Maybe there's some fiction in it all. In everything you see and you touch, leaving after images and thoughts, trailing whispers that leave you wanting more. You're left standing in wonder, "Did this really happen?" and find yourself never sure. The world and all that happens in it is some sort of haze that covers your eyes, like fairy dusty, like beautiful lies. What are we but mere victims on a stage; who is amused by this tormenting charade?
So is it too far to say all is a woven tale? An interlocking web of fiction, of wishes, hopes, dreams, constantly conflicting with reality? Perhaps they are all lies, and maybe all we do is worthless, futile, as we attempt to swim upriver, to our deaths.
Is it not poetic how we grasp out for one another? "Save me!" we cry. "Please love me..." we sigh. But all and all we are just trying to make the best of everything. Even if on a daily basis the world lies to us, even if...we are lying to ourselves. Somehow we spare some moment to bask in each others company, or to enjoy silent moments on our own. Somehow we survive becoming adults, and then survive becoming old. Can we do it together? Can we weave an amazing story? Is it possible to work together, to create a happen ending?
Because maybe there's some fiction in it all.
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I seemed to dream more, back then. There was more fiction in everything. I'm republishing this because I want to inspire myself. I know this is who I am...
Wait...something's coming....Can it bear fruit?:
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10:30am and the prof was only just starting to talk about the lecture, having just informed her students about the upcoming final and what it would entail. She was a little energetic for such a subject, but it helped to offset the mundane. It was always better when a professor was enthusiastic about what they taught even at the price of sometimes listening to long rants. This older woman was actually the better of all Sarah's other profs, but it was still hard to keep awake through two straight hours of class with only a five minute break in between. At this particular interval she was already losing track of what the prof was saying.
The Holy Roman Empire was split...by what? She had completely missed the line. Sighing, the young student peeked to her right where a classmate sat, wondering if she could see what he had written. Unfortunately he was left-handed, so it was pretty much impossible for her to make out anything relevant. Besides, she felt even if she had read them she wouldn't understand. Notes are a particular thing for each individual, it's like trying to break a code.
She decided it best to focus her attention on the prof instead, resting her chin on her hand and staring intently towards them to help pay attention. She had to squint to make out the prof's face from so far above; she was sitting at the farthest row of seats, right near the door. It was the perfect spot for an easy escape, after all, and for the life of her she had no clue why anyone would want to sit right up at the front anyway.
In some corner of her mind she felt like there were eyes on her and it was somewhat distracting, but in all her life she was never one to take bait of these feminine senses. It was telling her that the boy on her right was looking her way, and rather obviously too - but still unable to be true to her - without a wavering gaze. Within that deep subconscious part of her that was aware of his gaze there was also a hint of excitement; the boy was rather good-looking, so it didn't hurt to think just maybe he is looking my way?
For a moment she scrunched her bright green eyes together, too embarrassed for herself to even let such thoughts fester. There was nothing in her life at the time that left room for boys, and even then, she doubted the idea of one of them looking her way.
If anything, she thought, he is most likely thinking about how strange I must be.
Again she had to scrunch her eyes. There was also no room for self-pity.
"And in the later half of the century..."
She was finally starting to gain focus again when out of the corner of her eye there was movement. Figures streamed in from the doors at the bottom sides of the lecture room so quickly that she had no time to register what was going on before there was suddenly a flash of blazing light that forced her backwards after being hit with a strong heat wave. There was a multitude of cries, all linked together, collecting and then gradually receding. With some awareness she knew she had toppled over her chair and hit the ground. Her first feelings were embarrassment in case anyone had seen. This fear made her rise slightly with her arms and open her eyes. The second immediate feeling was dread, cold and silent, as tortured screams erupted from all around, and laughter; for the life of her she couldn't imagine who'd be laughing.
There was a considerate effort to focus on everything immediately in front of her, and she saw that down at the other end of the row a group of four had survived, although they had been thrown back just like her. To her shock there was soot and burn marks all over them. Desperately she looked over herself and noticed the same, but she felt no pain; all there was was cold, sweat, and the various noises that harassed her senses.
A prodding on her shoulder brought her around in a gasp, only to meet the pain-filled gaze of the boy who sat next to her.
"Call them," he told her hoarsely; it looked like he was gripping his arm. "The door."
She nodded and turned, motioning to the four. They all surprisingly took to her call rather quickly, despite the fact that one was apparently severely burned on the face, directly over his eye. The only girl in the party urged them forward, and all the pair could do is watch as they scrambled like animals towards them. Muffled cries meanwhile continued, along with the scraping of chairs and grunts as if there was a fight commencing. When the girl was very near them there was a loud screech that made them all freeze suddenly, someone cried, help, in agony and the next thing each of them registered was a blazing mass falling in between the two groups. In horror they stared as a lifeless body was consumed with flames. Without anymore need for convincing, the girl was forced roughly to turn around.
"Come on," the boy demanded without looking back. The girl looked desperately at the others, the girl leading them noticed the pair leaving and urged the others over the body. There was nothing any of them could do but run.
Once outside there were too many complicated things to take it. There students flocking every which way, most curious, others running away - hopefully survivors. The unaware ones stared in shock and fear.
Bomb. The word was repeated again and again, and it didn't take long for the other students to take in their injuries.
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Can't go on. It's too late at night and I can't concentrate...This thing is horrible. It's full of run-ons. It's not going in the direction I wanted. Oh well...hm, prob just because I'm tired...because if I think about it I can see where it can go.
aHH Suddenly, I miss Loki. This attempt just seems like me trying to get back to him. haha.
p.s ANOTHER ESSAY DUE MONDAY HAVEN'T STARTED!! :O
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