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shrieks-blog · 5 years ago

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I liked this so much, I just had to reblog.

The White Dress

There's something about a white dress that is so beautiful.

The way the lace floats on a breeze. How the slip tangles about your legs as you run. The contrast of a field of bold colored wild flowers that make up the backdrop to another blissfult summer afternoon.

The light airiness of the soft, worn cotton as it dances along your skin.

The innocence and purity that comes to mind when gazing upon the delicate threading.

There's something about a white dress that is so tragic.

The dirt that stains the hem when playful feet come to a rest. The grass that colors the back as you lie hidden in the fields, a gasping breath revealing where you are.

The tears in the lace as it tangles in the brambles, gripping you tight in its clawed until you rip loose.

The skit billowing as you turn around, caught in a gust of wind.

The splash of red that blossoms across your chest.

The hem tattered and shredded as you tumble down the hill.

The translucency as the water from the pond seeps into the fabric as you come to an abrupt stop, water lapping against your sides.

The tangled brown curls, cakes with mud and grass and dark against pallid skin.

Dulling eyes, staring into the pond and past your outstretched hand.

A puddle of red turning the ripples a watery pink.

Dirt stained ankles.

Broken skin and bloody heels.

A shadow that crawls across your prone figure, kneeling down beside you.

A tender caress, the hair is moved out of your face.

Is that a rattled breath shaking out of you broken lungs, or just the water shifting the weight of your body?

Air whisk beneath you, the world shifts as you are lifted.

This dress is so heavy, the weight becoming unbareable.

A slow, silent trek through the woods, a jagged cliff.

The world stretches onwards, at the edge of your reaching fingers.

And then flight, soaring between one moment and the next.

And then falling, body breaking against cruel, jagged rocks.

The water pulls you into arms of numbing cold.

Your fingers stretch out one last time, life slowly fading from your eyes.

Water fills every orifice.

The shadow, an image imprinted on your eyes, creeps back into the woods.

There's something about a white dress that is so beautiful.

The tattered lace floating around your bloated body. The bubbles as the dance from the soft fabric. The contrast of the dark watery backdrop.

The luminescence of the white against the bottom of the pond.

And the rose that blossoms from the hole in your chest.

Sleep Soundly,

The Narrator

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shrieks-blog · 5 years ago

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Hangover between 5:00 and 7:00 AM

Every day has that rather awkward time of morning which stands between 5:00 and 7:00 AM, when the city is just starting to wake up. You may just wake up because you heard a sound or you had a bad dream. In that case you may decide to go back to sleep as fast as you can or stay awake and watch the city around you come to life. If you can make that choice, that is. Some people instead are waking up to go to work, as they may do every day, as they may have been doing for years. You may wake up to head to school or you may wake up because that particular day you need to be up at that particular time. In the first case you can make that decision, in other cases you can’t, or technically you can but it’s best not to. Sometimes though, you find yourself awake between 5:00 and 7:00 AM because you made a particularly bad decision before hand, much like our protagonist here had, finding herself to be well-awake on that particular Sunday morning at 6:34 AM, standing in front of an almost deserted bus stop. But you see, her error lies in the bad decision she had made the previous evening, when she decided to head over to a party at 2:00 AM, planning on sleeping at some point during the long night. Although when you’re surrounded by your friends, by music and once you’ve ingested a fairly large amount of alcohol, things rarely tend to go as planned. She realized this as she lighted another cigarette and picking the last bit of mascara she had applied to her lashes about five hours before hand. The bus stop, as I previously mentioned, was almost deserted. There was a young man sitting on the sidewalk, bent over his phone, his curly blond hair falling over his face. Our protagonist is a rather curious girl who takes much interest in strangers, observing them carefully, without minding much of her own business. She peeked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his phone. He was playing a game, though she couldn’t quite tell what game. As she let out a puff of smoke she took a step towards him.

“Sorry, are you waiting fo-“

“The 6:36 bus, yes.”

He answered abruptly, interrupting her without even bothering to look up from his phone.

She stayed quiet, carefully studying him. She didn’t answer, just nodded slightly, knowing perfectly well he wouldn’t see her anyways.

‘What a rude young man.’ She though to herself, although the ‘young man’ as she called him, was visibly a couple of years older than her. She stepped away and pulled the cigarette close to her lips again as her eyes fluttered shut. She opened them again to study her surrounding. Although she was sober, her eyes still moved quite lazily and her head still felt light, as it might if you haven’t slept the alcohol away and especially if you’ve used said alcohol to keep yourself awake several times throughout the evening.

A sound of wheels grew closer as the bus neared the bus stop. She flicked the cigarette onto the street, scolding herself for it just a few seconds later.

“Is that the bus?”

She turned to look at the young man who still hadn’t raised his head from his phone, however making it clear he was talking to her.

“Yes.” She muttered bitterly at the rather bad-mannered boy.

The bus stopped in front of her and to her surprise the young man was already on his feet and stepping onto the bus before her. She climbed in right after him and smiled at the driver, a chubby man in his fifties who didn’t seem too happy to be awake that early.

“Morning!”

She chirped as she flung a messy strand of hair out of her worn out, tired face. The driver smiled, but it was a smile of awareness. She almost had the impression that he was laughing at her, if not at her then with her, or better yet at the memories she brought back to him of his earlier years when he often found himself lost between 5:00 and 7:00 AM with alcohol still well active in his system.

