Status: take what you want from this story. the characters are for you to decide who is who.
Human After All
even scaled up or down to size, you are still a hideous person
She felt like the sixteenth most watched person in the universe, God knows who the first fifteen were, but she pitied them to death. It was like everyone was leaning over the railing just to get a glimpse of her, but not in a good way. They wanted to see her toes grow into snails and they wanted her to turn pale enough to become the wind. They begged for the chance to see her hair turn into willow tree branches.
Someone saw the hair on her body become sharp points and where a heart should of been, an elf owl nested. She was the cactus her mother killed to plant the sunflower garden that she claimed hers. She was the ghost of a tree and all She thought was: I didn't know trees had ghosts, too.
She became a dandelion stealing her mother's Miracle Grow from the sunflower garden and she hated the Sun became it made my leaves wilt, but the sunflowers blocked it out and left just the right amount. She was a weed, but still a flower.
She woke up and decided that she needed to stop reading books about elves and nymphs. It was time to quit watching Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel. I should be watching the Channel 4 News instead.
She dreamed again that night, but this this she was the African Violet he kept on his windowsill in the bedroom. The night sky gave her no sunlight and she shivered (or shivered as best as she could, considering she was a plant). Her tiny pot was cramped and she wished to stretch, but the clay walls offered her no extra room. Then a shape shifted in the bed and she saw herself rise from the bed, just as she had 52 days ago.
She woke up and decided she couldn't stay in the dingy motel room again tomorrow. She had wasted enough time and she longed for a familiar touch against her skin.
Someone saw the hair on her body become sharp points and where a heart should of been, an elf owl nested. She was the cactus her mother killed to plant the sunflower garden that she claimed hers. She was the ghost of a tree and all She thought was: I didn't know trees had ghosts, too.
She became a dandelion stealing her mother's Miracle Grow from the sunflower garden and she hated the Sun became it made my leaves wilt, but the sunflowers blocked it out and left just the right amount. She was a weed, but still a flower.
She woke up and decided that she needed to stop reading books about elves and nymphs. It was time to quit watching Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel. I should be watching the Channel 4 News instead.
She dreamed again that night, but this this she was the African Violet he kept on his windowsill in the bedroom. The night sky gave her no sunlight and she shivered (or shivered as best as she could, considering she was a plant). Her tiny pot was cramped and she wished to stretch, but the clay walls offered her no extra room. Then a shape shifted in the bed and she saw herself rise from the bed, just as she had 52 days ago.
She woke up and decided she couldn't stay in the dingy motel room again tomorrow. She had wasted enough time and she longed for a familiar touch against her skin.