orangestrings

Nine's emerald eyes shimmered. And not in a good way. In fact, she could hardly see through her tears, which had now spilt over the rim and were flowing with ferocity down her cheeks. She watched as the image of the curly haired boy blurred and grew smaller and smaller as he moved into the distance. He said he wouldn't leave. He made promises. THEY made promises. Topped with special promise methods of course, which involved much clicking and twining of fingers. And kisses. He promised they would be together and he would protect her and give her hugs everyday for the rest of their lives. Nine was reminded of her hate for absolutes. Always. N

It was by the lake that she met him that day. That day, just another ordinary day filled with daydreams… Nine had been floating on her back, face to the sky when the rustle of leaves told her someone was walking along the bank. His name was Kaleb. Small and dark and with that mischievous twinkle everyone always likes to use to describe little boys. She vaguely remembered him from one class or another at school. He had said that he was looking for someone, asked her if she had seen anyone else around. But instead of continuing on his way when she shook her head, no, he dived in to join her. Oh that fateful day. If only he hadn't known

Dam Bridget never understood what was with the girl. Why she would always put on a smile and then go about breaking mirrors and bones when she wasn't looking. She wondered why the teachers always complained she spoke too much and socialized too much and laughed too much (laughed too much? Really now, could anyone really?) with her scary number of cliques and friends, when at the end of the day she didn't see anyone else besides herself comforting Nine (albeit unsuccessfully) when the girl seemed to bleed for the world and more. She knew the girl was popular amongst classmates and definitely loved her friends with a passion. Countless times,

The mirror stared back at her with hateful eyes. It was always that mean girl making her cry. Sometimes, Nine wondered why she bothered looking to her at all, when she only got criticism out of it. "It's always the same old thing," Nine thought. "Not good enough for this, not good enough for that." "Well, I'm thoroughly sick of it!" She swung her hairbrush, held loosely in her hand, towards the dresser, and the girl splintered with a satisfying crash. Nine buried her face in her hands. The girl was still there anyway wasn't she. From the other side of the house, Dam Bridget lets out a sigh.

Now, one day, (after school hours of course) (or then again, why is it an of course??), Nine visits Cottage and gets it into her head to climb up it's tattered branches to see what she may find at the top. She climbs up and trusts that Cottage would take care of her like old grandmother willow. Cottage is dear, after all. She's as dear to it as surely as it is dear to her. Cottage wouldn't let her fall. She makes it past the first few branches, growing with confidence for Cottage's sturdy branches to keep her up. She settles amongst the branches for awhile, to catch her breath. Nine looks around and nods to herself, just this little bit high

She turned and ran. Pushing herself faster and faster. The ground a blur beneath her. Nine dared not look down. Images of herself tripping and soaring into the air drifted lazily through her mind, as lazy as a sunday afternoon. "Not bad an idea," she thought to herself, temporarily distracted. (Why was it her thoughts could drift in such a manner when her heart was about to burst from the extra pumping and rushing of blood?) People always said physical pain acted as good 'protection' against the emotional, mental types. She never believed them. It seemed like a pretty good time to try it though. To try anything, really. Temporary distractio

Nine stared. In front of her, a book filled with beautiful moments, captured, frozen in time. A compilation of photographs. Titled; Dance. Men and women alike, prancing across the stage with majestic leaps and twirls. Heads high, poised. Limbs stretched, reaching. Smiles radiating from their faces. Arms held softly. Graceful, yet powerful. Admiring them, the wonderful pictures they make. Nine felt the stirring of emotions within her. My, what beauty they display! A yearning, to be able to look as they do, move as they do, be as they are. To feel like nothing else matters but the music, the stage, and the audience. To feel the rush they mu

Once upon a time, there is a girl named Nine. Nine is small for her age, (which is not nine), and rather pale for a girl who spends all her time outdoors. Her long brown hair falls to her waist like a waterfall. It is as light as a feather (As cliche as it may sound), and is shaped by the wind. She has green eyes that can't decide which shade of green they wish to be, fringed by long enough lashes to seduce a camel. Other than that, she is really quite ordinary. Nine is a quiet girl. It was not that she doesn't have much to say, more of, a lack of someone to say anything to. Her parents would listen to her if they could, but both are alrea

The crew has abandoned ship for sleep always and forever even when the ship is sinking the holes in the foundations of the building collapsing inwards The crew doesn't care. No none of them because why why (sleep is important of course) why why see they're all butterflies, or dragonflies see they're not attached all that tightly are they they can just fly away when things get too soggy and the crumbs gets in their shirts and make them uncomfortable. Sounds almost romantic. So you need to look and think and think think think how it's like for these flies who buzz and buzz and buzz. They like you don't they. Yes now, y