A/N: I love love loved the feedback I got for Part One! Not to mention the prompts :) I love you guys and I hope you enjoy this one! More feedback equals faster posts. Happy reading :)
ALSO: If you're new here, here's part one: link Anyways, enjoy!
The Stranger's Musings: A Collection of Drabbles (Part Two)
Prompt 1: Darkness (requested by SweetHoneyBunny)
The darkness suffocates me.
I can’t see, I can’t breathe. My hands claw at nothingness as I
attempt to find a way out.
My breathing escalates. It feels as though my lungs are constricting.
Cold sweat breaks on my forehead and I find myself on the floor,
desperately trying to find some sort of light source to diminish this
demon.
It feels as though the darkness has grown hands and the hands have
locked around my throat, preventing me from breathing.
Panic begins to set in and I find myself screaming hysterically, my
palms banging against the floor.
I cannot escape this, I need to get out.
Words cannot describe my fear of darkness. I do not know where it
originated from but as long as I can remember, darkness reminded me of
vulnerability and defencelessness. Of death and hopelessness.
I have visions of cloaked strangers with deadly knives lurking in
corners, waiting to strike.
My head collides with a wall and I fall back, nearly in tears.
My fear is getting the best of me. I must find a way out, I think to
myself somewhere in the flurry of hysterical thoughts.
I pull myself off the ground and nearly scream as a cold breeze
attacks my shivering, tear-drenched face.
I take a deep breath and walk gingerly towards the opposite direction,
my hands in front of me, feeling my way around.
I nearly shriek in relief when my fingers close around the cold metal
of the doorknob.
Twisting it, I breathe deeply as bright sunlight assaults my face.
That will be the last time I go looking in the cellar, I think to myself.
The menacing hands of darkness have released their grip.
There is a time for facing fears. However it is not my time...
Yet.
Prompt 2: Orphan (requested by hgfan5602)
I am greeted by a light, cool breeze as my hands push the black iron
gate open, creaking like nails on a chalkboard.
The graveyard is small. A small square of yellow grass dotted with
gravestones and stone markers.
This is the place, I think to myself, taking a deep breath. My
fingers’ grip on the wilting white tighten as I start walking. Dried
yellow and red autumn leaves crunch under the pressure of my combat
boots, a fresh new sound in the land of silent death.
Each row of graves are marked with a tall poplar tree. I stop at the
fourth one, my eyes scanning the ground, looking.
I breathe deeply when I see them.
Two rectangular gravestones, interlocked and engraved on as one. The
writing is worn with age but I can still make it out.
Here lies Gabrielle and Matthew Cohen
1973 to 2012
Beloved sister, brother, mother, father,
son, daughter and friend.
May they rest in peace, forever and always.
I can barely mask the sob that escapes me.
I am an orphan. A lonely, parentless child left alone in the dark.
My parents were victims of a car crash. A drunk driver on a rainy day.
All their hard work, the solid foundation they had built on
rock-bottom, all taken away by a driver hitting high on the happy juice, stupid enough enough to get into a car with hail the size of bullets raining down.
They didn't even press charges.
It’s been five years yet I can’t go a day without remembering them.
I swallow the bile that has risen in my throat and wipe away the dry
tears that have welled up in my eyes. I kneel down so I am level with
the stones. Breathing deeply I begin to speak, just like my therapist
told me too.
“Uh... Hi Mom, hi Dad.”
It feels silly talking to two stones in the ground but that was what
my therapist told me to do. To finally achieve closure. I breathe in
again and speak:
“Well it’s...it’s me, Abigail. You know, your-your daughter from all
those...years ago?” I feel like crying now but I can’t stop speaking.
“It’s been, like, f-five years since you last...uh...saw me,” I close
my eyes briefly, trying to imagine them in front of me, listening, “A
lot’s happened since then. I’m...I’m fifteen now for one thing.”
