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Hello morning.
Every now and again the colour of the carpet in my living room turns from blue to bright yellow. I remember it used to happen a lot, not as much as it does now. It's the light coming in from the windows, it does it when I get up early sometimes.
My cat used to curl up in the yellow rectangles on the floor. She's dead now though, mum said she had cancer and she had to be put down.
I used to lie next to the cat and stare up into the light. I just liked watching the dust as it floated in and out of the stream, vanishing as it left.
My grampa told me once that when people get old and start dying, everything around them starts getting dusty, and that's because all the dust keeps falling off them and settling on all their books and cupboards.
I don't know why I got up so early. I decided to go out and sit on the wall on the other side of the street and wait until school started.
Two cars went by. One was dark blue and the other was dark red. They were both heading down towards the library.
I eventually got up and went to school. People were talking and joking, I don't like to look at them too much.
In my first lesson I sat on one of the old desks, the ones that open and have ink wells. I wrote on the desk, inbetween the love letters and the drawings of p*****s.
When all we see is all the same
We will turn to dust and flame
I don't know why people draw p*****s. It's always boys, girls only fall in love with question marks.
"What's wrong?" She asks me. Sometimes I forget her name, sometimes it changes.
"I don't know." I mumble. I don't like to talk too loud. Everybody says I talk to myself. She hears me anyway, she understands me when I speak.
People say something and start laughing. I don't know if they're laughing at me, so I just keep quiet.
I don't know when this all began. Nobody seems to know what I mean so I don't question it anymore. I don't think I'm very intelligent though, I don't understand how to do most of maths so I don't listen.
Everybody gets out to leave so I follow them. They always know where to go so I don't need to check.
She's there too. I'm glad she is really.
We have art now. I wish I could draw. I think I'm different to most people. They say that different people can be very good at art because they can draw and see things other people can't. I can't draw though. She draws really well and sometimes she draws things for me.
Some boy says something about me drawing my imaginary friend and the girls laugh at him and some of the boys don't. I want to draw the light coming in from my window but I don't know how to draw it. I look around and there's light coming in from the windows, just like my house. The air seems dustier in the light, I look at all the boys and girls and I realise they're dying.
I try dotting the paper trying to make it like dust in the light. The problem with dust is it keeps moving, so I can't draw it. She asks me what I'm trying to draw and I tell her dust in the light. She tells me that's really sweet and she smiles. I think her name's Eleanor.
The teacher comes over and asks me what I'm doing. I look to Eleanor and she doesn't say anything, just nods at me. I say I'm trying to draw dust in the light but the teacher doesn't know what I mean, so I look over to the window so I can show the teacher but the light isn't yellow anymore so I can't explain. She says it's ok.
The teacher goes away, so Eleanor comes over and draws a cat face on my paper. I don't know why people don't see her. She makes the cat stick it's tongue out and I find it funny. Her hands are funny and her skin is different. I ask her why her hands are strange and she tells me she burnt them. I say I'm sorry. She asks me why, and I don't know why. I think she told me this before.
In English I find another old desk that I can scratch words into. It's at the back, and as people are reading out from the book I write something.
In the stream of light we find no pain
That deems the sight of dust and flame
The teacher calls out my name for me to read, and I panic and open the book. Eleanor shows me her page and I try and find it. The teacher asks everyone to be quiet and I start to read.
I hate reading aloud. I stutter and nobody knows what I'm saying. I only read half the page before the teacher picks someone else to read. I never have to read long.
In lunch we just sit in the corner. She sits, eating cheese sandwiches and ready salted crisps and reads a book. She reads a lot of books, today she's reading a new book by someone she reads a lot of. She tells me I should read but I find it hard. I really like being with her. I don't really talk to her that much but she makes me feel happy.
There never seems to be any dust outside. I think there's too much space to fill.
Eleanor has a nice face. She has long black hair and she wears big black framed glasses which I think are funny. Her arms are burnt and her skin is red and white in places. I tell her that there's part of her arm that looks like Austria. She blinks and asks me where, so I point to the white bit on her left arm that looks like it. She agrees with me.
Someone throws something at my head and it hurts. I think it was a pear and I feel like crying so I pick up my lunch box and throw it at them, but it misses and it breaks on the floor and people laugh so I cry. Eleanor tells them to go away but nobody listens because nobody can hear her. I tell them to go away and they call me crazy. They kick my lunch box for a while and I don't want them to hit me so I let them. When they go I try and get all the pieces and I put them in my bag. She asks me if I'm ok and I tell her I'm upset.
