Story- Mimic Song-In the end by black veil brides (helped inspire this story)

There she was. Her tan skin gone pale, she looked like death. Well maybe that was because she was pretty damn close to it. They said not to touch her but I would hold her hand anyways. It was cold. I would do anything to make her warm again. Even though she had no expression I could she was sad.

            This wasn’t my fault, but the person who did this was gone. He wasn’t dead, but he ran. Most of me wanted to blame him but a small part of me wanted to blame her, but how could I when she was laying here. Her life wasn’t in her hands anymore.

 I got up and walked to the elevator. The door was just about to close when a male voice yelled for me to hold the door. I stuck my hand in the middle so it wouldn’t close. I saw a handsome male doctor about my age rush between the chrome doors.

“What floor?” I asked quietly

“Uh, the first.”

            I hit the button for him, then put my clammy hands back in my coat pockets.

            “Visiting?”

            “Yes.”

            “You come here a lot”

            “Yeah.”

            “You aren’t much of a talker, are you?”

            “Sorry, you just caught me in mid-thought.”

            “Your friend is pretty bad shape, isn’t she?”

            “How do you know?”

            “Know what?”

            “That my friend is a she.”

            “I’ve noticed you, what is your friend’s name?”

“Lola.”

“And what is your name?”

“Carolyn.”

“Would you like to know my name?”

I shrugged and gave him a head nod.

“I’m Mason or Dr. Russell.”

The handsome young doctor flashed his name tag at me while he told me. As he talked to me I looked his body up and down and observed his body language. He was about 5’9, had wavy dirty blonde hair mostly off to the side. He was one of those people that would look directly into your eyes when he spoke to you. He came off as confident. He wasn’t. He hated the fact that he was one of the younger doctors. He was very easy to analyze. I could analyze anyone. It was just a gift I had. I had a few others, but this was the strongest. I didn’t know why he was speaking to me. I definitely wasn’t his type. I could just pick that up right away.

The door finally opened and he walked out with me and continued to talk to me.

“Do you live around here?”

“Sort of”

He started to head to his car.

‘Do you need a ride?”

“No, I’m fine. I will ride the bus.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“I guess I will see you tomorrow then.”

I give him a nod and walk away. I stop at the bus stop ahead of me. I waited there quietly for a few minutes then the bus came. I gave my dollar and sat down. I pressed my head against the autumn chilled window.

 I started to feel this unbearable headache. As the ride went on it got worse and worse. More people entered the bus. Every new person brought new information in my head. I felt temples throbbing. I took a deep breath and slipped my hands into the pockets of my jacket. I closed my eyes and put my head back. I could feel the sticky sweet drip down the back of my neck. I threw my short, curly, fiery orange hair into a small ponytail.

 More people got on the bus. I couldn’t stop my mind from wondering into theirs.  I was incapable of not analyzing people. My mind was becoming overloaded. I got up at next stop and started running as fast as I could. I wasn’t that far from my apartment. I rushed to unlock the door and went to the nearest trash can and continued to puke. My body mimicked the feeling of a hangover. I slumped down at my kitchen island. I could drink alcohol all freaking week and not feel a thing but the second I’m around a big group of people I feel weak and drunk.

I dragged myself over to the couch and sat. I looked around my empty apartment. It was neat and tidy just how I liked. Well it was more like spotless, I had been doing everything I could to stay distracted while Lola was gone. It was so clean. Too clean. I stood up and started to throw the blankets on the floor in the process I knocked over a lamp and it broke. I jumped up and down on it and smashed other things. After an hour of doing this I looked at the disaster I had made. I was backed into one clean corner. I slid down the wall and laid down. I wanted to cry so badly, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t capable. The only time I could express real heart felt emotion was with Lola. Only because she could tap into my emotions and make me do what I tried my whole life to avoid.

I took my own hand and held it.  It had been this way since I was three. I closed my eyes and slept in that one clean corner.

Next day I got up and changed, my clothes and headed to the hospital. I wore ear plugs on the bus hoping that would help a little. It did…barley. When I got to the room Lola was in, I saw a worried look on Mason’s or Dr. Russell’s face.