I clear my throat awkwardly, “I’m in high school now. Pretty cool, right?” I can
almost imagine them in front of me, smiling. I try to sound as natural
as possible, “It’s-It’s great but... Chemistry is just so freaking
hard...” I stop to laugh hollowly, “I mean, I love school but
I...sometimes wish you guys could help me out with it. It’s tough
stuff.”
I feel like I should stop but I find myself plowing on.
“I’m nearly six feet tall now,” I say, my fingers playing with the dead
grass, “People call me the Giant. I’m, like, the tallest in my grade.
Even my best friend Nadine says so. I find it really weird but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm, like, an outcast of sorts and..."
And before I know it, I am spilling my heart out to the two stones in
front of me.
I tell them everything: from my past crushes to my favorite teachers,
about the state of my room to the strictness of my foster parents,
from my favorite ice-cream flavor to my summer plans.
Everything.
It’s not until my phone rings, signaling it’s nearly five o'clock, do
I realise I’ve been there for almost an hour. Spilling my heart out to
a pair of stones.
“Well...I-uh... I guess I have to go now,” even though I know I’m
saying goodbye to a pair of gravestones, for some reason I feel as if
it’s the right thing, “It was...great talking with you guys.”
I sit up and dust off my jeans before laying my white rose right
between the graves.
Just as I am about to turn, a thought strikes me and look back.
I lean close to the stones, not aware of the tears on my cheeks. I
whisper softly, as soft as a feather, to them:
“I miss you both so much. I...I love you two. I’m proud to...to be
your d-daughter. I wish you could see that.”
I lean back and swallow hard but it can’t stop the tears from coming.
I turn and start walking towards the gate when I hear it.
A gentle whisper, either a figment of my mind or just my imagination.
But as my hand rests on the cool metal of the gate, I swear I can hear
five softly spoken words:
“And we’re proud you’re ours.”
Prompt 3: Monkeys (requested by sadiebugz00)
“Ya know, you look like a pwimate,” says the little three-year-old boy
to his friend as he watches him jump up and down on the ground while
waving his hands like a lunatic.
“A pwimate? ‘Wuzza pwimate?” his friend asks as he scratches dirt out
of his eye.
The boy looks at him and brings his hands to his armpits and sticks
his tongue out.
“‘Thith ‘thi ‘tha ‘thathay,” he manages with his tongue out.
His friend looks at him confusedly and asks, “Whajja say?”
The boy rolls his eyes and pulls his tongue back and says, “A pwimate
is see-me-lar to a monkey.”
He seems to be proud of using a big word and sticks nose into the air pompously.
The other boy scratches his head and asks, “You’re using big wowds,
Danny.” Then he squints at him, “You sho’ you’re not a pwimaid?
Uh...mwonkey or somefin’?”
Danny rolls his eyes once again and mutters, “Says the
pwimate-slash-monkey himself.” He looks at his friend, “Now you gotta
wee-peet afta’ me. Pwi-mate is a monk-ey. Got it?”
His friend attempts to repeat his words and messes up. After several
more failed tries, Danny finally thrusts his hands into the air and
sighs.
“I gwive up wif’ you Bobby. Wanna go make Lego monsters?”
Bobby grins and says, “Fwinally! Says the pwimait-swash-monkey himself.”
END OF PART TWO.
[i] A/N: Well I hope you liked that. Yes, I am aware of how I slaughtered the English language in the third one but I did that to fit in the three year old thing. Besides, that's how my lil' cousin talks :3 And I am indeed afraid of darkness :D
Anyways, hoep you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Which one was your favorite? Leave prompt requests, feedback and whateveryouwant in the comments. Remember, the more requests and feedback, the faster I shall post the next. That's all, thanks for reading and until next time! :)
xx cuteypuffgirl
ALSO: If you're new here, here's part one: link Anyways, enjoy!
The Stranger's Musings: A Collection of Drabbles (Part Two)
Prompt 1: Darkness (requested by SweetHoneyBunny)
The darkness suffocates me.
I can’t see, I can’t breathe. My hands claw at nothingness as I
attempt to find a way out.
