Category Archives: Art

Character Development: Derek

What he throws away:

lyrics on crumpled paper, thoughts, flyers for events he’s gone to already, abstract concepts, his own internal crazy things that weren’t quite up to par, lists.

A paragraph(ish) hopefully in Derek’s voice:

“…After the movie, we went to this place called Joe’s pizza.  Just a couple other places after that.  It was great to see him.  You really should write something.  Besides, all my work stinks anyway.  Ha.

Another few sentences:  (really in Derek’s voice this time)

“Work stinks anyway.  Since you’re free, why don’t ya come over?  I’d tell you all ’bout that trip to Six Flags if you want.”

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Sweet Nothings (the products of some random writing exercises)

She strolled through the hallway, hair tied up tight in a bun, movements calculated and cold.  I shrunk into the book I had on my lap, but to no avail: she still spotted me.

“Hey,” she said.

I looked up as though I hadn’t seen her.  “Oh.  Hi,” I responded.

“I was looking for you,” she said as she put a hand on her hip, and gave some imitation of a smile.

“Really?  Why?” I raised my eyebrows innocently.

———————————————————————————

I sat down to the desk with my cheap gas station coffee.  Couldn’t afford the expensive stuff now.   I grimaced at it’s taste and my idiocy.  I pulled a pen from the jar, and opened my notebook to tear out a sheet of paper.

“Hey Jillian,” I began.

My heart skipped a beat and I couldn’t even imagine her face when she read the letter.

“How are you and Cera?  I have something to tell you…”

———————————————————————————

She heaves a cart behind her, stacked with disorderly disks.  I glance at her face and she turns away, focused on something not here and now.  It’s quiet in the library today.  She’s one of the only people here.

Her movements are measured, almost mechanical.   Soon her cart of media shrinks to something nonexistent, and she paces back to the room, emerging not a minute later.  Her eyelids flutter and her eyebrows crease as she turns to pick up one disk that she dropped.  She mutters under her breath and then goes back to shelving.  Putting back.  Setting right, and making order out of nonsense.

She drops another one, and I hear a half formed curse whispered in the near-silence.

I bend to pick up the DVD for her.  It’s not a weird thing to do because I’m sitting at a table a couple feet away.  “Here,” I say and hold it out to her.

She looks at the encased disk in my hand, uncomprehending for half a second before her surroundings bring her back to reality.  For just a moment when I look into her eyes,  I see the turmoil brewing inside her.   When her expression softens, it disappears.

“Thanks,” she says, and takes it back with a little smile.

———————————————————————————

 

French Révolution: Poetry

Henry_Singleton_the_Storming_of_the_Bastille
(Henry Singleton) Storming of the Bastille

Carpe diem!  Today, we strike!

Cheers fill the streets so violently

as a smile fills my bloodstained face.

Revolution!

Waving the flag around

rush through the air as we

storm the tower

and reclaim what is ours.

Peace! Finality! Bread!

Storm the tower,

no wound too strong,

keep fighting!

Fight!

Fight for your freedom,

friends!

Dying around me,

bodies fill the streets and blood rushes through the

gutters.

Imagine!

Freed from poverty and famine!

Storm the Bastille,

and start to rid us of that bane that is

the royalty!

Abolish

those three estates!

And let the blood that flows in the gutter

be no longer of the sans-culottes,

but of those who have wronged and

controlled us for too long!

Liberté!

Égalité!

Fraternité!

Révolution!

Sorry if I offended anyone/got anything historically wrong/etc….  To the best of my knowledge, it’s right. haha

Let me know what you think! ^.^

To lay it out plainly, I wrote this.  Don’t steal it.  <3  Give me credit if you use it…  Et cetera.

À bientôt!

~Mouse c;

A little free verse inspired by the sudden sharp September winds.

In summer,
those blistering days…
Nothing seems further
Than a rainy day,
cold and wet.
When in fact, it’s truly
the closest thing.

~Mouse. ❤❤ (:

The Birth Of Destruction: 8 & 9

Therapy

At some point over junior year, after one of the many phone conversations where he’d call me a name and turn off his phone, my mom realized what was going on. She tried to keep me from him and I protested, telling her I loved him and wanted to be with him forever.

After one particularly bad fight, he came into school acting as though he couldn’t see or hear me. I spent all of first period in the guidance counselors office bawling my eyes out. I couldn’t stop crying long enough to tell them what was wrong so they just let me cry it out and sent me off when the bell rang for second period.

I saw him in the hallway and tried to get his attention. He just kept walking, staring straight ahead with a stupid smirk on his face. I hated him and wanted to hurt him so I did. I shoved him against a locker and smacked him across the face, knocking his glasses clear across the hallway. He laughed and called me a pathetic stalker, which sent me into another bout of crying. A teacher found us there and led me back to the very office I’d just left.