“Carolyn we have new information about your friend Lola.”

“What is it?”

“We did a blood test on her a two days ago and we just got the results back.”

“And?”

“Nothing showed up.”

“Well isn’t that good then?”

“No, nothing showed up as in no information. It says she has no blood type!”

I looked at Mason calmly. He was confused why I wasn’t freaking out. I walked over to Lola and took her hand and felt her veins. I felt a vibration. As long as I felt that vibration I knew she was alive. The reason why she didn’t have a blood type was because she was protecting herself. She sensed that something was wrong. He was back. He was here in the hospital I could tell. And coming closer.

I heard someone clear their throat and Mason and I turned around. Dr. Lloyd, who was Lola’s main doctor and some other guy were standing in the doorway. I was still holding onto Lola’s hand and I felt it tense up.

“Oh Carolyn you’re here. I’m guessing that Dr. Russell filled you in about the new details on Lola.” Said Dr. Lloyd

I stood up to face the two people.

“Yes, he did.”

“Quite strange isn’t?” said the man

“Oh Carolyn, Doctor Russell this is Dr. Epstein. He is the new hematologist. He specializes in blood. He reviewed Lola’s case.”

I stared directly into the man’s eyes. Something was blocking my analysis of him. The man kept avoiding my eye contact and staring at Lola. I touched my veins and felt the vibration jump from being high to low. They told us that Lola’s case was very strange and they would run more tests on her. The two doctors left.

“I need to see her file.”

“Dr. Lloyd will never show you the file.”

“Then you go get it and show me.”

“I can’t, I’m not her immediate doctor.”

“Fine, I will get it myself.”

“But how, they keep them locked up and the only way you can get in is fingerprints.”

I looked at my hands then at the door knob. Doctor Lloyd was the last one to touch it. I watched my hands become a blank slate.

“I will figure it out.” I said as I walked to the door.

I put both of my hands on the door knob and watched as Doctor Lloyd’s fingerprints become mine. I walked out of the room and looked and found a doctor and followed her to the room where they kept the files. I watched her place her hand on the scanner, walk in and walk out. I jogged up to the door and made sure no one was around, and then placed my hand on the scanner. It read Dr. Francis Lloyd. I walked in and the door closed behind me. I searched for her file and frequently checked the door just to make sure no one was coming in.

I finally found Lola’s file. I slipped it into my jacket and left. I headed straight for the elevator. I slide through the doors right before it shut. I took a second to catch my breath, then I realized someone was beside me. I looked over and it was that new doctor that looked over Lola’s case. I straightened up and felt my veins, the vibration was very weak. I saw the man out of the corner of my eye and he was smirking. He was finally looking at me so I looked at him in his eyes.

I put my back against one of the walls of the elevator and slid my hands in my pockets. He was still smirking.

All of the sudden things became a lot less cloudy. I looked back at him. It was him. Before he could finish turning towards him I gripped his neck and slammed him against the elevator doors and hit the stop button with my other hand.

“Looks like someone finally wised up.”

“Why the hell are you here?”

“Because I can be.”

“Why did you do this to Lola!?”

“Oh, I didn’t. Your stupid little friend just got in the way.”

My grip tightened. “Of what?”

“I was aiming for you, but she took it upon herself to “protect”, you.”

I lifted him up by his neck.

“Why are you after me?”

“Because I can.”

“Oh cut the crap Dad!”

“So you remember me.”

“Of course I do. A kid never forgets stuff like that.”

“Then you know why I am here.”

“You were always angry, you didn’t have a boy and then I was born and you didn’t want anything to do with me. I also remember that you tried to kill me when I was younger, so my mother sent me to live Lola.”

He shrugged his shoulders. I dug my nails into his easily breakable neck.

“Wow you think you are so strong don’t you?”

He kneed me in the stomach and pushed me against the wall. And held a knife to my neck.

“Here we are again. You deserve to die Carolyn.

I struggled to breath.

“You were always jealous of me. You couldn’t take that after I was born that you weren’t the strongest mimic anymore!”

“Well of course! How could a little girl have stronger gifts than me! How could any woman be stronger than me?”

“Well you are just a sexist asshole aren’t you?”

