WannabeWriter

For once her family would all be together eating Christmas dinner. Maybe they would play a game or just relax and watch tv together. Indulge in a Christmas movie or maybe one completely irrelevant. Maybe they would forgo the event and do everything that resembled it’s opposite. Not matter what they would celebrate and they would do it together. That’s all she wanted.

She needs me and she knows she does but she doesn’t want me.

She invites me in and holds me only to force me out again. But she still needs me.

I’m drawn back in only to be forced out again moments later.

She holds me. Tighter and tighter, she holds me as the cold embraces her. This is her decision, she’s made her choice, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I have no control.

She pushes me out again fighting not to bring me back in but this time, when she caves and draw in what she thought was me, she found only the cold that has now fully taken her.

The cold and the dark takes her away from me. Slowly, she loses all traces of me or close to.

And with that no one will ever see her again. Not me, not you, not anyone.

One day she may be found but she will never be the same.

He was, by all definition, a weird kid. He was walking around in the park, damp grass soaking his socks but he didn’t care. The rain was moderately strong so no one was outside but him. He walked along the path back home admiring the rubbish in amongst the plants. He thought it was beautiful, the tragic impact of humanity. A devastating impact but a beautiful tragedy.

He walked down a footpath bordered with garden beds. He was in a strange sad-but-happy mood he considered content. He stopped in his tracks as he realised he was about to step on a snail, usually he would have but today he was feeling nice so he picked it up and put it on the soil of the garden bed beside him. Both head and tail end of the snail retracted, body not yet fully in the shell as it assessed the danger that has presented itself. When it touched the soil it relaxed again and continued on its way. There was another snail in sight so the boy did the same thing again, the snail yet again scared but relaxed once it realised it wasn’t in any danger.

He walked further down the path, happy with his work, when he came across another snail. He tried to pick it up but in stead of letting go of the ground and retracting inward the snail held firm, the shelling pulling slight from the body so he left it alone. He walked away thinking that was the end of it but something awoke inside him, something that had been asleep during his content moment, and he went back for the snail. He wanted to see if he could take the shell off it. He wondered what the snail would look like underneath. The shell oozed soapy bubbles most likely poison to predators, this snail was afraid. He let the snail go watching as it calmed down and began to crawl away. The bubbles stopped pouring and all was well until he touched it again. He put no force behind his finger but the pressure of being touched scared their snail enough to make it ooze again. Of course, since his finger was at the top of the shell the boy wasn’t touching the possibly poisonous substance so he just watched the show unfold before him without care. Eventually though he began to feel bad so he left the snail alone and finally walked away.

She much preferred winter. When you got too cold you could merely wear more. You could wrap yourself up in a cocoon of fabrics, hot drink in hand to sip at your leisure. Not in summer.