Sooo yeahhhhh.. I also write shit. Quite randomly and without reason. So this is where you get to suffer with me posting random things I wrote that are never going to be continued! Fun, right?
This here's some ish I wrote on Write or Die whilst bored, like five minutes ago. Not edited. At All. Never going to be continued, but heres we go. Also I changed what genre I was writing a paragraph in. Also fun.
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Her bare feet hit the ground hard and sent a wave of pain up her legs, making her grimace each time and clench her fists tighter. The rain beat down hard and she knew this had all been a mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. Continuing to run was her only choice and so she did, gulping for air as she ran farther and farther away from the school. She had lost her shoes and was covered in bruises, but she couldn't be near those kids anymore. One more punch and she wouldn't have been able to handle it anymore. She refused to allow thoughts of what had been happening to her to arise to the front of her mind, feeling a stress headache coming on. That or she had really hurt her head this time, she didn't know. Just like she didn't know if it was the rain sticking her hair flat against her head or blood, there were many things she didn't know the answer too and it was likely she never would. Answers weren't what she wanted anyways, she just wanted to get away. She didn't want to go back to the school. She didn't want to be beat again. One of the solutions she had sought for before had been death, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't pull the trigger and end it and she hated that, so instead she thought of running away since her parents refused to move, which she took as evidence of how little they cared.
It wasn't until Quin was at the recently shut down thai place that she stopped, shivering from the cold the rips in her clothing let in. This wouldn't have happened if the others didn't think she was crazy, which she was starting to think she just might be. Sane people didn't see monsters around every corner or hear voices, she hardly blamed the students for hitting her. She would do it too if she was in their shoes, but she wasn't. She was in the shoes, or bare feet as it was, of a lonely girl running from bullies, uncaring parents, and herself. She knew that there wasn't any changing her lot in life and that she was stuck being the crazy, abused girl until she was old enough to drop out and go somewhere that might be safer, which she figured was anywhere if she could refrain from the whole responding to her own thoughts out loud. People tended to look down upon her when she did that and she couldn't blame them, she's think anyone that did even half the things she did was crazy if she wasn't the one doing it.
But she was, so that was that and she would continue to deal with it her own way, which was to pretend it didn't matter, take care of anything they did when she got home, and just go back the next day like nothing happened. It.. didn't make the abuse end, but she doubted anything would which is why she continued her usual pattern by walking into the store and looking for her things. She was oblivious to most sounds, assuming any bumps or creeks were rodents wandering. It wasn't until she had dug up her belongings, turning and heading towards the lady's room when she realized it wasn't a rodent. Her hand was already on the door handle when she could have sworn she felt something tug at her shirt and looked away to see it. Or her. What was the best word to describe a hallucination? She spent a few minutes simply looking at it with disinterest and thinking about a good term, finally deciding to just keep calling it Ronnie like it had asked
"Why are we here?" Ronnie spoke, breaking the silence. The little thing Quin had thought up looked like she was ten, with brown hair that reached her hair that contrasted Quin's own blonde pixie cut. Where Quin's clothing was torn, her "friend's" clothing was still in the slightly messy, played in look as it always in, though Ronnie's shoes were gone
"Where are your shoes? No need to mimic this, Ronnie." Quin ignored the question, shaking her head as she openly responded to her imagination and pushed open the restroom room door, walking to the sink and hoping they hand't shut off the plumbing yet. She switched it on and had to wait a few minutes before liquid streamed out, splashing against the bottom of the sink. Taking out a clean piece of cloth, she put it under the stream and started to clean up. "Can you get me the shirt I brought along?" She faltered after speaking this, remembering that Ronnie couldn't get her anything and dropping the reddened cloth into the sink, shutting off the water before moving to pick up the other things she had left in the store, which was a change of clothing. She was very prepared for this situation, since it was common.
"You didn't answer!" Ronnie whined, pouting and covering her eyes with her calloused hands as Quin started to pull of her torn shirt and tossed it to the side, pulling on the sweater she had packed. Ronnie didn't bother dropping her hands until Jane had changed her pants too, moving closer and bouncing by her side "Why are we here now? I liked the train station bathroom!"
"Because people still use that bathroom, so this one is better because no one can hear me talking to you." Quin shook her head as if this made perfect sense when it made just as much sense as trying to defend her stand point when talking to a figment of her imagination. Shrugging, she picked up the backpack she had been keeping the clothing in and swung it up over her shoulder, watching Ronnie in a bemused fashion as she started whining again
"Why does that matter?" Her pout deepened "You're not ashamed of me, are you?" Jane didn't respond, walking out of the bathroom and hoping Ronnie would fade soon enough, she had to go home and her parents catching her arguing with herself would.. kind of really suck. Like a lot.