My breathing escalates. It feels as though my lungs are constricting.
Cold sweat breaks on my forehead and I find myself on the floor,
desperately trying to find some sort of light source to diminish this
demon.
It feels as though the darkness has grown hands and the hands have
locked around my throat, preventing me from breathing.
Panic begins to set in and I find myself screaming hysterically, my
palms banging against the floor.
I cannot escape this, I need to get out.
Words cannot describe my fear of darkness. I do not know where it
originated from but as long as I can remember, darkness reminded me of
vulnerability and defencelessness. Of death and hopelessness.
I have visions of cloaked strangers with deadly knives lurking in
corners, waiting to strike.
My head collides with a wall and I fall back, nearly in tears.
My fear is getting the best of me. I must find a way out, I think to
myself somewhere in the flurry of hysterical thoughts.
I pull myself off the ground and nearly scream as a cold breeze
attacks my shivering, tear-drenched face.
I take a deep breath and walk gingerly towards the opposite direction,
my hands in front of me, feeling my way around.
I nearly shriek in relief when my fingers close around the cold metal
of the doorknob.
Twisting it, I breathe deeply as bright sunlight assaults my face.
That will be the last time I go looking in the cellar, I think to myself.
The menacing hands of darkness have released their grip.
There is a time for facing fears. However it is not my time...
Yet.
Prompt 2: Orphan (requested by hgfan5602)
I am greeted by a light, cool breeze as my hands push the black iron
gate open, creaking like nails on a chalkboard.
The graveyard is small. A small square of yellow grass dotted with
gravestones and stone markers.
This is the place, I think to myself, taking a deep breath. My
fingers’ grip on the wilting white tighten as I start walking. Dried
yellow and red autumn leaves crunch under the pressure of my combat
boots, a fresh new sound in the land of silent death.
Each row of graves are marked with a tall poplar tree. I stop at the
fourth one, my eyes scanning the ground, looking.
I breathe deeply when I see them.
Two rectangular gravestones, interlocked and engraved on as one. The
writing is worn with age but I can still make it out.
Here lies Gabrielle and Matthew Cohen
1973 to 2012
Beloved sister, brother, mother, father,
son, daughter and friend.
May they rest in peace, forever and always.
I can barely mask the sob that escapes me.
I am an orphan. A lonely, parentless child left alone in the dark.
My parents were victims of a car crash. A drunk driver on a rainy day.
All their hard work, the solid foundation they had built on
rock-bottom, all taken away by a driver hitting high on the happy juice, stupid enough enough to get into a car with hail the size of bullets raining down.
They didn't even press charges.
It’s been five years yet I can’t go a day without remembering them.
I swallow the bile that has risen in my throat and wipe away the dry
tears that have welled up in my eyes. I kneel down so I am level with
the stones. Breathing deeply I begin to speak, just like my therapist
told me too.
“Uh... Hi Mom, hi Dad.”
It feels silly talking to two stones in the ground but that was what
my therapist told me to do. To finally achieve closure. I breathe in
again and speak:
“Well it’s...it’s me, Abigail. You know, your-your daughter from all
those...years ago?” I feel like crying now but I can’t stop speaking.
“It’s been, like, f-five years since you last...uh...saw me,” I close
my eyes briefly, trying to imagine them in front of me, listening, “A
lot’s happened since then. I’m...I’m fifteen now for one thing.”
I clear my throat awkwardly, “I’m in high school now. Pretty cool, right?” I can
almost imagine them in front of me, smiling. I try to sound as natural
as possible, “It’s-It’s great but... Chemistry is just so freaking
hard...” I stop to laugh hollowly, “I mean, I love school but
I...sometimes wish you guys could help me out with it. It’s tough
stuff.”
I feel like I should stop but I find myself plowing on.
“I’m nearly six feet tall now,” I say, my fingers playing with the dead
grass, “People call me the Giant. I’m, like, the tallest in my grade.