I confessed to slapping him, told them why I did it and everything. I didn’t get suspended, but they did call my mom and she took me out of school for the rest of the day. She didn’t head for home and when asked, just told me we were going for a drive. She ended up taking me to the hospital for a psychological evaluation.

They wanted to admit me to the hospital but I refused. I didn’t want people poking and prodding me for information. Plus, how embarrassing would that be to tell friends and co-workers?

We decided that I’d have therapy once a week to talk to someone. I refused to talk at first, insisting that I didn’t need therapy. I was put on Prozac and, once mom found my razor blades, they were confiscated. I still struggled with that though, I’d grown accustomed to the feeling of the blade cutting my skin. I liked to see my blood. I started using regular shaving razors, until they too were taken, and I could only shave while my mom was in the room with me.

In the past year and a half, I was more so a shell of myself. It wasn’t solely Caleb’s fault, but he was a big part of it. In middle school, I used to tell people, “Oh, I’m so depressed!” thinking that I never really would be. And now I was to the point that people thought I should be admitted.

The Prozac helped for a while. I wish they had a pill to stop people from doing stupid things, then I would never have ended up in the position I’d put myself in a year later.

“Oral Sex”

Caleb and I made it a habit of staying after school together, waiting for Connor to get off of work so we could all go hang out at a new arcade that had just opened up. It was usually the 3 of us, occasionally joined by whatever girl Connor was dating that week.

On this particular day, we were sitting in the back of the main lobby with my legs up over his. Does that make sense? How the guy sits right and the girl sits sideways with her legs over his. Whatever they call that, that’s how we were sitting.

The janitor was an old hag, and she told us that we were talking too loud and to quiet down. He called her a name, which she heard so she told us to get out of the school, and even escorted us to the doors. She told us not to come back inside that day or we’d be sorry. I told her I had to go back in because I was waiting for the choir instructor to get done with musical practice because I needed to talk to him. She told me no.

Caleb told me to wait until she left the lobby then go back in and wait in the choir room for the teacher. I probably shouldn’t have listened but I went in anyways while he waited outside for Connor. What I didn’t know was that he planned to sneak back in a few minutes after me. The janitor saw him and went to get the principal. I’d just seen him and started talking to him when they found us and took us to the office.

They separated us and I asked why they took us to the office. They told me nothing until my mom got there. Apparently the janitor told the principal that we were having oral sex when she’d kicked us out. I barely knew what oral sex was, and was disgusted by it, which I told them immediately. I called the janitor a liar. We were suspended for 3 days, which shouldn’t have happened because it was after school hours, not to mention that nothing happened!

We went back for a meeting after the 3 days and the principal then revealed that the janitor admitted she was wrong. The principal had to explain to her what oral sex was and she was quick to say that wasn’t what she saw. When she explained it again, her story matched the one I’d tried to tell my mom and the principal in the first place.

My mom thought I deserved the suspension anyways but Caleb’s parents fought the school on it. They won, causing both the janitor and principal to lose their jobs. I wasn’t sorry to see them go. I knew I’d done nothing wrong and was very upset I’d suffered 3 days suspension for something I was so dead set against.

These were the eighth and nineth chapters of a true story by Bree Houseman on figment.com.  Names were changed to protect privacy.

Please help us spread the word!

http://figment.com/books/760038

Thanks so much,

~Mouse and Bree

Collection Of Thoughts

Well, #thelinesproject started today.  One Line In Sharpie!  It ends on the 20th, on which we will have a total of 6 lines drawn.

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA  Yup.  I wrote a little bit of lyricism last night for The Lines Project, self harm awareness, and just in general.  Sorry it’s emo……

Press the blade to my skin/ Already sliced/ It’s so thin/ I slide it along, feeling cold like ice/ Red rushes to greet me/ It’s bloody bathwater/ Blood is what anyone sees/ Yes, I’m someone’s daughter/ Sister and friend/ But so many want me gone/ For life to end/ I admit, they’ve won/

~

Why?/ Past yelling, I tried./ Lying here on the floor/ I kicked down my own doors/ I’m seeing in flashes/ Oh, ashes and ashes/ Burned it down/ Leave me alone/

~

Reaching for the blade/ These voices in my head/ Pure Hate/ Weighing me down like lead/ Cut, cut them away/ My demons/ They haunt me this way/ Doesn’t matter the season/ Quick, don’t even blink!/ Living hell/ I’ll overthink./

~

Other than that, I’ve been taking lots of pictures lately. :P

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This is all…  :3

;)~Mouse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hello peoplez!

Just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving with this terribly drawn turkey.  :D

tg

 

 

 

 

 

 

;)~Mouse