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I can't find it. It's not in lost property.
No one has replied to my note on the white board.
No teacher understood me.
My friends? Well; they just looked at me as if I was stupid.
I haven't dropped it.
It didn't fall out of my bag or my blazer.
No one has stolen it.
I always kept it with me - maybe that was the problem.
It's driving me insane!
I feel like I want to curl up and cry.
I begin to run away.
Away from everyone, into the corner of the playing field.
And it is then, when I sit in the corner and cry,
when he walks to my side, knowing what I've lost.
He holds out something; his hand.
And I know I no longer have to keep looking for my heart.
There is no point.
Because he has given me his in its place.
I Can See You
What goes through your head, little bird?
What is it that makes you sad?
What is it about life that's bad?
What do you see, have seen, have heard?
You sit on your own on that cold stone wall,
No friends, no one with you,
And yet, what do you do?
Given up because no one has heard your call?
These people around you, they are blind,
They ignore you, don't see you,
Walk past you, avoid you,
Don't you wish you could leave all this behind?
Because these people around, they don't know,
They know nothing about you,
Your feelings inside you,
Their care for you melted away like the snow.
But not me, I'm not blind or unfair,
I see you sit and cry,
Watching people go by,
Wishing they would see you are there.
Little bird, little bird, I often ask myself,
If I offered my hand,
Would you take it, and
Let me lead you away to somewhere safe?
Heart beating, wanting to escape.
Elbows and knees weak.
Fighting a smile.
Taking occasional deep breaths.
Sometimes feeling a little queasy.
Is that good?
Staring into space.
Is this normal?
Seeing the world as a whole new place.
Feeling like I want to skip.
But I won't.
I need to contain this.
Or do I let it out?
All the wonders of my heart?
All the joys and gleeful screams?
Is this ... love?
Is that what this is called?
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More