I follow Eleanor and we're in science. We just sit at the back and she talks to me about places in the world. I listen to her and draw on the desk.
When at last can we proclaim
That we are free from dust and flame
The classroom is really high so the big windows let in lots of light and we can see dust in the room again. The teacher tells us to set up an experiment and Eleanor talks to me and tells me that she's scared of flame so asks me to light the Bunsen Burner so I say ok.
Someone tells me not to set myself on fire and I think some girl punches the boy that said it but not hard. Eleanor doesn't like fire so I keep it far away from her and do what she tells me to do.
When I've done everything I draw the same table she drew and write everything down. Underneath it I write something else.
When we learn to trust in blame,
We will turn to dust and flame
Eleanor reads it and asks me what it means. I say I don't know but it sounds nice.
I walk to the gates with her and she looks at me so I look at the floor. She tells me it's ok to look so I do and I smile at her glasses and her hair. She asks me why I smile so I tell her I like her. She smiles and I look at her lips and then I feel guilty so I look away.
I ask her if we can come with me but she says she has to go home because her dad will get angry. I think her dad is scary. She told me once that she's more alive when she's outside. Maybe that's why you don't see any dust.
She smiles at me and she says goodbye. Her eyes are shiny behind her glasses and I don't know how to feel. She walks away down towards the library and I turn to go the other way.
Every now and again the colour of the carpet in my living room turns from blue to bright yellow. I remember it used to happen a lot, not as much as it does now. It's the light coming in from the windows, it does it when I get up early sometimes.
My cat used to curl up in the yellow rectangles on the floor. She's dead now though, mum said she had cancer and she had to be put down.
I used to lie next to the cat and stare up into the light. I just liked watching the dust as it floated in and out of the stream, vanishing as it left.
My grampa told me once that when people get old and start dying, everything around them starts getting dusty, and that's because all the dust keeps falling off them and settling on all their books and cupboards.
I don't know why I got up so early. I decided to go out and sit on the wall on the other side of the street and wait until school started.
Two cars went by. One was dark blue and the other was dark red. They were both heading down towards the library.
I eventually got up and went to school. People were talking and joking, I don't like to look at them too much.
In my first lesson I sat on one of the old desks, the ones that open and have ink wells. I wrote on the desk, inbetween the love letters and the drawings of p*****s.
When all we see is all the same
We will turn to dust and flame
I don't know why people draw p*****s. It's always boys, girls only fall in love with question marks.
"What's wrong?" She asks me. Sometimes I forget her name, sometimes it changes.
"I don't know." I mumble. I don't like to talk too loud. Everybody says I talk to myself. She hears me anyway, she understands me when I speak.
People say something and start laughing. I don't know if they're laughing at me, so I just keep quiet.
I don't know when this all began. Nobody seems to know what I mean so I don't question it anymore. I don't think I'm very intelligent though, I don't understand how to do most of maths so I don't listen.
Everybody gets out to leave so I follow them. They always know where to go so I don't need to check.
She's there too. I'm glad she is really.
We have art now. I wish I could draw. I think I'm different to most people. They say that different people can be very good at art because they can draw and see things other people can't. I can't draw though. She draws really well and sometimes she draws things for me.
Some boy says something about me drawing my imaginary friend and the girls laugh at him and some of the boys don't. I want to draw the light coming in from my window but I don't know how to draw it. I look around and there's light coming in from the windows, just like my house. The air seems dustier in the light, I look at all the boys and girls and I realise they're dying.
I try dotting the paper trying to make it like dust in the light. The problem with dust is it keeps moving, so I can't draw it. She asks me what I'm trying to draw and I tell her dust in the light. She tells me that's really sweet and she smiles. I think her name's Eleanor.
The teacher comes over and asks me what I'm doing. I look to Eleanor and she doesn't say anything, just nods at me. I say I'm trying to draw dust in the light but the teacher doesn't know what I mean, so I look over to the window so I can show the teacher but the light isn't yellow anymore so I can't explain. She says it's ok.
The teacher goes away, so Eleanor comes over and draws a cat face on my paper. I don't know why people don't see her. She makes the cat stick it's tongue out and I find it funny. Her hands are funny and her skin is different. I ask her why her hands are strange and she tells me she burnt them. I say I'm sorry. She asks me why, and I don't know why. I think she told me this before.
In English I find another old desk that I can scratch words into. It's at the back, and as people are reading out from the book I write something.