Even my best friend Nadine says so. I find it really weird but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm, like, an outcast of sorts and..."
And before I know it, I am spilling my heart out to the two stones in
front of me.
I tell them everything: from my past crushes to my favorite teachers,
about the state of my room to the strictness of my foster parents,
from my favorite ice-cream flavor to my summer plans.
Everything.
It’s not until my phone rings, signaling it’s nearly five o'clock, do
I realise I’ve been there for almost an hour. Spilling my heart out to
a pair of stones.
“Well...I-uh... I guess I have to go now,” even though I know I’m
saying goodbye to a pair of gravestones, for some reason I feel as if
it’s the right thing, “It was...great talking with you guys.”
I sit up and dust off my jeans before laying my white rose right
between the graves.
Just as I am about to turn, a thought strikes me and look back.
I lean close to the stones, not aware of the tears on my cheeks. I
whisper softly, as soft as a feather, to them:
“I miss you both so much. I...I love you two. I’m proud to...to be
your d-daughter. I wish you could see that.”
I lean back and swallow hard but it can’t stop the tears from coming.
I turn and start walking towards the gate when I hear it.
A gentle whisper, either a figment of my mind or just my imagination.
But as my hand rests on the cool metal of the gate, I swear I can hear
five softly spoken words:
“And we’re proud you’re ours.”
Prompt 3: Monkeys (requested by sadiebugz00)
“Ya know, you look like a pwimate,” says the little three-year-old boy
to his friend as he watches him jump up and down on the ground while
waving his hands like a lunatic.
“A pwimate? ‘Wuzza pwimate?” his friend asks as he scratches dirt out
of his eye.
The boy looks at him and brings his hands to his armpits and sticks
his tongue out.
“‘Thith ‘thi ‘tha ‘thathay,” he manages with his tongue out.
His friend looks at him confusedly and asks, “Whajja say?”
The boy rolls his eyes and pulls his tongue back and says, “A pwimate
is see-me-lar to a monkey.”
He seems to be proud of using a big word and sticks nose into the air pompously.
The other boy scratches his head and asks, “You’re using big wowds,
Danny.” Then he squints at him, “You sho’ you’re not a pwimaid?
Uh...mwonkey or somefin’?”
Danny rolls his eyes once again and mutters, “Says the
pwimate-slash-monkey himself.” He looks at his friend, “Now you gotta
wee-peet afta’ me. Pwi-mate is a monk-ey. Got it?”
His friend attempts to repeat his words and messes up. After several
more failed tries, Danny finally thrusts his hands into the air and
sighs.
“I gwive up wif’ you Bobby. Wanna go make Lego monsters?”
Bobby grins and says, “Fwinally! Says the pwimait-swash-monkey himself.”
END OF PART TWO.
[i] A/N: Well I hope you liked that. Yes, I am aware of how I slaughtered the English language in the third one but I did that to fit in the three year old thing. Besides, that's how my lil' cousin talks :3 And I am indeed afraid of darkness :D
Anyways, hoep you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Which one was your favorite? Leave prompt requests, feedback and whateveryouwant in the comments. Remember, the more requests and feedback, the faster I shall post the next. That's all, thanks for reading and until next time! :)
xx cuteypuffgirl
I made these collages a while ago and i have got to share them with you.
For some odd reason this things wont let me post it unless my article is longer so i am trying to make it longer. Just wasting space here. I understand
Will Bella ever stop loving Edward? Will Peeta ever cheat on Katniss? These questions and more will be answered after these messages.
K-Stew and Rob are OVER. Well, she did cheat on him with a MARRIED MAN WHO HAS KIDS.
For some odd reason this things wont let me post it unless my article is longer so i am trying to make it longer. Just wasting space here. I understand
Will Bella ever stop loving Edward? Will Peeta ever cheat on Katniss? These questions and more will be answered after these messages.
K-Stew and Rob are OVER. Well, she did cheat on him with a MARRIED MAN WHO HAS KIDS.
