Imperfectedlyric's Stories

Pain

2007-06-11T22:54:23Z

Can you push yourself past the point of pain? I mean, what comes after it, does death come when you can no longer handle agony, does the agony grow stronger until it becomes a part of your body, writhing with your senses?

Does insanity beckon behind the farthest reaches of pain or does it just grow harder?

Is it bad to want pain, your body physically in need of desperate hurt? How do we even know that pain is bad? What if from the beggining of time it had been worshipped as a natural practice instead of infamous for horrid torture. What if pain was psychosamatic? What if it only tortured our insides because we though it did, were tought that it did?

What if pain.. didn’t hurt at all?

Me

2007-06-03T19:11:57Z

Hmmm…. I don’t know what to say I really don’t.. >.< Why should I have to describe myself in a paragraph?
I’m a human being.. can you fit humanity into a paragraph, splashed between the pages of some website?

This

2007-05-30T23:21:46Z

Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.Never Mind.

In The Eye Of The Beholder-2

2007-05-29T23:45:16Z

“Reed.” A half croaked winy voice called from the kitchen.

Reed looked up slowly from where she was pulling at the chair with a frustrated glare and met the eyes of a small girl barely noticeable over the towering ferns and large coffee tables that adorned the apartment.

“Yeah Surry?” Reed managed a welcoming smile.

The little girl came in the living room at the sound of her voice smiling. Her big gray eyes shined as the warm sun hit her delicate features. A grin erupted from a small freckled face. “When’s Breakfast.” Surry managed her innocent smile making Reed loather her even more.

“Soon.”

“When!” Surry called her smile fading into the recesses of her face and replaced with a frown quickly. Not so innocent now.

In The Eye Of The Beholder-1

2007-05-29T23:44:20Z

This is a fanfiction I wrote based on the book Uglies by Scott Westerfeld. It was written a while ago, so the grammar is horrible.
It’s in the past.
_
The air smelled like Smoke. Of course, It was a bit denser than smoke that morning. More like a thick layering fog that clogged the air with its bad smell and thick headache making claustrophobia.

Reed still had to babysit the biggest brat in all of downtown San Francisco. Life sucked, fifteen and still babysitting for some extra gas money, She thought as she leaned back in a heavily padded armchair. She touched the fabric with an obligated sigh and wondered if it was pleather. Reed sighed, she highly doubted the greatest plastic surgeon in all of California would buy pleather.

Pale In Comparison-10

2007-05-29T23:37:45Z

“Miss Mirks so glad you could join us today,” The teacher barely looked up from whatever she was doing on the computer. Her smile was fake, flawed. Her eyes held her true emotions, she hated Isis. Like everyone else in school she declared her a freak.
Isis tried to ignore her deep, spiteful gaze as she sat at her out-dated computer. She was just a teacher. She didn’t matter. The thought stung, it wasn’t just the teachers and students that hated her, Isis couldn’t walk down a street without getting supspicous stares.
Isis leaned back in her chair. The rust bit into her skin and she felt blood clot her shirt. The pain came. It was a dull throbbing ache that didn’t seem to make up for the fact that her life sucked. She let it flow, the cool sureality that pain always brought fell over her. A soft sigh escaped her lips and momentary euphoria came over her.

Pale In Comparison-9

2007-05-29T23:37:18Z

Isis made her way into art. She knew how to vanish. She quietly slid into her seat wincing as the rusty chair pressed into her back. She knew most of their eyes were on her. Picking her apart for everything she was worth. Destroying her. Checking for anything unnatural about her.
Isis tried to ignore it. She let her face wander around the room shifting across every desk. Half of the room seemed empty. Only a few regulars were in the class. None of them working.
That was usual. Hampton wasn’t the best town in southern Florida. Violence and crime was basic. Most kids either got mugged or mugged people. Isis got mugged.
It was a hot, dry town. Where everyone called people by their first names. It was the kind of place they sang country songs about. Unfortunatly, it had long ago fallen to ruins and crime. Most of the townsfolk long ago lost their fortunes and were just trying to get by.

Pale In Comparison-8

2007-05-29T23:36:39Z

Isis allowed herself a momentary smile. She knew they weren’t going to trig. She could remember back to eighth grade when they couldn’t pass her algebra class. They had probably gone to smoke behind the dumpsters.
Her smile was soon replaced by a piteous frown. Why did they have to be so mean? Isis tenderly touched her new black and hair and groaned. She felt a tear staining her porcelain cheek. Being albino sucked. She hated girls like Amby and Tate, with their beautiful, warm skintones and their dark, sunwarmed hair. They seemed to at ease with themselves. Isis could barely walk down the hall without batting a sad pink-eyed smile in the direction of some mocking kids.
They had always picked on her. Isis could remember back to first grade when the teacher had told the class that they were supposed to be extra nice to Isis. Because she was what they had called ‘special’. Because she was different in a world full of regulars.

Pale In Comparison-7

2007-05-29T23:36:02Z

Isis covered her eyes with her hands, “leave me alone!” She screeched at them her voice rising. Her pulse quickened. Her heart was audible in her ears. She could feel her fragile hairstyle coming undone and it pulled at her newly dyed roots.
“Please, just leave me alone,” Isis sobbed dryly.
“Look Mirks, it isn’t our fault you’re such a freak, it isn’t our fault that yoru crack-whore mom ran away. We just happened to be the ones who get the honor of beating up a freak like you,” Amby smiled ruthlessly.
“She’ll probably turn out like one of those serial killer kids who go and shoot up the gym,” Tate snorted with laughter.
“Yeah, and pigs will fly. Cleopatra doesn’t have enough guts to do anything like that,” Amby scowled and gave Isis a kick in the shin that sent her sprawling to her knees.
“Ahh, come on on Amby we have to get to trig,” Tate said checking her watch and pulling Amby down the hall behind her.