In the stream of light we find no pain
That deems the sight of dust and flame
The teacher calls out my name for me to read, and I panic and open the book. Eleanor shows me her page and I try and find it. The teacher asks everyone to be quiet and I start to read.
I hate reading aloud. I stutter and nobody knows what I'm saying. I only read half the page before the teacher picks someone else to read. I never have to read long.
In lunch we just sit in the corner. She sits, eating cheese sandwiches and ready salted crisps and reads a book. She reads a lot of books, today she's reading a new book by someone she reads a lot of. She tells me I should read but I find it hard. I really like being with her. I don't really talk to her that much but she makes me feel happy.
There never seems to be any dust outside. I think there's too much space to fill.
Eleanor has a nice face. She has long black hair and she wears big black framed glasses which I think are funny. Her arms are burnt and her skin is red and white in places. I tell her that there's part of her arm that looks like Austria. She blinks and asks me where, so I point to the white bit on her left arm that looks like it. She agrees with me.
Someone throws something at my head and it hurts. I think it was a pear and I feel like crying so I pick up my lunch box and throw it at them, but it misses and it breaks on the floor and people laugh so I cry. Eleanor tells them to go away but nobody listens because nobody can hear her. I tell them to go away and they call me crazy. They kick my lunch box for a while and I don't want them to hit me so I let them. When they go I try and get all the pieces and I put them in my bag. She asks me if I'm ok and I tell her I'm upset.
I follow Eleanor and we're in science. We just sit at the back and she talks to me about places in the world. I listen to her and draw on the desk.
When at last can we proclaim
That we are free from dust and flame
The classroom is really high so the big windows let in lots of light and we can see dust in the room again. The teacher tells us to set up an experiment and Eleanor talks to me and tells me that she's scared of flame so asks me to light the Bunsen Burner so I say ok.
Someone tells me not to set myself on fire and I think some girl punches the boy that said it but not hard. Eleanor doesn't like fire so I keep it far away from her and do what she tells me to do.
When I've done everything I draw the same table she drew and write everything down. Underneath it I write something else.
When we learn to trust in blame,
We will turn to dust and flame
Eleanor reads it and asks me what it means. I say I don't know but it sounds nice.
I walk to the gates with her and she looks at me so I look at the floor. She tells me it's ok to look so I do and I smile at her glasses and her hair. She asks me why I smile so I tell her I like her. She smiles and I look at her lips and then I feel guilty so I look away.
I ask her if we can come with me but she says she has to go home because her dad will get angry. I think her dad is scary. She told me once that she's more alive when she's outside. Maybe that's why you don't see any dust.
She smiles at me and she says goodbye. Her eyes are shiny behind her glasses and I don't know how to feel. She walks away down towards the library and I turn to go the other way.
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oh, i had already read most of 'em, but just not had enough time to comment on all of them.
No offense, but I can't help but think that it'd take you more than 2 minutes to read this, comment on it, then read mine and comment on it straight after...
Very good bit of literature there 'Thraves, well done!
Quite poignant. The tale itself saddened me and then there is the shocking aspect of his imaginary friend being disfigured in some kind of fire as opposed to the 'perfect' image usually imagined.
Thanks.
Thanks.
The writing style is spot on, in my opinion.
Well I enjoyed it, I felt for the main character.
I liked the style in which it was written, I think that you captured it well, and it was consistent throughout.
I liked the style in which it was written, I think that you captured it well, and it was consistent throughout.
Nice
The "pwetty buttons" approach worked well I thought.
Grix Thraves wrote:
> the style changes with
> his different emotions from what I can read, but I can't see how it
> changes half way through.
I think thats perhaps what I picked up on. The urgency in the story causing an absence of good grammar - in which case it's quite effective, actually.
> the style changes with
> his different emotions from what I can read, but I can't see how it
> changes half way through.
I think thats perhaps what I picked up on. The urgency in the story causing an absence of good grammar - in which case it's quite effective, actually.
Maybe the novelty wore off on me.
Anyway it seems others liked it so I'm not about to argue that the story should be re-worked, it just didnt appeal the way it was written, but hey, the pro's encounter the same thing. I do feel the need to ensure you that I liked the idea a lot and I'm not just nit-picking.
Anyway it seems others liked it so I'm not about to argue that the story should be re-worked, it just didnt appeal the way it was written, but hey, the pro's encounter the same thing. I do feel the need to ensure you that I liked the idea a lot and I'm not just nit-picking.
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