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Post by autumn rachel moreau on Jul 8, 2013 15:32:03 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r71/maggiesrpstuff/BACKGROUNDS/fk5qwnjpg.png); width: 457px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30; -moz-border-radius: 35 35 35 35; -webkit-border-radius: 35 35 35 35;]hi » BRIGHT LIGHTS,
Autumn woke with a start. Eyes wide, panicked. The sound of her heaving lungs was the only thing that filled the silence in her dorm, and had her dorm always been this goddamn freezing? Half asleep, her nightmare still had its grip on her - somewhere in her mind, another crack of a leather belt split the silence in half. She yelped and crossed her arms over her face, guarding herself from the imaginary belt. She whimpered as tears started rolling down her cheeks. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, trying to get a hold of herself. Autumn attempted to whisper soothing words to herself, but nothing worked. She felt absolutely hollow inside, empty, as if someone had taken everything out of her except for her lungs and her heart. And her heart - it was beating so fast, so loud, it was drumming in her ears.
Searching for her favorite stuffed animal, [an owl named Doctor Hoot], she accidentally knocked over a hard covered book which promptly made another sharp slapping noise when it hit the floor. Autumn let out another yelp, louder than the last, then crumpled onto the floor. After a moment or two, she found the Doctor and her cellphone. She thought about calling Des in a desperate attempt to feel something other than this terror that was slowly consuming her, but when she checked the time it was 11:30 pm. He was probably sleeping or working and she really shouldn't bother him for something so trivial. She threw her phone across the room, which was a bad idea in hindsight because the noise it made startled Autumn yet again. This time she didn't make a noise [from previous experience, she knew making noises didn't help - no one was coming to help her], she instead curled up on the floor, Hoot in her arms, and laid there crying.
What scared her the most was the cold dorm floor, the darkness of the room, and the silence. She couldn't even hear herself cry. The fact is that she had stopped trying to call out for help ages ago, because her mother wasn't coming to save her. Her mother would hide away whenever things got ugly, and no matter how many times little Autumn cried out for help, she didn't come. So Autumn learned to give up, because what was the point of crying out? No one was listening anyway. And the darkness didn't help. She couldn't see much at all, not through her blurry, broken vision. And she just felt so alone, so cold, and the emptiness filled her body. She needed something, she needed to feel something, but she had forgotten where she'd placed her blade. She slowly sat up. Her tears had slowed and she decided she needed to get out of the dorm and take a walk. Autumn decided that she needed to get out of the darkness and away from that goddamned bed and nightmares and sleep.
Autumn threw on her boots [she had fallen asleep in her jeans and teeshirt because she had just gotten back from a long musical rehearsal], and ran out the door. She walked aimlessly in the area of her dorm, rubbing her arms that were stinging from imaginary whips. Autumn finally settled in the playground a block or two away from the dorm. She sat on the bottom of the slide, hugging her knees that were tucked up to her chest. She remembered when her parents actually loved her and they would take her to the nearby playground. They would push her on the swing and attempt to make sand castles in the sandbox after it had rained. She remembered laying on her back and listening to her mother speak French to her as they looked up at the clouds. They would laugh at the different clouds and the shapes that they would take. And when Autumn got tired, they would give her a piggyback ride back to their home.
But somewhere along the way, all of that changed. And things just went downhill from there. And eventually she ended up here. Autumn began crying again at the thought of her happy memories, because where the fuck had all of the time gone? How the fuck did it get that bad? And how on earth did she get this fucked up? She whimpered again, tears in her eyes again, and she buried her face into her arms. She needed to forget all of this, she needed to remember something else, like the time she met Des, or Skandar or… It didn't matter. Her nightmares had set into her mind and her thoughts had already filled her head. There wasn't really room for much else. So Autumn sat at the very bottom of the slide, whimpering and crying, and hoping it would all go away.
