know if it was good or not, and ran to the classrooms. She ran after me though, almost screaming. I guess she didn't like the dark.
I met my mother in a storm. "Come on, we're going home." She was angry again, for something. It could be anything. Apparently my abba was already in the car, my mom was practically running for the door and I was hungry. I still haven't been home. I caught up to her. "Has Shmuel been bothering you again?" she asked.
I don't know names, I know shoes. I had to go off the word bother. Annoying. Stalker. She was talking about that kid. "Can he leave already?"
"Does he bother you?" Outside was boiling, muggy. My mother opened the door and a scrambled inside. From there, the conversation turned to my abba, with random interjections from myself.
"The teachers say Radio's lying." My mother started. I growled. Teachers must be blind. "They say there's never been a problem with that Shmuel boy. " Shmuel must be the stalker. I wasn't fast enough to run from him yet.
"The principal says it's Radio's fault." My abba half talked the way he did when he was driving. I was still hungry, but afraid to speak. I had to wait for a blank spot in their sentences. I imagined raiding the fridge and taking the soda before my mother caught on. Maybe if I was patient, I could get food from somewhere.
============
Placeholder Data
Chapter One
Milo
My feet are bare against the earth covered by a thick layer of fallen leaves that would never decay. I am surrounded by towering white trees with brown knobs all over their skin. The closest one to me has an arrow wedged into the bark. I pull it out, bark falling away with sap beginning to trickle out slowly like blood, white blood. The gash is replaced with another, the arrowhead more deeply buried into the bark, disappearing in gushing white blood. I look up to see a figure of a man with an arrow more accurately aimed, one that would catch my throat. I suppose when I was smaller I took off running, sprinting through a forest rumored to never end, but now that I am taller, I simply wake up. I yawn, rubbing my head against the hardwood floor, wishing it was rougher, colder, darker. This spot under the bed was the closest I had the lingering memories of my childhood.
I thought of the man in the next room, cradling my head during one of my, what he called 'blue-eyed fits', telling me about some boring study of prisoners being unable to sleep in the suffocating mass of fluff called a bed. I sighed, rolling over to face the ceiling, stumbling over my own two feet. I walked out to the roof, where the moon was nothing but a sliver free from color and the wind was an icy bite into my face. I curled up into a corner of giant curving vents, falling asleep the image of the blue moon from where I was born.
Jagger
I woke up to footsteps tumbling down the hallway, through the door, and into silence. I groaned, too lazy, to tired, to chase after him. I waited before slowly making contact with the icy floor who was getting no mercy from the stale air. I shivered, hopping around the hallways lined up with bnaged up, locked up, metal numbered doors. Eventually I found Milo in a corner of the rooftop, right under what was left of the moon. I left him there tiptoeing back to my own metal number planning my morning. I knew I would wake up before him.
Milo
I never had a chance to feel sleepy, to wake up and pretend I had never stirred from my curled up position. I had the air knocked out of me, my chest compacted by a man twice my weight so I could barely breathe, my stomach rising in my throat, making it even harder. I panicked, my feet clear off the ground, feeling blinded before remember optical devices and their uses. I was carried to the very edge of the roof, my toes just off the brick, letting me in into the early shuffles of pans on grease and dust on feet. Jagger swayed slightly, his head to my neck, eyes gazing at the same sights I so desperately tried to avoid.
"It's not like you to be up so high." He mused. "All you want to see is what you can touch but don't you ever wonder what it would be like to join the people down there?" He let go of me, nudging me towards the big empty block of air as he stepped away from the ledge, only to have me teeter, luckily stumbling into his arms instead of the that of the concrete, but once he had his grip on me, I wondered if the concrete would be as bad as I thought. For a moment, I saw the citizens of the ground below, jamming into busses, into borrowed cars, into crowded sidewalks. We stood there in silence before Jagger started walking back to the dim hallways, half dragging me to the cold wood floors.
My feet are bare against the earth covered by a thick layer of fallen leaves that would never decay. I am surrounded by towering white trees with brown knobs all over their skin. The closest one to me has an arrow wedged into the bark. I pull it out, bark falling away with sap beginning to trickle out slowly like blood, white blood. The gash is replaced with another, the arrowhead more deeply buried into the bark, disappearing in gushing white blood. I look up to see a figure of a man with an arrow more accurately aimed, one that would catch my throat. I suppose when I was smaller I took off running, sprinting through a forest rumored to never end, but now that I am taller, I simply wake up. I yawn, rubbing my head against the hardwood floor, wishing it was rougher, colder, darker. This spot under the bed was the closest I had the lingering memories of my childhood.
I thought of the man in the next room, cradling my head during one of my, what he called 'blue-eyed fits', telling me about some boring study of prisoners being unable to sleep in the suffocating mass of fluff called a bed. I sighed, rolling over to face the ceiling, stumbling over my own two feet. I walked out to the roof, where the moon was nothing but a sliver free from color and the wind was an icy bite into my face. I curled up into a corner of giant curving vents, falling asleep the image of the blue moon from where I was born.
Jagger
I woke up to footsteps tumbling down the hallway, through the door, and into silence. I groaned, too lazy, to tired, to chase after him. I waited before slowly making contact with the icy floor who was getting no mercy from the stale air. I shivered, hopping around the hallways lined up with bnaged up, locked up, metal numbered doors. Eventually I found Milo in a corner of the rooftop, right under what was left of the moon. I left him there tiptoeing back to my own metal number planning my morning. I knew I would wake up before him.
Milo
I never had a chance to feel sleepy, to wake up and pretend I had never stirred from my curled up position. I had the air knocked out of me, my chest compacted by a man twice my weight so I could barely breathe, my stomach rising in my throat, making it even harder. I panicked, my feet clear off the ground, feeling blinded before remember optical devices and their uses. I was carried to the very edge of the roof, my toes just off the brick, letting me in into the early shuffles of pans on grease and dust on feet. Jagger swayed slightly, his head to my neck, eyes gazing at the same sights I so desperately tried to avoid.
"It's not like you to be up so high." He mused. "All you want to see is what you can touch but don't you ever wonder what it would be like to join the people down there?" He let go of me, nudging me towards the big empty block of air as he stepped away from the ledge, only to have me teeter, luckily stumbling into his arms instead of the that of the concrete, but once he had his grip on me, I wondered if the concrete would be as bad as I thought. For a moment, I saw the citizens of the ground below, jamming into busses, into borrowed cars, into crowded sidewalks. We stood there in silence before Jagger started walking back to the dim hallways, half dragging me to the cold wood floors.
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