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| Tweet Topic Started: May 31 2009, 06:49 PM (327 Views) | |
| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:49 PM Post #1 |
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Please vote for your favorite drabble! Voting ends Friday, June 5, with winners (of both best poem and best drabble) posted June 6! All entries will remain anonymous until the winners are announced. |
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| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:50 PM Post #2 |
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[b]Entry #1: Untitled #1[/b] [QUOTE]It wasn’t supposed to be so hard, was it? He wasn’t asking her anything extraordinary. In fact, he wasn’t asking her something so ridiculously average she didn’t know how to go about doing it. It was an odd request for her brother to make of her. He was worried, she knew, as things out of the ordinary would confuse him a great deal. It was like when she had told her brother one day that she just didn’t like to talk to people (“It’s not that I’m too shy, Reegan. I just don’t want to”) and he had given her this look, as if she were a sociopath bent on living her life in seclusion. “I don’t want too much from you. I just want you to live—really live. Like stop holing yourself up in that room, brooding, and go outside for a change, you know? Breathe air that hasn’t yet been screened through. Is that so hard?” God, why was it so hard? But Mia knew why; she didn’t want to. She enjoyed living the only way she knew how. She was living her life the way she wanted to. She was living her life in her room, knowing only what she read and what she imagined, knowing nothing of what life really was. She preferred it this way. She enjoyed her life-in-a-nutshell, and how sheltered and protected she was from the brutality of what life really was. God, she enjoyed it. And she’ll enjoy every minute of it until she steps one foot out of her tiny, ten-by-ten slice of purgatory.[/QUOTE] |
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| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:51 PM Post #3 |
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[b]Entry #2: Untitled #2[/b] [QUOTE]She winked at him from her perch atop the cliff, swinging her legs casually as if she was merely sitting in a classroom waiting impatiently for the freedom bell to ring. She was so reckless sometimes it scared him. He was more leveled. He would be the one to say ‘You know, Suzie, sometimes it’s better to actually think before you act. You know. Occasionally’ and she would be the one to reply ‘Alright Devin, I’ll start tomorrow then’. Suzie just never understood. She never knew how easily mistakes played into life, and how unexpected things were. Devin knew. Devin knew better than most. “So you’re really going to do it then?” he asked, peering over the dusty, orange ground to gaze into the pool of teal sitting tranquilly below. “You’re gonna jump?” “Mhm. It’s how I live, Dev.” She had her cheerful, easy grin on her face as she peered at him through her squinted, illuminated hazel eyes. “You live by jumping off of cliffs? A tad counter-productive, don’t you think?” “There’s a cord, idiot. It’s why I’m not plunging to my death, you know.” “Ah.” There was a pause while Devin scrutinized the jagged rocks lining the cliff’s drop. He then stared at the sheer distance between them and the end below. “And if the cord breaks?” “Shut up, Devin.” And then she did it. She smiled, and she got up and leaped off the cliff. There was a blur as her asphalt colored cord followed her eagerly, and he could only hear the sounds of her body spearing through the air as she sped towards the ground. And then, there it was: the zing of the cord stretching, and retreating as she bounced back nearly ten feet. “It’s life then,” he agreed.[/QUOTE] |
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| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:52 PM Post #4 |
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[b]Entry #3: My Mother's a Stranger[/b] [QUOTE]In the sixteen years of my life, I only know six things about my mother: her name, her appearance, her favorite song, her favorite book, and that, once, she had loved my father. And the last and most important thing I know about my mother: she’s a mystery. I never see my mother. Dad used to say she died when I was two, and I used to believe him though he refused to take to her grave. Said it’d be too painful for us. I used to hold her pictures and look at it until I cried, wishing she were alive and still with me. As I grew older, suspicions grew with me, and I played detective behind my father’s back. That’s how I knew he lied. She’s alive. And now I wish I hadn’t questioned my father. There had never been any letters. No calls. No birthday gifts. Dad swore he didn’t lie to me other than about her death, and my grandparents echoed his reply. She left for rehab and never came back. Nobody knew where she went or why. She probably didn’t love me. Not enough to stay, anyway. But I want to know. I need to know. I might get hurt, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I can’t go on wondering. I won’t. I want my mother, and I hope, with all my heart, I hope she wants me.[/QUOTE] |
