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Month: September 2018

Narrative project

Narrative project

We had it so great back in San Francisco, bustling streets cute petite shops. After we lost dad we lost it all, we live on a seemingly ancient farm In the middle of nowhere, I travel a grueling 2 hours to get to a bleak girls school. Why couldn’t my life be normal, I had been driven to plain mind teasing insanity.

When they came it was sudden and brutal, we fought with our hearts pounding in our chests. Once they had left there was a weight lifted off our shoulders. Our eyes filled with panic, letting the past events sink in. I remember scraping their lime green blood out from under my nails.  I heaved little Edison onto my throbbing shoulders.

‘Are they coming back,’ he squeaked.

‘I don’t know,’ I said glancing at the crimson horizon.

Their brutal and careless way’s leaving us scarred not only physically.

They came back later, that time taking Edison. Their strobe sticks leaving us covered in dark blue tendrils.

We always knew Edi was different, eccentric, on the spectrum? But we didn’t think it would be use to freaking alien life!? We still don’t fully comprehend why he’s s a part of the pure ones, and why they freakin’ stamped it on his arm.

Me mama and Edi were having supper when we saw their bright light and heard the loud whirring ship. That time they were more brutal and had little to no sympathy. Their tall thin figures clutching their sticks with focus. They headed straight for Edison almost not noticing me or mum. A taller broader shouldered one latched onto Edison.

He wailed in pain.

‘MUM, WHAT, WHAT ARE T-THEY DOING’ He moaned.

‘Let go,’ she screamed her eyes glazed over with tears.

The thing gave what resembled a smirk to its companions, I grabbed Edi’s free leg and welled up all my power to yank him away just for one of the things fingers to slip off. My legs ached. One by one my fingers started to come loose, my hand slipped. I may’ve lost his grip but I was determined not to lose him. My ears rung and sweat dotted my freckled forehead. He was steps away from the ship by the time we had time to react, by the time we had caught up their blindingly bright ship was meters off the ground.

We mopped into the house staring at our bland half eaten food. We didn’t dare move, we mopped into our rooms. Loneliness was like a big black blanket, a blanket of fear and sadness, it frayed at the edges from it becoming my only resort, it blurred out my hearing. This blanket instead of warming wrapped you in a bitter numbing cold.

Later we woke to the soft crimson sun rising, rather than my now familiar white noise I heard mumbles,

‘Delta project, subject 2895’ said the voice.

I stumbled out the front door dragging my robe along the floor. It was Edi lying on the ground.

I went to touch him but he banged his he and thrashed his arms.

‘Get off me,’ he said with a cold stare almost emotionless.

‘Who are you!’ all the blood rushed from my face realizing the fact he didn’t recall who I was.

‘I’m your sister’

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, he got better week by week, memory’s trickled in one by one. He’ll never be the same but certain bits of early childhood are blocked out, but maybe that’s how it should be.

With my sudden surge of memory over I walk into the therapist’s clutching Edi’s hand.

We’re at our lowest low here, I glace at the seemingly ancient therapist his eyes wrinkled around the corners. I read the brushed brass sign reading his name, Dr Ufo.  How ironic.

He looks at me,

‘It’s pronounced you-fo’, his voice dry and cracked.

I glace at the rhythmically ticking clock, hoping time would stop and things would go back to how they were, cute petite shops and bustling streets.

100wc (rope picture)

100wc (rope picture)

Goal- to mirror my beginning and ending

 

The grip, as they call it was a particularly brutal punishment , it would beat your skin raw leaving bruises and scars. The rope stained with crimson blood constantly moving and vibrating. Tears glazed the victims eyes . You stood motionless as though you where a brass statue, perfectly still with the rope rubbing and moving, your tears staying pearched perfectly underneath your eye. The guards watching with a smirk, the public chanting as the guards push them back onto the narrow pavement. You throat dry from you constantly trying to scream. The grip as they call it was a particularly brutal punishment.

100wc ‘but what colour should it be?’

100wc ‘but what colour should it be?’

Goal- to use description well

As I rode the crowded school bus home, I cought sight of my mum at  the door in a baggy pair of lightly washed overalls,  a garment  she’d never wore due to their  light tone  and not suiting her formal aesthetic . I leaped out’ve the school bus and down the pavement.  She was holding two small paint tins, one a periwinkle blue another a lime green. She was mid sentence, speaking to my dad,

‘But what colour should it be?’ She picked up a plastic bag and unwrapped a paint brush, I tossed my bag to the side, and picked up the brush, it’s bristles fresh.


 

100wc (pink, river, cook, nervous)

100wc (pink, river, cook, nervous)

Goal- to experiment with new tone

 

I can’t believe he’d do that, we’d been together for 3 weeks and out’ve nowhere he decides that I’m not the one, says that I’m too much of a petty princess, how dare he. I slip on my fluffy pink slides and stroll down the stairs, my mascara smudged from the constant rubbing of my eyes, from the river of tears I created. I head into the kitchen and try to cook myself some 2 minute noodles, too nervous to attempt to make anything else. I stuff the bland rubbery strands into my mouth getting smudges of crimson lipstick on them.

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