AND CITYSCAPES. words; 814 tagged; #stella #bella notes; a bit shorter than i wanted, but it'll do. OUTFIT |
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Post by stellaluna soto on Jul 9, 2013 2:34:16 GMT -5
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oh well, oh well
stellaluna had had better nights.
the twenty-six-year-old had gotten what felt like seventeen minutes, maybe an hour at most, of sleep in the past week she'd been dead, and she could just tell that it was only gonna get worse from here on out, at least for now. the past few nights, in fact, she'd just given up on sleep altogether, letting insomnia take the best of her to suffer the consequential aftermath the following morning. and tonight was no exception. tonight, stell was parked at the window installed next to her bed, staring blankly at the playground her studio apartment overlooked with a thick mug of peppermint tea in hand. she'd been standing there for quite a while, long enough that the genie had forgotten how long it had been since she'd last taken a sip from her mug, much less when she'd started standing here in the first place. she wasn't even sure what time it was; of course, she hadn't been since she'd gotten here. call it an act of defiance, call it whatever you wanted--stella herself wasn't too sure--but she just figured that there wasn't any point to time, really, not here. not in the land where your time was all used up.
was death supposed to make this big of an impact? obviously it wasn't just something stellaluna was supposed to get over in a night; no one had the right to expect that from her. but when the hazel-eyed brunette looked around at all her fellow deceased, she couldn't help but notice nothing but how… comfortable, if not completely okay they were with being here. and meanwhile, here she was slowly losing each and every piece of herself she'd put so many years into building up and strengthening. the whole thing was so unlike her. her whole life she'd spent striving to be nothing even just a little bit short of the absolute best she could be, and then some. and now, it was just like she didn't even care. twenty-six years of hard work, down the tubes.
but maybe she really didn't care. the only reason she'd worked so hard down on earth was because she had a future to work toward. she had dreams, plans, even a goddamn bucket list she kept on an asymmetrical piece of paper torn from a composition notebook, taped to the back of her closet door. she definitely didn't have it all, but she had all she really needed--time. and, above all, she had her little boy. if there was one thing that kept her going, it was sito. he was literally her everything. he was her miniature version of prince charming, as she liked to say. he was her best friend. her smile. her inspiration. her entire life.
and now he was gone from her, for god knew how long? so now what? this was what had been keeping her awake the past week, the deep and immeasurable emptiness she felt at the thought of not ever again seeing her beautiful baby. she didn't want to think about it, not at all, but there was nothing else she could think about. she didn't want to forget about him; she didn't want to adjust to here. she wanted to be back down on earth, with luisito, where she belonged, where they both belonged. he was only seven. he needed his mother. his mother needed him. this wasn't the way things were supposed to be, she knew it. how could they? what kind of twisted force would actually want for this to happen? this had to be a sick dream.
a shock of orange-red movement jarred stella from her daze; sure, she had no idea what time it was, but it didn't take a genius to realize it was pretty late. what was anyone else doing up? the genie sloppily rubbed sleep from one eye while staring hard out the window with the other, trying to make a shape out of whatever it was that was crouched down now by what looked like a slide. she stepped closer to the glass, pressing her face up against the cool pane--it was something like winter in the dirge right now, in july, as if it wasn't messed up enough up here--before deciding that watching half-asleep from the seventh floor wasn't very well about to do her much good. she really wasn't sure why she cared so much, but it was probably the most emotion she'd felt this whole time--she wasn't gonna let it go. she moved to grab her uggs and thick north face, dumping the rest of her tea in the sink as she went.
the playground was around six minutes away from the doorway of the apartment building, and by the time stellaluna had cleared that, the orange-red still hadn't moved. upon closer inspection, it seemed that she was looking at the auburn locks of a girl balled up at the very bottom of one of the park's three slides. and she was crying. stella's brow furrowed. this wasn't all that much what she wanted to get herself involved in at this late at night, but she'd made it this far. what would the point be of going home now? besides, there was no doubt the girl had seen her, too. it would be rude of her to just leave. so, she stepped forward, into a beam of moonlight that turned her skin an illuminated navy blue. "hey," she called out, her voice raspy and unfamiliar from days of neglect. she stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and cleared her throat. "hey," again. had she even drank at all since her death? she literally couldn't remember a thing from the past seven-some days. the only proof of time passing at all was the twenty-six-year-old's steadily growing exhaustion. she raised her chin a bit, allowing the july-winter wind to bite at her in an attempt to wake up, if only for the moment. "what's the matter?"