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| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:52 PM Post #5 |
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[b]Entry #4: The Box[/b] [QUOTE]The box sat nicely on the table. It was pink with light swirls all over it, tied up in a pretty pink bow. It was alluring, it begged to be opened and its contents revealed. She saw it on the table and stared at it for a moment. She smiled as her hand reached out to pick it up, but she stopped herself and giggled. Was it for her? It had to be, right? She looked around and no-one else was in sight. She moved closer, examining the box, but not touching it. What could be inside? Her heart leapt in her chest. It is small enough for a ring or some other kind of jewellery. But could it be? She wanted to take a peek; she wanted to see inside the box. Again, she examined it from a slight distance, enough to see it but not touch. There was no name on it or a card to identify who its recipient was. But surely it was for her, who else would leave something behind for her to find? She finally reached out her hand and felt the silky ribbon. It felt like satin in her hand, so soft and delicate. She had to know…She tugged lightly on the ribbon…But before she could see, the box was swooped up. Looking up in surprise, she saw the twinkling eyes she had grown to love. He grinned at her, tossed the box up in the air before catching at again, and then pocketed it. “Not yet,” He whispered and held out his hand to her. She took his hand with hers and smiled, her mind though, was still wondering what was inside the box.[/QUOTE] |
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| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:53 PM Post #6 |
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[b]Entry #5: My Obsession[/b] [QUOTE]I can hate with a passion. I can love with great desire. There is a between place where common ground can be found, but at the end of the day, I generally choose to love and not hate and have no middle ground. So when did this change? Why do I now find myself wrapped up in this world of acceptance? When did the lines start crossing and hate became love and love became like and like became an obsession? It started off so simple, so precious and so wondrous. It was a time where one was surprised with an identity. That identity spawned into something far greater than expected and thus the obsession formed. As a child and growing into a teen and then even to a young adult, I swore blind that this would never happen, I swore that I’d rather die than give in. I proved myself very wrong! I proved that my opinion could change, that I could learn to love what I hate the most in the world. But what I never expected was the way it came about. It doesn’t matter now, what it is. It can be anything at all, and my obsession grows. How does this expand so much? How can this strange phenomenon continue to grow and change, not only me, but the world? Ribbons, clothes, tools, laptops, hand held games, pens and other items that life provides. The one way we recognise a world charity, a way to define the female race. For me, it started with a child. My first baby girl. I now have three; I’m now more girly than ever before in my life. I now understand what it means to love this, to adore and worship it. I am, of course, talking about, the colour pink.[/QUOTE] |
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| Eyriana | May 31 2009, 06:54 PM Post #7 |
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[b]Entry #6: Life[/b] [QUOTE]Staring out of a window, she watches as the wind blows the trees. As the winds pick up in ferocity, she feels a draft coming in her window, it shakes and rattles in its frame and howls its eerie song. The trees look like they might fly away as the wind sweeps past, taking along other bits of debris with it. She watches with great interest, connecting the wind to her life. How quickly it all seems to have gone. She smiles as she can still remember herself as a child, twirling around in the winds and chasing leaves as they flew by. Her teen years felt like yesterday. One day she was sitting with her friends at the movies and gossiping about boys, the next she finds her special someone and the next chapter in her life begins. Although she married her prince, she was far from living a fairytale. Relationships and families are hard work and she makes the necessary sacrifices in life to ensure her family’s safety and survival. Her dreams of travelling are postponed as she welcomes her first child into the world; renovations to their home are forgotten as the second comes along. Three more children and a new home sees her future quite busy, but she welcomes it. Now as she watches her grandchildren twirl around and play in the wind, she realises her contentment. Her sacrifices and her hard work have paid off. Even though she buried her husband only a year ago, under the very trees she now watches, she has no regrets. She knows he is watching over them and he died a happy man. She will follow him soon and join him once again, but for now, she continues to watch and enjoy her life.[/QUOTE] |
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