[Fiction] Dear you -- [Short Story]

[BlitzMundane]

This is how I'm occupying my time... After reading a few select peices of literature, such as "A Rose for Emily" by William Faulkner and "The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe, my mind is filled with really... creepy thoughts. But it's fun, nonetheless. Hope you enjoy. ^_^

By the way, it's not a story about TorD, which makes me nervous. I looked around the forum and found depp saying that if I'm writing a story that's about something else other than TorD, then I need to post it on KinkTalk. But I'm too young for KinkTalk.

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Dear you;

Look at you; a tattered mess, lying on the floor. What have you become? Your clothes are scattered around the room, your limbs lay, splayed out in every direction. Your eyes stare vacantly off into the distance, as if you’re looking, but not really seeing the world. How dare you? How dare you taunt me with your arrogant existence?

Your mouth hangs open like a blow-up doll, waiting for the next customer. And that’s what you’ve reduced yourself to, isn’t it? A man’s best friend, but only when he’s in search of company (of the darkest kind). You didn’t choose this life, but you certainly didn’t back out of it, either.

Your arms show faded scars of depressions past; the pale lines write letters on your arms, attempting to spell out the pain that you’ve supposed felt. You felt no pain throughout your life. You enjoyed every minute of it. You whore.

Your breasts, once plump and full of life, now fall hopelessly. That which had brought joy to so many suitors had now brought only grief to you. How does it make you feel? You used to flaunt your body, but now you must hide it. It is an ugly, decrepit thing. Hide your shame, girl. No one wants to see you.

But it is only me in the room, and I will not cover you. You left yourself like that – a dirty, ridiculing mess – and I’ve finished cleaning up your messes. Take responsibility and solve your own problems for once.

You won’t stop staring at that bug in the corner, so I’ll move your face away from it. The poor thing doesn’t want to see your tired, graying eyes. Hide your shame, girl. No one wants to see you.

The room is growing cold as the warmth of pleasure peaks fade. The sun, hidden behind a dirty window, is slowly dropping behind the city skyline. The sky turns from a dull, murky orange to a dull, murky purple. The shadows – stretched far by the receding sun not long ago – now mixes with the natural darkness of the small room. But I doubt you mind the chilling blackness that surrounds us, seeing as that’s all the company you’ll be keeping for a while. Hide your shame, girl. No one wants to see you.

As the day fades, I can’t help but be reminded of us. Do you remember us? There was an “us”, I think. It was short, but it was alive. It pulsed with momentary happiness – all too fleeting – and made us reminisce of past-life love affairs. There was an “us”, but just like those transitory feelings of completeness, we must move on. Yes, our “us” was nice while it lasted – possibly the best “us” you’ve enjoyed, though I can’t say the same for myself – but we can’t let this get in the way of our life. We both still have days to feel, nights to breath. I think we all understand that “us” just gets in the way. Don’t you agree?

Why don’t we make a deal? We both pledge to move on with our lives; choose separate paths, leave through different exits. We continue on with our goals and ambitions. However, this doesn’t mean that we must forget each other. I will still remember you fondly, and the “us” we shared. Even years down the road, when I’ve become successful and happy, and you’re still in this same spot, I’ll remember you and smile, thinking, “Yes! That was her, the girl who I shared a moment with.”

Oh, now, don’t let your smile fall. Hold that chin up – as best you can, as your neck seems to be quite weak – and look to the stars! The beautiful, ever-changing stars, that sparkle through polluted air and seem to be continuously threatened by smothering smog; they, like yourself, must carry on.

Together, we can move on with our lives, alone. Though, honestly, my solitude will be fuller than yours. But, who can help this? I’m leaving, and you – well, you’re dead.


Sincerely and forever yours,

Me

[DHK-eh]

That was... good. Very good, great actually. It's certainly different in the best way. I can't really have a more deep reaction to it because I don't think such a comment could accuratly discribe the feeling I got from this or do it justice.

[BlitzMundane]

Originally Posted by DHK-eh

That was... good. Very good, great actually. It's certainly different in the best way. I can't really have a more deep reaction to it because I don't think such a comment could accuratly discribe the feeling I got from this or do it justice.

Thank you! Thank you, so much. I thought that you might be one to enjoy it, given your taste for odd, thought-provoking stories. I'm glad I could entertain you, momentarily. ^_^

[ace1991]

If this were written about something more socially acceptable, I reckon it would be in line to win a prize. Amazing writing.

[BlitzMundane]

Edgar Allen Poe won plenty of awards for his works, and I doubt they were "socially acceptible".

[rchard2scout]

This really could be classified as good literature. I think it's fantastic!

[BlitzMundane]

Originally Posted by rchard2scout

This really could be classified as good literature. I think it's fantastic!

Thank you! "Good" is what I strive for!