|Mi Fai Ridere
Author: SofieHere PM
"Il nostro amore non è mai stato pensato per essere. . ." - AlmahRated: Fiction K+ - English - Fantasy/Romance - Words: 1,665 - Published: 11-12-12 - id: 3073782
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I raced to our crooked, mildly bent mailbox, soon after feeling the definite despair of void from someone. Yes. I was trying to get closure between myself and Damien, but who told him that He had the right to willingly avoid me! I wasn't happy, I could assure that. But, it felt like an empty piece of Nothing, was Actually something. Slumping down against the wretched post, I sighed solemnly to my own being. Nothing felt right when I didn't here the possessive literature he continued to write to me, week after week, always detailing the every last point he had to make about pretty much anything.
Yes, I thought I'd been over him. I had thought that he would be some creepy pen-pal that I'd continue to lose interest in after the first week or so. But, a spark fittingly perfected our entire conversations. Whether it be our favorite novels to what we like snacking out about during the middle of the night when no one's there to see you pig out. Though, my favorite topic was so profound to being to evolved around ourselves. In simple terms, just to randomly talk about each other, like a simple game of twenty questions. Damien was like a connoisseur, that continued to bask at whatever I did, and made it seem positive.
I guess he lost interest in me after the entire six month period we'd ever start writing to each other. Slowly After week by week, his messages to me became smaller and quit brief, while sticking to the point. I mean, that's the only reason why I'm sulking in the bitter coldness, rendering away at whatever heat I had left. The chilling temperatures of Mississippi blew away at my entire face, causing me to relapse and take charge to my house's door. And, while getting to wipe some frozen grass buds on my butt, I headed toward the door, thinking about how plain the State was, even just how much I hated it.
Chipping away at the door with my key I thought, was practically the hardest part. Jiggling the knob twice, and thrice, it reluctantly snapped open, allowing the warm current of heat to press against my bare cheeks. The sensation practically urged me inside, while my other half did the work of pushing the door inward. I thanked God for the invention of Space Warmers. Nearing toward the escalating stair-steps, while jostling off my plain, mud-crusted shoes, I walked into the Dining Room/Kitchen, which my dad claims,"Brings in close fung shui properties." I swear I could laugh at his ancient Mojo all day long, if I had the chance.
Slipping myself down in a chair, I immediately caught the whiff of something that Had to be savory. Chicken Wings. I couldn't believe my over-grown father was actually able to spend enough time away from his furnishing decor classes to make home-made wings; naked, of course. Helping myself to a good amount of wings, I gnawed at the chicken, finally feeling full for once. Belching out, while giggling after words, I let my sorrows tumble down to lost memories in the blink of an eye. Though, his presence still lingered around myself like a camera just about to take a snap-shot.
Blankets? Check. Natalia? Check. Pillows? Check. Now I'd be able to sleep off another night in the week days. Woozy and just about ready to fall into my peaceful-slumber, I folded a mesh of blankets over and under my body just to keep calm that nothing would touch my legs. Like, who hasn't been afraid of having something touch your body at night? That Always gave me the frightful keepers, because of an honest mistake I'd made 4 years back.
I was a little girl at the time, and so was my imaginary friend, Hazel. I used to call him that, just because of the warm-inviting hazel he stored in his eyes. My parents had obviously been ignorant to my friend, but I knew they'd 'play' along when I ever spoke of him. To cut a story short, I used to let Hazel sleep in my bed, but one night, he said he couldn't come back, not once, not ever. I urged him to stay, continuing to bribe him with books and toys, but he always replied with a "No". I had a short outburst after that, and forcefully tried to keep him away from my closet; which had been his secretive location door, where he'd go back to whatever world he went to. Though, something caved over him, a ghoulish presence looking sort of like bloody gremlins, and he snarled at me so ferociously, that I let go of him and started screaming out of terror. And, with that he fled the scene, never to return.
I hoped to see him again. I hoped that all he was saying was a lie. I hoped that we could start over again. But, that never happened. Here I was, cowering under a mesh of blankets, which nothing to look forward to look forward to, but in inexplicit morning and bad, chilly afternoon. Reluctantly, I closed my eyes, deciding I needed at least 6 hours of sleep before I'd gone to school; the lights flicking into a light haze, and slowly submissive into darkness. I had fallen asleep.
