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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
July 17, 2008
never grow up. by *Pretty-As-A-Picture, held my attention from the very beginning and brought a youthful smile to my face as I remembered my own childhood "monsters."
Featured by LadyLincoln
Suggested by Mechant-Loup
Literature Text
I have a monster living underneath my bed.
He’s made up of burnt frog skin, white-red cobweb veined eyes and a collection of missing pebble teeth. Sometimes we play scrabble.
(The first time he was just a mechanical hum beneath the bowing wooden planks, he was just a faint smell of green and he was just a hot cloud of fog around my lips. It’s the wind, it’s the wind, I breathed. Then he breathed back, heavy and loud and monster-like; AM NOT.)
He always spoke in capitals; MONSTERS ARE MUCH TOO SCARY FOR LOWER-CASED LETTERS, he informed me one night under pink covers. I shined the flashlight into his eyes until they changed colour and he bared his teeth.
He sometimes visits my dreams. The grass turns sickly where he trudges and the woodland creatures whimper and scramble in his wake. WHERE’S MY HUG? He holds his warm monster limbs out, palms snatching me from my happy-ever-after and grins gap-toothily. I manage a chuckle as I buckle in his embrace.
He used to keep me awake with questions- he’d keep me awake with questions that don’t have answers. He’d ask me why, why, why. And my eyelids would cling to my cheekbones in desperate hope of sleep but my tongue would slide across the roof of my mouth with thoughts and sounds.
I held pillows over my eardrums and blared music- but the ringing of his guttural voice forced through all else and looped continually. You’re a bad song, I told him, and he kissed my temples with his sticky fingers.
He knew everything about Tom. He knew about the hurried, mismatched kiss and the tangle of our hands that day and the way he spoke my name and my toes tingled. He knew the way he made my heart and eyelashes flutter and the way he broke my heart. He heard between the sobbing, absorbing my tears with frog fingers, about the way he said goodbye.
I told him I loved him and the lime of his cheeks brightened and his eyes held mine tight and close. I LOVE YOU TOO. He grumbled in the prettiest way you’d expect of a monster. I held his webbed fingers and let my heart thump against them.
DON’T GROW UP, he’d beg from beneath me, on the hard cool floor amongst candy wrappers and comic books. Never, I’d reply, adopting his grin.
Never.
He’s made up of burnt frog skin, white-red cobweb veined eyes and a collection of missing pebble teeth. Sometimes we play scrabble.
(The first time he was just a mechanical hum beneath the bowing wooden planks, he was just a faint smell of green and he was just a hot cloud of fog around my lips. It’s the wind, it’s the wind, I breathed. Then he breathed back, heavy and loud and monster-like; AM NOT.)
He always spoke in capitals; MONSTERS ARE MUCH TOO SCARY FOR LOWER-CASED LETTERS, he informed me one night under pink covers. I shined the flashlight into his eyes until they changed colour and he bared his teeth.
He sometimes visits my dreams. The grass turns sickly where he trudges and the woodland creatures whimper and scramble in his wake. WHERE’S MY HUG? He holds his warm monster limbs out, palms snatching me from my happy-ever-after and grins gap-toothily. I manage a chuckle as I buckle in his embrace.
He used to keep me awake with questions- he’d keep me awake with questions that don’t have answers. He’d ask me why, why, why. And my eyelids would cling to my cheekbones in desperate hope of sleep but my tongue would slide across the roof of my mouth with thoughts and sounds.
I held pillows over my eardrums and blared music- but the ringing of his guttural voice forced through all else and looped continually. You’re a bad song, I told him, and he kissed my temples with his sticky fingers.
He knew everything about Tom. He knew about the hurried, mismatched kiss and the tangle of our hands that day and the way he spoke my name and my toes tingled. He knew the way he made my heart and eyelashes flutter and the way he broke my heart. He heard between the sobbing, absorbing my tears with frog fingers, about the way he said goodbye.
I told him I loved him and the lime of his cheeks brightened and his eyes held mine tight and close. I LOVE YOU TOO. He grumbled in the prettiest way you’d expect of a monster. I held his webbed fingers and let my heart thump against them.
DON’T GROW UP, he’d beg from beneath me, on the hard cool floor amongst candy wrappers and comic books. Never, I’d reply, adopting his grin.
Never.
Literature
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.
-
sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.
i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.
"why do you lie to everyone?" you
ask.
"why not?" i reply.
-
i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someon
Literature
Introductions
"Hi, I'm-"
"I know who you are."
"You do?"
"You're the guy who thinks he's invisible."
"I have a name-"
"It isn't important. Because you really don't think it's important."
"All right. Since we've started out this way, let me just tell you, I know you too."
"Yeah?"
"You're the girl who is broken."
"I am not broken."
"You're the girl whose eyes close every night and open the next morning, only to find you have never slept at all."
"I sleep well. Besides-"
"You're the girl who dreams of a happy ending even though she has seen seventeen...no, eighteen unhappy ones in her eighteen years."
"Happy endings are over rated. And you're-"
Literature
You've been on my mind...
Quite frankly, you're heavy. Get off.
Suggested Collections
getting my child on.
-DD? oh no, no, no
must have gotten the wrong piece
as IF this deserves a DD!
i apologise to everyone out there who actually deserves this DD instead of me.
but still, it is very nice and i really do appreciate it.
just feel a little guilty that's all.
-DD? oh no, no, no
must have gotten the wrong piece
as IF this deserves a DD!
i apologise to everyone out there who actually deserves this DD instead of me.
but still, it is very nice and i really do appreciate it.
just feel a little guilty that's all.
© 2008 - 2024 Pretty-As-A-Picture
Comments442
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just lovely...
p.s. what's a DD?
p.s. what's a DD?