Status: In Progress
The Short Life of Calico Flynn
Time Escapes Me
|One year and three months later.|
I always hated winter. Even as a kid I would stare at the snow from the warmth of my house with a bitter distaste. Lucky for me, my so called friends would force me out into the freezing cold white shit to play around. Their definition of playing was making snow angels and having snow ball fights. Their definition was equivalent to my idea of suffering and freezing my ass off.
I was a weird kid. Not the sit-in-the-corner-and-play-with-dead-bugs-kinda-weird, but weird in the sense I couldn't relate to kids my age. I just thought more in depth and pondered on things even adults sometimes questioned. My dad always told me that I was 'too smart for my own good.' Obviously now since I'm dead, I wasn't very fucking smart. Then again, maybe it was my intelligence that killed me.
It was Thanksgiving break, and I was sitting on my front porch smoking a cigarette. My parents were out on some stupid date thing, so I had the house to myself. Max, Jack, and some kid named Garrett were inside doing who the fuck knows what. I cared, and at the same time I didn't. In the past fifteen months I had changed, but not dramatically. My social network had expanded and going to parties didn't bother me, it was usually who was there that did. Breathing out the last bits of smoke I crushed the cigarette bud on the bottom of my shoe and tossed it in the naked rose bushes. I would clean it up later; if my parents saw they would have a goddamn cow.
In the kitchen I sipped slowly at a beer. Max and Jack were calling people trying to get weed, and Garrett was laying on floor by the stove eating a cheese sandwich. I knew he was completely wasted because I had watched him drink half a bottle of vodka. It was nasty, honestly. I hated vodka. After puking in a bathtub at Max's house I didn't go near the stuff.
"Where'd you find this guy anyway?" I asked, nudging Garrett's leg with my foot. He mumbled something and proceeded to dismember his sandwich and cover his face with the pieces. What a fucking hambone. Jack merely shrugged his shoulders and chugged the last of his beer.
"I told you man, he's my second cousin or something. He's staying with me."
Oh, right. I had forgotten. Jack had so many damn relatives. They were like fucking hamsters or some shit. Sitting on the kitchen table I poked Max's forehead.
"What's the plan maaaaaan."
"Don't touch me drunkie."
"Ru-ude. Whatever. I'm gonna grab some shit then we can go."
I stumbled up the stairs and into my bedroom. It looked like your average teenage boy's room. Clothes everywhere, band posters plastering the walls, and a gaming system set up in the corner. I did have a bookcase filled with novels and poetry. I had neglected it in recent years and the film of dust was obvious. I took a moment to sit on my bed, a wave of vertigo swimming through my veins.
Everything had changed so much. I had a feeling they were going to continue to change. I could still remember her eyes; warm and gray.
Sophie...
I always hated winter. Even as a kid I would stare at the snow from the warmth of my house with a bitter distaste. Lucky for me, my so called friends would force me out into the freezing cold white shit to play around. Their definition of playing was making snow angels and having snow ball fights. Their definition was equivalent to my idea of suffering and freezing my ass off.
I was a weird kid. Not the sit-in-the-corner-and-play-with-dead-bugs-kinda-weird, but weird in the sense I couldn't relate to kids my age. I just thought more in depth and pondered on things even adults sometimes questioned. My dad always told me that I was 'too smart for my own good.' Obviously now since I'm dead, I wasn't very fucking smart. Then again, maybe it was my intelligence that killed me.
It was Thanksgiving break, and I was sitting on my front porch smoking a cigarette. My parents were out on some stupid date thing, so I had the house to myself. Max, Jack, and some kid named Garrett were inside doing who the fuck knows what. I cared, and at the same time I didn't. In the past fifteen months I had changed, but not dramatically. My social network had expanded and going to parties didn't bother me, it was usually who was there that did. Breathing out the last bits of smoke I crushed the cigarette bud on the bottom of my shoe and tossed it in the naked rose bushes. I would clean it up later; if my parents saw they would have a goddamn cow.
In the kitchen I sipped slowly at a beer. Max and Jack were calling people trying to get weed, and Garrett was laying on floor by the stove eating a cheese sandwich. I knew he was completely wasted because I had watched him drink half a bottle of vodka. It was nasty, honestly. I hated vodka. After puking in a bathtub at Max's house I didn't go near the stuff.
"Where'd you find this guy anyway?" I asked, nudging Garrett's leg with my foot. He mumbled something and proceeded to dismember his sandwich and cover his face with the pieces. What a fucking hambone. Jack merely shrugged his shoulders and chugged the last of his beer.
"I told you man, he's my second cousin or something. He's staying with me."
Oh, right. I had forgotten. Jack had so many damn relatives. They were like fucking hamsters or some shit. Sitting on the kitchen table I poked Max's forehead.
"What's the plan maaaaaan."
"Don't touch me drunkie."
"Ru-ude. Whatever. I'm gonna grab some shit then we can go."
I stumbled up the stairs and into my bedroom. It looked like your average teenage boy's room. Clothes everywhere, band posters plastering the walls, and a gaming system set up in the corner. I did have a bookcase filled with novels and poetry. I had neglected it in recent years and the film of dust was obvious. I took a moment to sit on my bed, a wave of vertigo swimming through my veins.
Everything had changed so much. I had a feeling they were going to continue to change. I could still remember her eyes; warm and gray.
Sophie...