New Time

It's a wonderful world.

Man

She started crying so much he had to stop the car. He held her face between his large hands (so softly, it didn't match) and deeply looked inside her eyes, attempting to reach something.

Innocent, she looked back. 

She never tried to enter his sight, but ended up losing herself in its first corner. 

*sight*

There was a whole world inside your eyes. Dark black (if there is such a thing), like an abyss, into wich I just wanted to throw myself.

Scared, I think I never did.

The end was near and we knew it.
However, the scared human beings kept contructing barricades and gathering food for future days. I couldn't understand: they brought it upon theirselves. It didn't matter, anyway.

The torture chambers were of moral intention. There was no s"torturer"; There were gardens of rich and dark greens and wooden bridges - but - never water. People would walk, like childs playing hide and seek, until they get stuck on sharp blades and rusty spikes and nails, like a fly in a web. The spider would come as fire. Small and imperceptible, fastly spreading, merging it's yellows and reds to the almost black blood.

(Even inside the dreams, the screams scare us when we wake up).

I came back to the apartment. You (obvioulsy) never gave me the key, but there, it belonged to me and I found unusual you didn't change the lock.

I did not turn on the lights, just passed through the kitchen and restroom - black shadows and silhouettes apprehensive to what was to happen. The corridor was very long and "our" room was the last one. My hand went down the blanket to feel your warmth, but what I felt was the breathing of two people and the long hair of your new mate.
I ran away, trying to reach the exit before you get up, but soon after going throught the front door, your hand closed around my right arm.


"What happened?" you said.
Closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"You came here, in the middle of the night, because you wanted to chat?" her voice was sweet but sarcastic. It entered my chest like a knife.
"No, I believe there is a much greater reason" I answered, sincere and much more kind then I actually would be.
"Oh yes, your pen, isn't it?"

She disappeared between the shadows and you kept in silence, slowly closing the door. I nodded, and tried to reach you with my eyes in vain.

Later, your mate would give me back my wooden pen, destroyed, with letters burned with anger on it. And she would be certain and very fierce to say she didn't know it was a piece of much value to me. Sarcastic.

The end really was near and you didn't wanted to answer my calls. Finally you picked up and sighted.

Impatient.

New Theme

Changing the theme to make life easier to everyone, I think I chose a bad one (>_<). I'm making it short so that if anybody has already started writing, they will be able to just keep going.
Theme: Sight
Due: 30/11/2012

Chapter One - And so it begins

Henry James Faulkner was a bright 10 years old boy, with curly golden locks that danced when he moved and sparkly unwavering blue eyes. He lived together with his parents in the rich part of the town. His father was always working or tired and his mother was either shopping or with the neighboring ladies at tea parties, so normally he was left to play alone. That day in case, he was sitting in the toy room, with an angry maid looking after him.

- I don’t know how you did this! – said the maid without looking at the boy as she fixed his brand new coat. A wide rip on the shoulder, just above the beginning of the sleeve, left the white lining to be seen.

Henry said nothing. He kept on constructing a colorful tower of blocks and so did the maid with her pouting:

- Luckily your mother didn’t see it, she’d lose it! What a waste, she had just bought this fine coat and it is already ripped!! Your parents bought it especially for you when they went to the eastern country last week.

Yeah, thought the young boy, when they left me here with you and went to the most amazing places. It’s not that Henry didn’t like the maid, it is just that she was too strict and boring to play with and he wanted to see the eastern wonders so much that the time his parents stayed there he would dream every night about it and after they came back nobody would talk about anything else for the whole week, only making him more grumpy.

- Ouch – said the maid, holding her pricked finger, she stopped talking to focus on her sewing.

The boy felt bad about it, he didn’t do it on purpose, that morning he decided to wear the new eastern style coat and go exploring the garden, pretending he was at the eastern humid and exotic jungles, with all its beasts and poisonous plants. He got carried away and while dodging a jumping tiger, he ended up ripping his sleeve on a sharp tree branch.

Henry looked through the toy room’s window and saw the beautiful day outside, with a long sigh he added another piece to the tower, which caused it to crumble down.

He looked at the maid and waited, as she finished her work. She lifted the coat in front of her inspecting proudly her perfectly hidden sewing. She folded the clothing neatly and started stashing the materials back into the sewing kit. The boy sat still staring at her, so the maid turned to him and asked:

- What’s the matter little sir?
- Can I go back outside to play?

He asked with a strong gaze in his bright eyes and a firm voice, the maid was always surprised by Henry’s strong will and stubbornness, she sighed before answering:

- Oh Henry! You know how your parents feel about that… Why don’t you start behaving like every young boy your age and study hard to follow your father’s path? As his only heir, you are to take over his work in the future. You don’t know how lucky you are!

Henry James knew he was lucky, everybody kept repeating that to him, he just couldn’t understand why. Every time he saw his dad working it didn’t seem nice at all, just sitting behind a desk all day, playing with numbers and checking papers. Henry hated numbers. He had a free mind that travelled far. He craved for the unknown, for the different, always looking for something new, something thrilling. He wanted to see the world, he couldn’t simply stay behind a desk all day, he couldn’t and he wouldn’t and that was the day, Henry James Faulkner decided he wasn’t like every young boy.

"We don't make friends, we recognize them" (V.M.)

Abel was a good boy, for most things. He always did all of his homework. Well, almost always. He went to all of his classes, and paid attention to most of what the teacher said, just like any other little boy would. Abel also liked talking to all of his friends, or would, if he had many. Hi didn’t. It had no particular reason, nonetheless he was a little shy and had a different name, which people were always mispronouncing. What cause the problem was this unhelpful urge to correct them;

-          Can you solve this question, Abel? – would ask the teacher.