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Post by autumn rachel moreau on Jul 17, 2013 21:27:20 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r71/maggiesrpstuff/BACKGROUNDS/fk5qwnjpg.png); width: 457px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30; -moz-border-radius: 35 35 35 35; -webkit-border-radius: 35 35 35 35;]hi » BRIGHT LIGHTS,
Autumn, in a blur of tears and panic, didn't notice a woman had approached her. "Hey," a slightly raspy voice called out, and Autumn jumped. She didn't make a noise, but she did glace up for a second. The woman cleared her throat and stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Hey," the stranger repeated. Autumn decided it assume that the stranger was trying to reach out to her, and that it was better to attempt to look normal. Or something along those lines. She was far from normal. Autumn wiped her tears with the back of her hands, and made a feeble attempt to clean up her tear stained cheeks. Saying that she looked disheveled was an understatement.
Autumn tried her best to smile, but it was weak, and it fell from her face rather quickly. "Hello," came a timid voice that Autumn wasn't familiar with. Normally, she'd be confident - she would enthusiastically greet the woman, offer a hand to shake - but instead, Autumn felt shy for the first time in a very long time. All of her work as an actor on stage didn't let her be shy. But now, she felt like a small child looking for her parents. And to add to the issue, Autumn didn't trust easily when she was in this state. Because it was in this sate that Autumn was being hurt by the people she thought loved and cared for her. It was uncharacteristic, but Autumn couldn't let herself trust anyone. Not when she couldn't even trust her own parents. If she couldn't trust the people that were supposed to care for her, how could she even begin to trust others? She had always been careful when picking her friends, she had always been careful as to who she told things to. She needed to be careful. If Autumn wasn't careful, she wasn't safe.
"What's the matter?" the woman asked. Normally, this would be the time that Autumn would perk up, smile, laugh it off and say "Nothing at all, I'm just being silly". But it was late at night. No one was around. And Autumn felt so incredibly lonely. Yet something inside of her still tried to raise its defenses, still tried to laugh it off. And Autumn really did try to laugh it off, but the noise that came out of her wasn't a laugh; it was more of a sob. And a few more tears ran down her face, because she was so pathetic. She wasn't as strong as she used to be. And she hated that. She put her face into her hands for a few moments, before wiping her face again. She lifted a shaky hand to push her hair out of her face. "Hey, I ah, I um..." she paused again before attempting to speak. She didn't know what to say. What was wrong? What was bothering her so much? "I don't know, actually," she laughed and more tears streamed down her face, "I'm broken, I think."
Broken. Hank Green, someone Autumn loved quite dearly (he helped her get through some of the roughest days), once said "We are differently broken, semi-functional, rusted-out love machines". Autumn loved that quote. Because despite everything, she still found in somewhere in her heart to love. And she wasn't really properly functional, yet still something kept her going. And that quote also made her think about humans. How did you break a human? Sure, there was the physical aspect that Autumn knew all too well, but how did you break the human spirit? It was near impossible, but sometimes your limits get pushed. A bit too far. And the fact that you could break a human, almost suggested the fact that you could possibly fix a human. And that was the part that intrigued Autumn. Could she really be fixed? She desperately wanted to believe that she could be fixed. That even after all of the shit that she had gone through, she still had the potential to be fixed. That maybe humans were machines, that somehow, all of the parts could be mended. What a lovely thought. What a hopeful thought.
AND CITYSCAPES. words; 711 tagged; #stella #bella notes; okay not my best OUTFIT |
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