and then the world exploded;;

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Carrie (1976) dir. Brian De Palma

                              A girl, a girl. It’s a girl.

http://the-pastel-rainbow.tumblr.com/  (via yoursixwordstory)

  " stalkin’ you? n o   n o “   actually  y e a h    kind  of      if  you  want  to   get   technical …  ” you’re  a  little      y o u n g  for  me  t’be  s t a l k i n ’  don’t  y’think? “      w o w   that  doesn’t sound  better  at  all.  a  q u i c k      precautionary glance is given about, “ look. my name      is dean. i’m in town with  my  brother  because        ”      there’s a   p a u s e.  this  still  all  sounds so  c r a z y      to  the older winchester. ” would you believe me if i      said we were here for   y o g a f e s t ?                       ”      if   she   k n e w   him   it   really  wouldn’t   be  such  a      f a r f e t c h e d       claim       to        believe       s a d l y.

{✞} The entire time she spoke, she never took her eyes, which were blazing with anger, off him. Carrie ignored the kid who shot her a  fearful look and picked his bike up, rolling it along next to him as he  ran away. No one knew what Carrie could do, but a select few were  smart enough to realize that she was capable of....something. {✞} "Okay, maybe stalking isn't the right word. Why are you following me?" She knew he was. There was no other explanation as to why the black car was always lurking somewhere. The windshield hid its occupants, but she knew what they were looking at, or what they were looking for: Scary Carrie, Bloody Carrie, Carrietta Noelle White. {✞} But why was he watching her? She wasn't pretty or famous like  most stalking victims seemed to be. Really, the only thing relatively interesting about Carrie was the Power, and no one knew anything definitive about it except herself and Mama. Everyone had been  exposed to it at some point--witnessed it, heard of it, whatever--but no one could concretely connect it to Carrie. {✞} Only Mama, but she thought it was a demon inside Carrie's body lifting things and sending them into the wall or making it rain stones. Carrie knew the truth, though. God had blessed her with a beautiful gift, something to protect her from her mother's abuse and the torment of her peers. {✞} "I'm Carrie," she said quickly, dismissing his greeting. "Dean, I don't care about your love for yoga. I want to know why you're parked outside my school."

"With our help, Carrie, I believe you can also help other people, too. I don’t believe Chamberlain was completely your fault."

{✞} "Most people don't have that view," Carrie said. {✞} She was one of those people--of course it was her fault. She killed nearly everyone at school, plus about 300 others. Including Mama. Carrie had murdered her own mother, and that was unforgivable. Scissors and knives and everything sharp had flown into her body, puncturing every necessary vein and artery, then Carrie forced cardiac arrest on her. {✞} God would never forgive her, no matter how many times she prayed. {✞} But it was nice to know that she wasn't alone in causing mass suffering. "Was he the thing that destroyed Harlem a few years ago? Mama listened to reports on that on the radio."

"I’ve never been here before," she shrugged. "But I’m not afraid of ghosts." She tried to imagine what her own house’s reputation was, back in Minnesota. She wondered if the new owners had painted over the looming word cannibals which had been spraypainted black on her door. For a moment, she was tempted to talk about her dad, the Minnesota Shrike, who stained Abigail’s name and nearly stole her future. But she held back and decided to get more information before she gave any away. “Why would they think it’s haunted just because of you and your mom?”

{✞} “Oh, well that was a little joke. You know, because there's always a house that people come up with a story for. Like the Radley house in To Kill a Mockingbird," Carrie said. It seemed like the Whites were the Radleys of Chamberlain. Extremely religious, a stoic parental figure, and a child sheltered from the world. "They think Mama is crazy. I just think she's a little confused about some aspects of the bible."  {✞} All of that was said with a smile, and everything she said was true--younger kids would run past the Bungalow like Jem and Scout would run past the Radley lot, and Carrie really did believe (to an extent) that her mother was confused. God wasn't malicious or cruel or spiteful--He was kind and forgiving. {✞} “You obviously aren't afraid of ghosts or being judged. You're talking to 'Creepy Carrie' after all."

"I come from a place called SHIELD, and we specialize in special people that have gifts not unlike yours."

{✞} That last part caught Carrie's attention. "...gifts?" she asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously. There were...others? Well, others that weren't frauds, like that performer from Las Vegas that taught people how to levitate. "You mean, you know about...me?" {✞} If she knew that Carrie had...abilities, then she must've known about what happened in Chamberlain. Well, more specifically, she had to know the details about the prom night massacre--known popularly as 'The Black Prom.' Again, her mind wandered back to a single question, modified this time. {✞} “Why would you want to help me?" {✞} By definition, Carrie was a mass murderer. She had killed over 400 people, directly or indirectly, after Chris Hargensen dumped pig's blood on her. She certainly murdered every guest at the dance--some were electorcuted, others set on fire. The twins were even trampled by the herd trying to escape. {✞} “I wouldn't even help me."

      “ i apologize, young lady, “ he said, looking down at her. she was right; there were other ways of being heard and being listened to. but what were those — ? he could as well ask her, given that young minds can sometimes be BETTER than the ones which learned over centuries —- “ and what would it be, the other ways? “

{✞} You know that old expression? Children should be seen and not heard? Carrie was good at that. She had hardly spoken a word to anyone in her home town (other than Mama), but by the end of prom night, there was one name pounding in everyone's head and falling from everybody's lips: Carrie White. {✞} She had been seen and heard. She showed her tormentors what she could do, and they had understood her cries for help for the first time. And now, if they survived, they would not remember her as the weird girl with the crazy mother. They would remember her as Carrie White, the girl who brought Chamberlain to its knees. {✞} “Sometimes it's better to show rather than tell."

He extends the box toward her. The fabric from his mittens only producing a sound similar to that of markers,scribbling upon a blank sheet of paper. The blond boy isn’t leaving or moving from this spot until the stranger takes them. The guys promised to pay him for this. Besides, he needed a couple of bucks for a game he had been saving up for.

{✞} "You must think I'm a real idiot," Carrie said, taking the container. "What is it, then? Mayonnaise? You have to be more creative."  {✞} This was what happened when you were bullied from the day you were born. Carrie didn't trust anyone--except for Mama. The kids at school had done it all--twice. Kick-me notes, Oreos filled with tooth paste, wads of freshly chewed gum stuck right where she couldn't see, freshly chewed gum stuck in her hair, stolen clothes after gym class, surprise haircuts and beatings.                                                                 {✞} This kid was an amateur. {✞} "Can I ask you something? You're a big boy aren't you?" she asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "Who the hell gave you the right to torment me? Ever think that maybe, just maybe, there was someone having a rough time? Of course you didn't. You're just a snot-nosed kid in need of a darn laugh." {✞} Carrie no longer had any patience for children--or anyone.  'Treat others the same way you want them to treat you.' Luke 6:31. It was a simple concept, was it not? Be kind to one another. {✞} But no one had ever been kind to Carrie. So why be nice to this little brat?

"Gosh, no, ‘course not. Just… I saw you doing something over there. I dunno, must’ve been my imagination. Pencils don’t float, after all."

{✞} "They certainly don't. Things can't float unless they're in water...you were seeing things."

"Oh, c’mon. That’s a bit weird, isn’t it?"

{✞} "What? What's weird? I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"