The Extermination.The Rat, Ran. He knew why they called him Chalkboard, he often ran and when he did, his feet echoed the sound of clapped erasers and his nails scratching the floor sounded like chalk etched onto a board. This time, he ran for his life.He could hear the gas flowing behind him. It smelled like death. He bounded forward and towards the scape hole on the other side. As he drew closer, his eyes were filled with blinding light, a second of pain, and then nothing.Merry Christmas spat the exterminator and threw the dead Rat into the bag.
remembering yesterday.i saw a girl, yesterday, sitting on the pavement. her back was against the molding brick, and the leaves were falling around her body like tears, her arms were scrunched up in front of her face, shielding her beauty from the town. there was a fresh scar on her wrist, still bright and burning with pain. i've been in that position many times. so i sat beside her.she moved her arms from her face, and looked at me with her muddy brown eyes, one eye covered with her black hair, and other with tears. her eyeliner had run down her face like a symphony, and no one even stopped long enough to notice-except for me; i understood.we didn't speak. we just focused our eyes on each other. not even a blink came from her or me. it was like a photograph, two people frozen while everyone else around them moved freely. except we didn't smile, or show our tongues, we sat-blank and damaged.she moved closer to me, putting her hand on mine, and her head on my broad, pale shoulder. she trusted me, even thou
Even if it Kills Me.My father ran off with my mother's best friend when I was five and my sister was three. I watched him pack his suitcases, but I was too young to understand. When I asked him where he was going, he turned to me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Charlie, you're the man of the house now. Take care of your mother and your sister." After that, he picked up a sheet of paper and a pen, wrote something down, and walked out. I went over a read the note: "My key is under the mat. Won't be needing it anymore. Goodbye." That was the last I saw of him. I haven't heard from him since; no birthday cards, phone calls, letters, nothing. When he walked out of that apartment, he walked out of my life.That was the day my childhood died.On the other hand, though, my mom has always been around. Well, at least physically - after my dad left, she kind of lost her mind. For the first couple of weeks, she shut herself in her room and wouldn't stop crying; we had to go stay at my Uncle Mike's until she c