literature

Pen Caps

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prplkiwi's avatar
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Literature Text

Lyn was a pretty girl.

Lyn was afraid of cars, especially moving ones.

She was terrified of frogs, even simple pictures.

And she has a phobia of ink from pens, but she still bit the ends of them.

Why did the chicken cross the road? I'm not sure, but I thought chickens were scared of roads.

Why did Lyn cross the road? I'm sure it was to meet Kris and run away from Gregory.

Oh, I forgot to mention, Lyn didn't like Gregory.

She tried to cross the road that day. Yes, she was paranoid. But you had to cross that road during some part of your life. If I'm not wrong she was wearing a white blouse, blue jeans and a pair of sneakers. The streets weren't so busy; there weren't many cars when she crossed. Her short hair was tied into a loose ponytail and her fringe was left unclipped. If my memory isn't muddle with yet, I am sure it was an apple green Mazda driven by a blue collared young man. He was about twenty plus and had a cute horror stuck face. If I remembered correctly, that was the car that struck her down.

It all happened in a hurry, the sudden screech of new tires; the soft thump that could only seem loud right there, right then; the screams as everybody turned around to see her unmoving against the windscreens, with blood splattered on everything like rain. Bodies oceaned around the scene, murmurs filled the air like mantra. He pushed past the broad shoulders of the crowd to her. Kris tried to shake her awake wishing this was all a joke and she'd open her eyes and shout "Boo!" and announce proudly that the blood was an experiment to see if people would fall for it. But she never woke; you could not wake a flower that petals have been ripped out from their core. Kris had his arms around her flail body. That afternoon, for that one moment, I swear the world went still and had a moment of silence for that bouncy headed girl named Lyn. Just for that one moment, all the way to the seven oceans wide, Manhattan, New York and maybe Brazil went silent too. I was pretty sure that painful guilt-ridden silence was the disease and all of them were the subjects, the experimented.

Did I tell you about Gregory? No? I'll let you know he was standing at the corner of the street an angle away from the Mazda. He had a brown paper package tied up with bow between his palms before it slipped and gave a soft thud on the concrete ground below him. Guess what, the package was filled with rainbow color-inked pens.

And so life goes on as everyday as it seems with only the empty void in Lyn's bedroom, the hollow space in Kris's heart, the painted memory in Gregory's brain and the shadow of guilt behind the Mazda's driver to be the difference. And maybe I can use the guilt of that blue collared guy to threaten him into a date with me someday. Maybe someday.

You don't really need to wonder who I am and how did I get to see this miracle of a sort 'cause I'll tell you. I was on the bus stop roof, my butt on the hard tiles with Death's head resting on my shoulder and his hand in mine. And mind you, he's very warm and very much alive.
Lyn is just another name of someone i know. well, knew. she moved out of my school about a week ago. Kris is her boyfriend. Gregory is an annoying shorty in my class. he is kinda addicted to annoying 'Lyn'.

Just a random story =-=
_____
Okay?
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lordogreus's avatar
Wait—where's the badass loli?