I stared at the knife and bent the metal. He threw the knife to the side.

“Fine, I will just kill you with my bare hands.”

I tilted my head. “Aw thanks dad that’s so sweet.”

I levitated the knife and straightened it. I could never do that before. I looked at my father and he looked surprised. I sent the knife straight into his heart. He clutched his chest and I kicked the knife farther into his chest.

I stepped over his dying body and pried the doors open and ran back to Lola’s room. I saw frantic doctors all over her. Her eyes were open. I felt my veins. The vibration was normal. Lola was back.

 

 

 

 

Greed

          She stops at nothing. Her hands are always waiting for more. Dripping with blood from others. She wants what she wants. No stopping greed from taking it all. Her hands wrap around the necks of others, squeezes until you are dry. The selfish desire is inside and out. The intensity of her need pushes everyone away. Greed is alone, she has everything in the world but she is alone. Her greedy hands dig at anything and everything.

                                                      Anger

 

          Anger is lonely, hateful and impulsive. He is vicious. He is the feeling you feel when you are being swallowed up by overwhelming stress. He is the cause of many regretful things. He can be covered up for sadness. He has done so many bad things. He doesn’t sit still, he has spiraling rage. A loose cannon trying to be controlled. A defiant mess. A fly stuck in a spider’s web. No matter what he does he can’t escape his dark cloud. His anger is shown on his pale lifeless face. He demands to be seen. He comes through not just me but you as well. Anger swallows you whole.

 

The inequality between majors at our school

 

 

At school of the arts we celebrate creativity. Our school is made up of kids with different talents. We are
“appreciated”.  But are we really? As creative writing majors we sit in a room and write on substandard computers.

One day I was in lunch with my peers and we started to discuss the budgets for majors. It turned into a big fight. Everyone turned on our major. Saying that we didn’t need anything important. That we were a useless major. The truth is we aren’t. 

There are drama majors who think they are better than every major. They aren’t. Who writes their plays or scenes that they perform? Writers do. Dance majors brag about being important. Dance majors dance to songs. Who wrote the songs? Songwriters. When instrumental majors play a piece of music they are playing song written by a composer. 

I feel as our major and the visual art major is left behind. When I tell someone I go to Sota their first words are “Oh so you are a drama major?” Or “Oh so you are a dance major?” Creative writing is there last thought. Some of my past and current teachers have said that creative writing is one of the hardest majors to get into. Everyone can write, but not everyone can use their imagination to create a beautiful piece of work.

 

When the time comes to interview for colleges, to say you were a creative writing major will help you a lot. Colleges will look at that and think it's great. When a dance major goes into an interview and says I can dance, that’s great and fine bout how's your English grade? One injury can ruin everything.

 

It isn't fair that our major is a second thought. Drama majors have plays, dance majors have showcases. Tech majors help with the plays, vocal and instrumental majors have concerts. Visual art majors and our major don't have anything. We may have the coffee house reading but that's forced and part of a grade. We have a few contests but that doesn't showcase everyone and is open to anyone.

 

As a creative writing major and a student I feel very strongly about this. In my opinion our school shows favoritism and it isn't fair. Our major shouldn't be put on the backburner or over shadowed. Every major should be equal. I believe that our major should have more opportunities.

inspired a story

magic machine

It was a gloomy dark day, and it wouldn’t have felt right if the sun was out. Today was the anniversary of my parent’s death. It happened eighteen years ago today. My mother and father died in a plane accident when I was two. I was given to my godmother. Her name is Matilda. Matilda did everything she could to make my life successful.

Matilda owned a tailor shop, she specialized in wedding dresses. I mostly ran the shop now since Matilda got soft tissue sarcoma two years ago. The past three months have been the worst, she has pretty much been sick in bed.

            It was a pretty dead day in the shop. I was just finishing up my best friend’s wedding dress. Her wedding was in one month and she was coming in for her last fitting today. I liked the shop when it was like this. Dead silent, the only noises that surrounded me were of the scissors cutting across fabric or the sewing machine doing its work. Using the sewing machine was the most soothing thing to me. I called it my magic machine. It never broke or messed up stiches and it was the oldest machine we had in the shop. Matilda said it was passed down from many generations and I would get it when she passed away, but I didn’t like to think about that. Even though I know it was coming.