-          It’s not Abel, its Ah-bel. – would answer him.

As a matter of fact, most kids were merely polite or nice to him, no more. People took him for a fussy bastard, which wasn’t true, not at all, he only couldn’t handle people very well. There was only one he could truthfully call a friend.This is how he finds such a trustworthy friend.

As if it wasn’t enough, he was still small and skinny, and there was this big lad in his class, the kind of little boy that is little only in age, one who doesn’t pay any attention to what the teacher said, and who never ever finished his homework. He was called Korby, or at least, that was how everyone called him.

Every other day, he would be standing through Abel’s path, waiting for him to come in the morning, and thus take his money for lunch, or even he’s lunch itself, if it was the case. Also, Korby would make several mean names to call his school mates, and would steal other children toys on Fridays, the toy-bringing-day at school. But Abel wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore.

At first, he would simply stay there and do as Korby commanded. Later, his mother and father noticed the problem and talked to him:

-          You must not let this happened. He is big, but he is one. If you talk to the other children, and walk together, he won’t be big enough to take you all.

Although Abel did not have many friends, there were many children threatened by Korby and so went to talk to them. It was no good, everybody were afraid that after a group assault, Korby would come and take them individually, or perhaps he would call himself a group, and there would be no chance to scape.

Abel then went back to his parents, and thus they said:

-          Well, we must, them, talk to the school administration. But do not fear, son, do not surrender. Keep on looking for other children to whom might present a threat, and know, he is not unbeatable.

Abel truthfully  believed in his parents, and believing he should stand as an example to encourage the others, and thus he decided to act. Ever since, Korby would strike him down every single time he stood for his lunch, as for a little fellow threatened child. He never said nothing but “no” whenever the big one came to face him. He thus begun to arrive home, every afternoon, with bruises and marks, and so his parents became worried.

        They told him to stop, that without help, it was no use, it was not wise, or healthy, to face such a boy. They told him to look for the adults help at school. But Korby wasn’t allowed to be mean at school terrain anymore, it happened always outside. Abel didn’t wanted to be weak and let Korby do as he pleased. He felt that it was the right thing to do.

One day, while everyone left school to return to their homes, he saw Korby coming towards his direction, stopping right in front of him, and asking for his remote control car, it was a Friday.

Abel stood up there, on his feet, and said:

-          No.

-          Well – responded Korby – But I want to play whit it, if you brought it o school than it mean you must share it. – and thus pushed Abel to the ground.

-          But if the car remains with you only – said an strange voice – then it’s not sharing. And if you take it with you after, without his permission, then that’s stealing.

Nobody had ever talked to Korby in such way before. When he turned around the new boy was there, standing on his feet, with determination in his eyes. The new boy was from another country, and no one knew nothing about him.

-          So, you’re calling me a thief? – asked Korby.

-          Yes. I am. – That was something new. Even more than the previous words.

Thus being, Korby proceeded to punch the new boy, just as he did to everyone else. Abel saw it through, and puched the big one to the ground himself. They almost lose it all that day, but the survived nonetheless.

When Abel asked the new boy how was he called, he smiled:

-          My name is Paulo – he replied.

-          Thanks Paul – said Abel, and smiled back.

-          Oh, no! It’s not Paul, it’s Pau-LO!

It was a memorable day. 

Every young boy

"What are little boys made of?

What are little boys made of?

          Slugs and snails

          And puppy-dogs' tails,

That's what little boys are made of."

He lightly pressed the blade on his soft skin, a viscous and consistently liquid came through the slit. "There's nothing like this inside of me" he thought, "no slugs, snails or puppy-dogs' tails... What am I made of?". He calmly led his lips to the viscous liquid that insisted to get out, almost shy now, but insistent enough to slip through his fragile skin. "What am I made of...?". He would like to be like every other young boy of his age... so why he was transforming into something like this? Surrounded by people but feeling alone, always feeling apart from others , always feeling different. Nobody would ever be able to understand it, this feeling of being different in so many ways. How was it possible for one human being feel this way? The reason behind all this might actually be something that nobody could ever understand even in their wildest dreams or in the vastness of a deep anger.

At school he was the most intelligent and studious one. All his mates praised him and surrounded him with talks and laughs trying to get his attention, but he didn't really cared about that. 

When asked what he wanted to be when he grow up, as other boys always had 3 different answers, he always kept only one: "I want to be a scientist". "Why a scientist?" people asked, "because scientists can discover things... they can figured out everything.". To the most of the people he was a bright and silent boy who kept a world of his own, a kid beside his age, a child with a bright future.

What a commotion. That day was a commotion. It was a chilly and foggy day when in a backyard of an old and abandoned house, cracked by the time and by the mustiness, far away from the neighborhood, a little boy with a little hatchet was squatting down, looking at a snail that was moving slowly on the dry grass. But there was something different about that scenario. When an old man saw the boy among the fog, he stepped into something that made a familiar sound of wet grass, as if it had rained the last night, but it hasn't. Step by step the man waved his arms in front of himself, trying to remove the fog and see better. That day was a commotion. Beside the bright boy, a boy not much older than him was laying on the soaked grass by blood that looked almost black because of the weather. "What am I made of?", whispered looking at the snail.

Suddenly the boy dropped the hatchet and crawling towards the dead body starting to lick the blood. The man let out a shriek of horror and the boy turned to him with bulging eyes and wide open mouth leting out a shrill squeak. The man ran away, screaming that the bright boy had gone insane.

When a group of man arrived the old cracked house, there was nothing but a dead body, a little hatchet and a black cat covered in blood. The cat looked at those man in panic with confused eyes and giving a low meow that seemed a slight chuckle it turned quickly and ran, disappearing into the fog.