Status: something to help the writer's block
The Irony is That This Cell Phone Has Gone Through Dante's Inferno and Back and Still Looks Better Than You
In Which All Things Must End and Not Everything Is Beautiful
She’d had a strange fascination with death ever since she was seven and watched her dog get hit by a car driving entirely too fast down a street with a WARNING: CHILDREN sign.
Now, it seemed kind of cruel. She used to think death was beautiful. She was infatuated with the peace it seemed to represent, the idea that there was bliss waiting for everyone somewhere tasted like drops of honey on her tongue.
Things were different when she stood in front of the casket. The third casket in sixth months. Before, death was abstract. Death wasn’t real. Death didn’t happen to the people she loved.
She didn’t cause it.
It was at age twenty-five that she learned the world was not a beautiful place, and that peace was not promised.
Now, it seemed kind of cruel. She used to think death was beautiful. She was infatuated with the peace it seemed to represent, the idea that there was bliss waiting for everyone somewhere tasted like drops of honey on her tongue.
Things were different when she stood in front of the casket. The third casket in sixth months. Before, death was abstract. Death wasn’t real. Death didn’t happen to the people she loved.
She didn’t cause it.
It was at age twenty-five that she learned the world was not a beautiful place, and that peace was not promised.
♠ ♠ ♠
I got boredwill this have a plot? who knows.
does anyone want to read this? who knows.
What I do know is that I have a lot of time to kill during study hall and these are short and easy.