Klarissa stirred her spoon in wide circles, watching her cereal-islands flood. She picked up the newspaper, skimming the front page article about the Orochimaru—the famous black-turned-white pop singer.
She popped off the cap to her sharpie, drew a speech-bubble, and scribbled, "I like little boys," inside.
It was quiet. The clock ticked. One of the tenants upstairs was fighting with their spouse again. Klarissa set her head down in her arms, and shut her eyes tightly.
She wiped down the counters before she left, vacuumed, and packed her things into boxes. Just in case.
She bought wrapping paper on the way, a small box bulging from her pocket.
The hotel’s security let her pass—which meant Jace hadn’t terminated her room yet, which was probably a positive sign. She took the stairs, trudging up the seven flights grimly, feeling her calves ache when she hit level four. She moved in fast, determined motions, like a warrior, she fancied. She hoped.
Her momentum brought her plodding down the hallway and around the curve until she was directly in front of his door—number 38…
When all of her determination abruptly deserted her. She stared at the golden number 38, and licked her lips, twice. She had gone over this—planned it out down to the last word in the three weeks she had been gone. She knew exactly what was wrong with her—them, and the point she wanted to prove.
Why, then, was she so terrified?
She busied herself with wrapping the box, clumsily smoothing down strips of tape over the plain red wrapping paper.
She took a deep, unsteady breath, and raised her hand.
Her knock was half-assed, too soft for even her to hear. She tried again, still soft but—
Jace opened the door. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her, but he ...
... middle of paper ...
...song he’d ever written, and the only one he never sang for money. Sometime the polluted orange moonlight flashed over the scars on his wrists, and sometimes a tear would slip from the lost girl’s closed eyes, but there was a quiet understanding between them, and a secret fire burned in each.
When he couldn’t find the words, the boy set the guitar down on the ground and crawled back to the girl’s side, not really understanding why, but doing so anyways.
A cloud made the moon blind.
In the sudden darkness, the girl rolled over until they were sharing a pillow, and stared hazily at his dark silhouette, eyelashes brushing his neck.
She touched a careful, uncertain hand to his chest, and listened to his heartbeat until she fell asleep.
He stayed awake, memorizing the curve of her shoulder and the sound of her breathing.
Both of them slept through the smiling dawn.
“You know the lies that they always told you and the love you never knew what's the things they never showed you that swallowed the light from the sun inside your room” The first part of this verse is referring to the lies from a possible drug dealer or just the people around her in general, lies that would make a person want to do drugs and take their mind some place else. The verse is also talking about how loved she really was but no one ever really showed her love like they could have. “What’s the things they never showed you that swallowed the light from the sun inside your room.” This part is about the remorse he feels. He keeps thinking that maybe he could have helped her or done something to save her from the darkness of the drugs. The darkness took the light, the light was her life, and the darkness was the
In the last stanza, he talks about how he left his heart with her on
Todd Haynes' Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story is a bold, provocative film. Using elements of drama, horror, biopic, documentary, and dark comedy, the film tells the story of Karen Carpenter, a popular singer who struggled with anorexia. Superstar features a constant, running critique of contemporary American society's views on feminism and commodity.
...was a desperate act of a lonely, insane woman who could not bear to loose him. The structure of this story, however, is such that the important details are delivered in almost random order, without a clear road map that connects events. The ending comes as a morbid shock, until a second reading of the story reveals the carefully hidden details that foreshadow the logical conclusion.
As he lay on the ground gasping for air, Aileen helped herself to his belongings then bent down over him and watched until his gasping ceased.
Julia starts to feel hopeless, Julia exclaims, “No matter how hard I try, no matter how fast I run, I just can't reach it. Even when I think I grasp it, I open my hand and it is empty” (183). Julia explains how upset, frustrated, and mentally exhausted she is. She simply feels like her efforts aren't enough. Julia’s grief has taken a toll on her self-esteem and emotional
He glared at her a moment through the dusk, and the next instant she felt his arms about
...nd just as fast the memories came they went. Cringing her teeth, she begins to count. “One, two, three, four, five…” As she is about to reach six she begins to feel a warm rush invade my inner skin, instantly she feels relief. It no longer mattered to her that that woman came, or that the trash was overflowing with weeks of junk mail or that she had a thirty page thesis due tomorrow. All that mattered was getting on the phone and phoning her mother, Nancy. “Mom?” says Janine.
She scrambled to her feet and threw back the woven door of her baked mud hut, squinting in the dark attempting to see what was happening. Her parents scooped up her two little brothers
Patricia timidly opened the door; hesitant to disrupt Paul’s solitude. As he glanced up at Patricia, she could see the melancholy in his eyes.
They sat in silence for about a minute, Thomas’s eyes piercing the back of her head as she focused intently at the wall to the right of them. She knew she could not avoid him anymore and she turned to meet his gaze.
Everything that she had worked so hard for had lead up to that moment. She didn’t quite know how to convey the emotions that were dancing around in her conscious being at that exact point in time. Perhaps the same feeling that an Olympic runner would have right before the gun fired to signify the start of the most important 50 meter dash in their life. Well, no matter how hard she tried, there wasn’t a specific situation that could accurately mirror what she was feeling. This was now, and this was her. This was the final performance, and the final chance.
Inhale, exhale, pushing another breath into the ether as he slid his arms behind his head, cushioning him as he felt his eyes close in the stillness of the night.
She said to her self in a scared like voice, "that was a close one" she was still shacking up a little but she knew she had to start the climbing down again.
“You are to go up this set of stairs” —the man gesticulates toward an old staircase that I hadn't noticed before—“take a left down the second corridor you come to. Your Roommate Manager will meet you there.”