My soothing sounds of the sewing machine were interrupted by a group of loud girls stumbling into the door. They were the rich girls of our precious town of River Gold.  I made my way to the front of the store to greet them. I mustered up as much politeness in my voice that I could.

“Hello.” I gave a big fake smile

A girl with soft grey eyes and a sharped angled orangey-red bob made her way to the front of the pack.

“I’m here to find a wedding dress.”

“Well we have a lovely selection in back, I will be right there to help you.”

The pack made their way to the back of the shop and my smile dropped. I took one deep breath and straightened up my lack luster clothing. I walked back there and saw them all browsing. 

“Have you found any you would like to try on?”

The girl whipped her head around and walked towards me.

“What is your name and position?”

“I’m Thea and I pretty much run the shop.”

“Well Thea, I’m Jenny and I just got engaged and I expect to be treated like royalty since the person I’m marrying is like royalty to this town.”

I took a deep breath “Of course”.

For hours I was sitting there being a servant to Jenny and her friends.  After I led them out I saw my best friend Beverly    coming through the glass doors.

“You look exhausted.”

“Yes, well the queen and her princesses demanded my attention at every moment.”

“Yeah I heard that Jenny is getting married. At least you’ll get paid a lot.

I shrugged my shoulders, and sat on a stool.

“How’s Matilda doing?”

“She wasn’t doing too well this morning. The past three months have been really hard. This morning she couldn’t even get out of bed. I was going to go up to see her but then Jenny came in. “

“Oh well I will come with you to go check on her.”

Beverly and I walked up to the apartment above the store. The apartment was quiet. No TV, no coffee maker brewing. Just silence.

“Matilda?”

No response. I said her name again as I walked into her room.

“Maybe she is asleep.”

I walked up to Matilda and shook her shoulder and she just fell to the side. I grabbed her hand and it felt cold. I backed away, I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

“What is it Thea?”

I looked at her with tear-filled eyes. Beverly’s expression changed from concerned to mournful. She wrapped me up in a hug.  

Five months later my life consisted of barring myself in my work. Mostly Jenny’s dress, she would change her mind every two days. Beverly would visit me every day, sometimes she would bring her new husband along, but even she liked it better when it was just us. Today Jenny was supposed to come in with the fabric she wanted her veil to be made out of but she called and said it would be her fiancé instead.

I walked by the “magic” sewing machine and rubbed it for good luck. I did it every day since Matilda passed away. It reminded me of her. I would look at the shiny machine and just wish I could see her again. It reminded me of when I was little and would watch all of the fairy tale movies and call Matilda my fairly god mother. She would tell me that when it came time for me I would make my own hopes and dreams and find my prince. I didn’t need a fairy god mother to help me, but a little magic could do everyone some good.

I was moving somethings around when I heard the bell on the door ring. I peaked out from behind a mannequin and saw a handsome man my age walk in with cream colored fabric.

“Why do all the bitches get the good looking ones?” I thought to myself

“I’m Thea, how may I help you?”

“I’m Gavin. I’m Jenny’s fiancé. Well lately more of her slave.” He gave a chuckle.

“Gavin Gold?”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“Your great, great grandfather founded this town. Everyone knows you. You are like a prince.”

“Not really.”

“Everyone thinks it.”

“I wish Jenny did, I feel like I’m here just to pay for the wedding and her dress.”

“Well isn’t Jenny’s family wealthy?”

“Yes, very wealthy one of the richest girls.”

“Well I guess you could say I’m the poorest.”

Why do you say that?”

“I have no family, not very much money. Just this machine.” 

I rested my hand on the “magic” sewing machine and rubbed it one time. Gavin looked at the machine like it was made out of diamonds. He was instantly drawn to it. I took my hand off of the machine and it’s like he came back into reality.

“I better go”

He handed me the fabric and left in a rush. Ever since that day Gavin would come with Jenny to her fittings or anything like that. He would always stare at the machine intensely. One day Jenny was in the back looking at accessories, I booted up the machine and put in gold thread for making Jenny’s veil. Gavin leaned against the wall by me.

