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Literature Text
(A/N) WARNING!!~ Super depressing prose-poem ahead! Read at your own risk!
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No noise ever escapes her mouth. But the shine in her eyes when she finds that little pocket watch in the grass near the pond is enough.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” The noise penetrates the stillness. Grinning, she closes the tarnished silver time-keeper and begins to plan, as only a mute seven-year-old can.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” Her mother shakes her head with a strange smile. Maybe, if the girl will talk when she gets older, the girl will sound like the woman's voice in her beloved pocket watch. Laughing, her mother hands her the vanilla ice cream cone.
Silence. All her father sees is the tarnished silver face-covering of the pocket watch. Sighing, her father admits defeat and decides to cuddle with her under some blankets in front of the fireplace. It was too cold to go outside, anyways.
The trees begin to turn magnificent colors as the days begin to cool.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” It rings across the playground. Short and tall people alike look to the girl in surprise. One with a smiling face, the woman the girl began to see as a kindred soul, tries to take her voice away.
Silence. She runs and runs and runs and runs. She gave the note to her parents and overheard the phone call.
What's sexual harassment?
They'd asked her if she'd wanted some brownies. “Yes, honey, I love you.” How her mother's eyes had watered!
But she will not let them have it.
With tears in her eyes, she clutches her voice to her chest... and a sob escapes her lips.
Gasping, the first things that spills from her hoarse tone, “Yes, honey, I love you.”
It's a whisper. But it's clear.
Excited, she runs back to the house, the pocket watch still in her hands, mostly forgotten... So excited, she doesn't pay attention when she crosses the road...
The pocket watch lies again in the grass near the pond, growing colder as the first snow blankets the world in it's freezing embrace.
____________________________________________________________________
No noise ever escapes her mouth. But the shine in her eyes when she finds that little pocket watch in the grass near the pond is enough.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” The noise penetrates the stillness. Grinning, she closes the tarnished silver time-keeper and begins to plan, as only a mute seven-year-old can.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” Her mother shakes her head with a strange smile. Maybe, if the girl will talk when she gets older, the girl will sound like the woman's voice in her beloved pocket watch. Laughing, her mother hands her the vanilla ice cream cone.
Silence. All her father sees is the tarnished silver face-covering of the pocket watch. Sighing, her father admits defeat and decides to cuddle with her under some blankets in front of the fireplace. It was too cold to go outside, anyways.
The trees begin to turn magnificent colors as the days begin to cool.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” It rings across the playground. Short and tall people alike look to the girl in surprise. One with a smiling face, the woman the girl began to see as a kindred soul, tries to take her voice away.
Silence. She runs and runs and runs and runs. She gave the note to her parents and overheard the phone call.
What's sexual harassment?
They'd asked her if she'd wanted some brownies. “Yes, honey, I love you.” How her mother's eyes had watered!
But she will not let them have it.
With tears in her eyes, she clutches her voice to her chest... and a sob escapes her lips.
Gasping, the first things that spills from her hoarse tone, “Yes, honey, I love you.”
It's a whisper. But it's clear.
Excited, she runs back to the house, the pocket watch still in her hands, mostly forgotten... So excited, she doesn't pay attention when she crosses the road...
The pocket watch lies again in the grass near the pond, growing colder as the first snow blankets the world in it's freezing embrace.
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Holy cow, what did I just write?
So, this was for my newly created Creative Writing Club. It was inspired by the darker short stories we've had to read in my AP English class.
I kinda want to go cry now.
...
kbai.
So, this was for my newly created Creative Writing Club. It was inspired by the darker short stories we've had to read in my AP English class.
I kinda want to go cry now.
...
kbai.
© 2014 - 2024 MelanthaTatsuya
Comments6
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Holy balls this was actually good. I've been sifting through the shit these deviantTARTs write and wasn't expecting something this... Impacting. I suck at critiques, and saying "good" isn't much, but this was good. Really good. Keep at it!