I awoke, still tired, but manageable to get up at take a luke-warm shower. After all the necessities had been taken care of, as far and hygiene and clothing go, I tossed my body down the stair-steps trying to achieve that morning rush feeling, but sadly just getting a weak bruise. My dad always asleep at this time, could probably play a thousand different nasal tones and form one orchestra with his one nose. But, it really did annoy me at the time, since it'd been 6 a.m.
Making the usual, a cup of steaming coffee and an Onion bagel, I sat quietly, letting my mouth do all it was able to do, which was bite and swallow. Finishing up my petty breakfast, I slipped on my plush-like brown boots, and headed outside, being cautious of slippery sidewalks and walkways. I knew the bus would be late, like always, but something else caught my eye. A figure. Slender, not too well built, but. . Ordinary.
The figure had looked to be a male, but I hadn't strain my strength on this one person. He looked some-what foreign, having a sheer-cut blonde head. I had minded my own business, not wanting to relegate toward the new student, hut I obviously got a glimpse of his eyes. They lit me up, entirely, seeing that the were a light yet dark ash mauve color. It was like a contradiction in its self! I smiled slightly at the foreigner, seeing to it that he'd made my day, after all.
Boarding the bus, I sat down for the rest of the thirty minute drive we had left, but used it to my advantage and caught up another half an hour of sleep. I felt very cautious to actually fall asleep, seemingly because I felt like a pair if eyes was continually looking over at myself. Sitting myself back up for the notorious speed-bump, I cocked my head to the side, noticing the the foreigner had been next to my seat. I wasn't completely self-aware and scared, but it did creep me out just a bit. Getting up, the guy also stood up, curving his arm around me, over to my seat to block off the potential pushers trying to get off the bus.
Swooping his other hand down in a polite response, he spoke,"You may pass." His lips curved and folded into a clean smile while doing so, but I ignored his gentlemen like response, and nodded noble-like to him.
"You May Pass"? Is he a Guardian like in those fan-fiction stories? I was too quiet and self-preserved, not wanting to be in anyone else's business other than my own. Being in an awkward disposition, I headed straight toward homeroom, for my least favorite class of the day, Biology II. I had stridden throughout the hall, maintaining my cool, but having to turn around for the utter annoyance of loud bubble-pops. Lately, I think I've been seeing to much of Mr. Foreign, and there he was, once again.
"Hello there, Princess", he chimed in with a small smile. It really annoyed me how perky he was at 7 o'clock in the morning, and that he'd continue to call me Princess. Who has the animosity to do that in the morning? Of course, this person did.
"Okay, I don't know who you are. And, I'd like you to Please, stop following me okay? You don't even know my name, let alone you continuing to call me Princess for no reason! Just. . Please stop.", I commanded of him, with a weary look on my face. He seemed surprised, and nodded with a simple bow before me, and headed off into the storm of traveling students. Sighing, I felt relieved.
Heading into the class, I frowned seeing the happy-go-lucky face of his, once again, just as he started waving to me. I suggested the gesture as, "Saved you a seat, Princess. Come here." If I had the chance, I would ignore him in a heart-beat, but sadly, all the seats were taken. Wallowing in doubt, I wavered over. Sitting beside him, I laid my head on the desk.
"Okay, class, let's all Wake Up!", Mr. Salvatore exhaled, slamming a stack of papers with a hearty laugh. I immediately stuck my head up in response to the slam. "Today, someone new will be joining us, and I'm glad to say that he has one of our highest grades in class!", he boasted, clapping his hands. In response, us other plain students clapped in return.
Standing up the foreign student rose from his chair, and waved at everyone with a charming posture, and self-absorbed personality that made our class's girls so excited for him. There couldn't be a more perfect time to want to hide in a hole, than this. Turning my head to the side, I really hadn't paid attention until I'd heard his name. His wolfish grin turned to my face, as he bowed his head, once again repeating his name.
"Hi, class, I'm Claude. It's nice to be joining you all, today."
It was him. It had to be him. The Claude that Damian continued to write about mindlessly because of his terrible jokes he'd always have played on himself. The Claude that practically stuck through with Damian, like a worthy right-hand man. The Claude that could help me understand why Damian didn't write to me anymore.
The Claude that knew where He was.