This here's some ish I wrote on Write or Die whilst bored, like five minutes ago. Not edited. At All. Never going to be continued, but heres we go. Also I changed what genre I was writing a paragraph in. Also fun.
_______________________________________________________________
Her bare feet hit the ground hard and sent a wave of pain up her legs, making her grimace each time and clench her fists tighter. The rain beat down hard and she knew this had all been a mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. Continuing to run was her only choice and so she did, gulping for air as she ran farther and farther away from the school. She had lost her shoes and was covered in bruises, but she couldn't be near those kids anymore. One more punch and she wouldn't have been able to handle it anymore. She refused to allow thoughts of what had been happening to her to arise to the front of her mind, feeling a stress headache coming on. That or she had really hurt her head this time, she didn't know. Just like she didn't know if it was the rain sticking her hair flat against her head or blood, there were many things she didn't know the answer too and it was likely she never would. Answers weren't what she wanted anyways, she just wanted to get away. She didn't want to go back to the school. She didn't want to be beat again. One of the solutions she had sought for before had been death, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't pull the trigger and end it and she hated that, so instead she thought of running away since her parents refused to move, which she took as evidence of how little they cared.
It wasn't until Quin was at the recently shut down thai place that she stopped, shivering from the cold the rips in her clothing let in. This wouldn't have happened if the others didn't think she was crazy, which she was starting to think she just might be. Sane people didn't see monsters around every corner or hear voices, she hardly blamed the students for hitting her. She would do it too if she was in their shoes, but she wasn't. She was in the shoes, or bare feet as it was, of a lonely girl running from bullies, uncaring parents, and herself. She knew that there wasn't any changing her lot in life and that she was stuck being the crazy, abused girl until she was old enough to drop out and go somewhere that might be safer, which she figured was anywhere if she could refrain from the whole responding to her own thoughts out loud. People tended to look down upon her when she did that and she couldn't blame them, she's think anyone that did even half the things she did was crazy if she wasn't the one doing it.
But she was, so that was that and she would continue to deal with it her own way, which was to pretend it didn't matter, take care of anything they did when she got home, and just go back the next day like nothing happened. It.. didn't make the abuse end, but she doubted anything would which is why she continued her usual pattern by walking into the store and looking for her things. She was oblivious to most sounds, assuming any bumps or creeks were rodents wandering. It wasn't until she had dug up her belongings, turning and heading towards the lady's room when she realized it wasn't a rodent. Her hand was already on the door handle when she could have sworn she felt something tug at her shirt and looked away to see it. Or her. What was the best word to describe a hallucination? She spent a few minutes simply looking at it with disinterest and thinking about a good term, finally deciding to just keep calling it Ronnie like it had asked
"Why are we here?" Ronnie spoke, breaking the silence. The little thing Quin had thought up looked like she was ten, with brown hair that reached her hair that contrasted Quin's own blonde pixie cut. Where Quin's clothing was torn, her "friend's" clothing was still in the slightly messy, played in look as it always in, though Ronnie's shoes were gone
"Where are your shoes? No need to mimic this, Ronnie." Quin ignored the question, shaking her head as she openly responded to her imagination and pushed open the restroom room door, walking to the sink and hoping they hand't shut off the plumbing yet. She switched it on and had to wait a few minutes before liquid streamed out, splashing against the bottom of the sink. Taking out a clean piece of cloth, she put it under the stream and started to clean up. "Can you get me the shirt I brought along?" She faltered after speaking this, remembering that Ronnie couldn't get her anything and dropping the reddened cloth into the sink, shutting off the water before moving to pick up the other things she had left in the store, which was a change of clothing. She was very prepared for this situation, since it was common.
"You didn't answer!" Ronnie whined, pouting and covering her eyes with her calloused hands as Quin started to pull of her torn shirt and tossed it to the side, pulling on the sweater she had packed. Ronnie didn't bother dropping her hands until Jane had changed her pants too, moving closer and bouncing by her side "Why are we here now? I liked the train station bathroom!"
"Because people still use that bathroom, so this one is better because no one can hear me talking to you." Quin shook her head as if this made perfect sense when it made just as much sense as trying to defend her stand point when talking to a figment of her imagination. Shrugging, she picked up the backpack she had been keeping the clothing in and swung it up over her shoulder, watching Ronnie in a bemused fashion as she started whining again
"Why does that matter?" Her pout deepened "You're not ashamed of me, are you?" Jane didn't respond, walking out of the bathroom and hoping Ronnie would fade soon enough, she had to go home and her parents catching her arguing with herself would.. kind of really suck. Like a lot.