“I’m not happy.”

“What do you mean?”

“With Jenny. She doesn’t make me happy. You make me happy. The past three months of talking to you have been amazing.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. Gavin grabbed my hands and pulled me up.

“I don’t care if she is the richest girl and you are the poorest girl, you know what life is, and you don’t take it for granted. Every day I watch you at your sewing machine and I’m just instantly drawn to you. I want you.”

I grabbed a hold of Gavin’s hands. Maybe this machine was magic after all. I rubbed my hand on it and gold sparks came out. The machine was my hope all along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

work in progress

                I hear light footsteps creeping down the hall. I heard someone turn my door knob. I hid my face under the blanket. I stayed as still as I could so he thought I was sleeping. I heard the click-clack of heels heading towards my room. Her heels were softened from my carpet. I glanced at my clock. It was almost one a.m. They were back from the casino.  I hated her. Her twenty-six year old self. Such a gold digger. She was always drunk and now so was he. She ruined my life.

                “I bet Camel-“

                “It’s Camille,” my father interjects in a drunk slur.

                “Whatever. Camille, camel, same thing.” Holly, my dad’s whore of a new wife replies loudly. “I bet she had a guy over. I bet he came as soon as we left.”

                I peek my head out of the blankets enough to see my dad wrap his arms clumsily around the whore’s tiny waist. “Come on, relax. Let’s let her sleep,” slurs my dad. I know he is trying to defend me, when it comes to her, he usually gives up.

                I see Holly, or, as I call her, Whore-y, look towards my bed. I try to hide my face before she sees, but unfortunately, think it’s too late. When I think it’s safe, I poke my head out of the blanket again to see her smirking at my dad. “Yeah, Mitch. Why don’t we go to our bed?” She grabs my father by the back of his neck and kisses him ferociously, adding emphasis to what she just said.

                I cover my face, not wanting to see any more. I hear their footsteps leaving my room. The door slams behind them, and I know that it’s Whore-y that slammed it. I have a hard time going back to sleep due to the high pitched screams that travel to me through the walls. The next morning, I walk down our carpeted steps. I am wearing dark blue jeans and t-shirt with a dark blue floral pattern. When I get to the landing, I grab my favorite fluffy gray zip-up sweatshirt. I put it on as I walk into the kitchen. I see my father sitting at the kitchen island with his head in his hands and an aspirin bottle right next to him. I roll my eyes, thinking about how often this happens and go to the fridge to get milk for my cereal. As I close the fridge, I turn around to see Whore-y standing in the doorway wearing a short, revealing silky robe, her hair a mess.

                I ignore her and begin preparing my bowl of cereal. I hear her cross to where my father is and she starts cooing in his ear about the night before. “Aw, baby, are you ok?” She pauses, waiting for him to respond. When he doesn’t, she continues, “Well that’s ok, because last night was really worth it.” The entire time she is trying to show “sympathy” for my father, she is glaring at me.

                For the first time since I came into the kitchen, my father looks up at me. I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. I take my bowl of cereal with me to the other end of the island, trying to make myself as far away from them as possible, eating my cereal as fast as I can so I can get the hell out of here. Once I am done eating, hurry out the door to catch my bus to school. I think I’m the only teenaged girl in the world that prefers school to home. The bus ride to school was peaceful. As I walk into school I see my best friend Ivy was standing by our lockers and texting on her phone. I walked up to her thankful to be around someone who didn’t drive me completely insane.

                “Sup bitch.” She greeted me like that all the time

I walked towards her and hugged her.

                “Bad night?” She asked hugging back

                “Very bad. I really hate Holly! She got my father drunk once again.”

                “Has he been bad?” Asked Ivy

                “Well he has become violent. But last night he was alright. I could hear him and Whore-y having sex.”

Ivy and I walked to class. Ivy had been my best friend since sixth grade. She was the only one who really knew the reason why my mom died. We just told everyone she was sick. Well she was but not like cancer or cough, cough sick. My mom used to do drugs before she met my dad. She quit long before me, but three years ago when I was fourteen my aunt, cousin and grandfather died in a car crash