Pale In Comparison-6

2007-05-29T23:35:22Z

“What did you say?” Tate repeated slowly, her voice eery. Tate’s voice whispered through each ear like a cool breeze snuggling her in the sound of death.
“I said, here kitty-kitty,” Isis couldn’t believe the words had left her mouth. But, they had. She knew a blow would come now. No one insulted Tate or Amby and got away with it.
Isis bit her lip feeling her teeth sink sharply into it. She felt blood well up. She tasted the salty warmth in her mouth.
She slammed her eyes closed and winced. The suspense was the worst. Why didn’t they just hit her? Isis forced her eyes opened a slit.
They were laughing. She could hear them now. Their soft, melodious giggles echoing through her ears. Like a horses soft whinny their voices penatrated her, calmed her, soothed her.
“You crack me up,” Tate said between hiccuping giggles.
“She thinks she’s cool with those amazing insults,” Isis caught the sarcasm in Amby’s voice.

Pale In Comparison-5

2007-05-29T23:34:53Z

Tate’s shining lip wring caught Isis’s eyes as it was reflected in the soft plastic lights.
She was a tall girl with high cheekbones and cat-like composure. People, in fact, probably would mistake Tate for a cat. Even her posture was erect and focused. She was somewhat pretty, but her eyebrows seemed to be stuck in an always suprised expression on her face.
“Here kitty-kitty,” Isis called quietly, barely audible over the sounds of their insane laughter.
Tate’s laughter stopped dead. Her face slammed into a demonic expression and Isis suddenly regretted speaking. Her hands curled into fists and she seemed to grow another foot taller.
“What did you just say?”
Amby was quite during this time. Obviously not wanting to disturb her leader.
“Nothing.”
“Oh no, darling, I think you said something,” Tate barely whispered leaning in to the corner where Isis stood. Isis could feel her tic-tac flavored breath only millimeters away. Their noses almost touched and Isis waited for the blow to come.

Pale In Comparison-4

2007-05-29T23:34:22Z

Amby’s strawberry-colored hair glinted brightly from the thin overhead lights. Her eyebrows seemed to be stuck to her nose in an everlasting scowl. Her dark eyes seemed to be emty pits in her face.
Isis winced as her eyes caught sight of her ghastly appearance. How could a girl like that be second-in-command to Miss Popularity? Tate wasn’t much prettier. Isis had already decided the only reason they were popular was because the beat their way to the top.
“Something wrong, Mirks?” Amby asked crossing her arms.
Adrenline flushed through Isis’s body. Her cheeks turned slightly red under her white skin. She couldn’t stand them. A deep hatred rose in her body like fire. She would probably get detention for being this late to art.
“She’s so screwed up she can’t even speak!” Tate sending Amby into fits of laughter.

Pale In Comparison-3

2007-05-29T02:43:54Z

“Yeah and your dad is looking for love in all the wrong places,” Amby murmered smiling. Isis covered her face with her hands. She could hear the smile in the red haired girl’s voice. Through clenched teeth it fought at her. Trying to push tears to overwhelm her eyes.
Isis tried not to let them overwhelm her. She stood calmly, her sad smile not berrating them.
It was routine. She went through it every day. Tate and her groupie would show up, humiliate her and then leave. Sometimes if she didn’t answer to their snide remarks they would grow cocky and beat her.
Today seemed to be one of those days.
“Think you’re special or something because of the new dye-job, Mirks?” Tate called.
“Even though you have a new look doesn’t mean people won’t think you’re a freak anymore,”
Amby smiled again. A sinister, evvil grin that stretched across her face and ate away the nice girl act.

Pale In Comparison-2

2007-05-29T02:43:26Z

Isis frowned. Her lips drew together in a tight snarl. It seemed, however, to just egg them on. Amby still stood in arms-crossed-grimacing position. Tate kept on laughing. Her long, golden brown hair pushed neatly behind her shoulders.
“No wonder your mom ran away,” Tate said her sing-song voice biting through the silence filled hallway. Her large cat-like eyes narrowed into an evil grin.
“Yeah,” Amby added mimicking Tate’s tone, “After giving birth to a retard like you.”
Their words stung. Isis bit her tongue trying to ignore them. Maybe the would go away. She didn’t retaliate or shout. She didn’t even glare at them. She just stared hopelessly at her shoes.

Pale In Comparison-1

2007-05-29T02:42:58Z

Prologue:

Why do you let them bash you, my child? Do you hear me? Can you hear my call as it sounds against rocky shores? Why do you let a heart such as your’s linger the in the depths of that which is not meant for you? My darling, my daughter, I weep watching you suffer the torment of them. Even now as you rest in heaven’s glade your heart yearns. It cries out in soundless desperation. A melody that stings my heart.
Your’s is a tale as old as the ages. Kindgdoms were seized and mountains crumbled. You are special. Every filament of your soul rests in the caring of eyes of him. He cares for you more than your heart will let you know. Yet, you ride your story on a broken sail. Unmended and torn it slows you, lets you fall, kills you. You cry out to the unreachable depths of his mind with your death song.
Don’t worry my darling, just sleep. I will tell of you. It is something needed to be told, needed to be echoed in the hearts and minds of the young. As a warning, a promise, a secret, it is told.