She walked towards the center of the bus. She could feel strangers’ eyes on her, even if just a few of them. They were studying her tired face and eye bags, her smeared make up and messy hair. Some were a bit unsettled by her unmatched flip-flops, one of them her own and the other red one she had acquired at some point during the blurred evening. They had probably also noticed that she was missing one loopy earring and that her baggy sweatpants that she had brought behind to change into, didn’t quite match her elegant top which itself wasn’t quite exceptionally fitting for that time of day. But she didn’t mind. She slipped her sunglasses on to hide the worn out look in her eyes and smiled at each and every person on the bus.

As soon as the doors slipped open, she hopped off the bus and made her way across the street and into the park. On the other side of the park, in approximately seven minutes, at 6:47 if one does the math, she would soon be catching her next bus but she had time. She had all the time in the world.

She made her way through the park which would look much more lively later on, around 4:00 PM, around the usual time she met there with her friends. At 6:42 AM instead it was beautiful but still sleepy. A homeless man woke up as soon as he heard her loud flip-flops flopping their way past his sleeping place. He perched himself up on his elbow, still lying in his sleeping bag, and glanced and the girl walking by. She caught his stare and returned it silently for a couple of seconds before catching him off guard with a bright smile.

“Morning!”

She chirped once again. The homeless man’s eyes gaped open wild for a few seconds before he hesitantly, reluctantly returned her unexpected smile. He didn’t get that kind of good morning very often.

She noticed his indecisiveness of course and for half a second she feared she had scared him, but she came to the conclusion that that was ridiculous. So she kept walking through the cool and fresh park, just around the corner from the bus stop.

The second bus stop was a bit more populated. You see there were two people this time, and a few more cars rushing by, most likely driving their owners to work. It was 6:45 AM.

The two men were quite distant from each other. One was eyeing her in a rather suspicious manner. For an outsider it would be very hard to tell if he was trying to make her uncomfortable or rather if she was making him very uncomfortable. But she didn’t mind him.

She walked closer and climbed onto a small brick wall, setting her bag in her lap, unsure whether she should light another cigarette or not.

Before she could decide, though, she saw the second man, a man probably in his early sixties, squinting at the bus schedule. She watched him for a while as he kept glancing at the watch on his wrist and back at the bus schedule.

“That’s not always right.” He glanced up at her and frowned slightly but she just smiled again and started swinging her legs back and forth.

“Excuse me young lady?”

“I’d advise you to look online, this bus schedule has been here for years.”

He grimaced and slipped his eyeglasses on to take a more thorough look at the strange girl sitting on the small brick wall. After doing so, he slipped them off again and scowled.

“I don’t have those things. I use a normal telephone.”

He turned away from her and looked at a bus heading towards them yet still at a fair distance.

She followed his gaze without a word and leaned out a bit to look at the bus. The man squinted and pointed at it.

“Is that it?”

Being significantly younger, her eyesight would have also been significantly better than his and it was, so she recognized the bus immediately. She hopped off the small brick wall and neared the edge of the sidewalk and then glanced at her phone screen. Right on time. It was 6:47.

“Yes sir, that’s the bus.”

The bus came closer and then to a halt in front of her. She hopped on and the door shut behind her. The man hadn’t followed behind her. Maybe he thought she was strange or maybe that wasn’t the bus he meant to take. There could have been a number of reasons. But she didn’t mind. She smiled at the second bus driver and made her way towards the center of the bus. There were only three people on this bus. A woman in her forties, a man in his thirties and a second man sitting with the first one who may have been in his fifties. Everyone on the bus eyed her. Not in any particular way or for any particular reason, they just eyed, they eyed as you and I may eye anyone we walk past on the street, wondering where they’re coming from and where they’re going. And once again, she smiled at each and every one of them, muttering a “morning!” or “good day!” between smiles.

People, she thought, get used to their routines. They go to the same places and do the same things and see the same people, even if they’re strangers they see every day because they take the same bus.

She hopped off the bus and began calmly and slowly making her way down the road.

They seem scared often, when they see something new or when something unexpected happens like a smile or a person they don’t know waves at them. They panic. “What now? What do I do? This isn’t written anywhere, this isn’t supposed to happen.” So they give off a cold vibe. They don’t know how to react.

She stopped in front of a light, golden-ish coloured wooden door and turned a pair of keys inside the keyhole.

She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, flinging her flip-flops off her feet and making a note to return the red flip-flop to it’s original owner.

But at some point, even if it only crosses your mind if minds for one third of a second and even if you don’t realize it has crosses your mind of minds for one third of a second, at some point you’ll feel warm inside when you recall that smile you received early in the morning before your day could properly start. You’ll smile to yourself when you remember that stranger wishing you a good day between 5:00 and 7:00 AM. You’ll definitely have a better day, even unnoticeably better, because maybe the strange smiling young girl or the jolly and kind old man or the friendly trash guy rubbed off on you a little with their small gestures. And you might never see them again or you might forget them forever but they were there for you for just half a second, early in the morning before even the sun was there for you.

And as she thoughts this, around approximately 7:00 AM, her eyes fluttered shut as she curled up in her bed and finally got her well-deserved sleep.

#weirdo #short stories #adventure #writer #free write #literature #girl #funny #strange #weird #hangover #drunk #morning #story #sweet #smile #people #friends #city #party

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