.Julia.

When I cannot sing my heart. I can only speak my mind.

            “I’m done.” She said. “I can’t take it anymore. Can’t I just quit?”

            “You can, but do you really have the guts?”

            “No… I suppose I don’t.” She sighed.

            She looked down onto the desk and grabbed the foundation. It gushed out of the tube and splattered all over the surface but she used it anyways. A little chunk here and a little chunk there helped cover up the mess. Once it was wash white she could work on the decoration. Each color pieced together like a puzzle and each puzzle placed side by side made a painted canvas. It sparkled and twirled its oils creating a mosaic. This piece sat chubby and cold before the glass cemented in self loathing.

            “You could if you wanted to, you know. No one will notice. They’re all busy.”

            “Of course they would! They love me.” She defended.

            “Are you sure about that?”

            “No.”

            She took the sparkles from the stars and glued them to her flesh. Soft slender fingers plucked each stone from its place in the mass. They caressed the tips and soiled the base. They passed the middle and hit the bottom. For recognition they lingered at the top and parted the radius to catch a glimpse of their inner organs. They pumped and sang in her soft ears. Julia. Julia. They sang. Julia. And in the final act of refinement she placed them in secret parts as clothing.

            “Why do you want to? Where have you been?”

            “I don’t know. Sometimes I stop and try to picture the places in my mind but they’re never clear.”

            “Do you like it here?”

            “Sometimes.” She replied. “Sometimes…”

            “That’s not good enough.”

            She sang to the little doors that opened and closed just for her. The only friends that ever mattered were the knobs. The hinges hummed the harmonies in squeaks and squeals that to most would be nails on a chalk board. But to her lobes they were music. Music in numbers and notes with beats and rhythms that constructed themselves into songs that even the Beatles couldn’t write. These notes danced around her like hymns to the lord and with every turn of a knob they belted. She sat and waited for another to sing for her, but it never came. In the mirror the bars frowned blank and floating.

            “Do you think it would be good enough to be gone?” She asked.

            “I don’t know. That’s your choice.”

            “Why does it have to be though? Why can’t someone chose for me?”

            “Because they don’t care, dear.”

            “I suppose they don’t.” She cried. “Then do you think they would mind?”

            “No, Julia. I don’t think they would.”

            She danced off of her stool and away from her mirror. Her little toes hit the ground with such force that the ground shook. The bare flesh that surrounded their tiny bones bled against the soft soil. They fell in tiny tears against the ground making spells and incantations that set off signals. No one saw this though. No one heard as Julia parted her lips in song and no one cried when only one door opened for her. And as the final act began no one cared. Sweet little Julia bowed before the world and then in hushed hymns succumbed.

            “Goodbye Julia.”  

 

Reviews

I love the description in this, but I was just wondering- te voice is supposed to be in her head right, there's not somebody else there? Other than that though it's really good, it's always great to get into peoples minds in stuff like this :) Could do with a bit more background on why she's going to kill herself, but in a way that's all part of the thrill- good write! :) xx

[Nash Page]

Love the surreal description as I can see everything from her eyes. Even the voice inside her head as it speaks to her, even if it's the world or herself relaying the thoughts she has. It's almost possible to see the world through her eyes as she ends her life. Beautifully written in a macabre way.

[MrJodie]

I love the hidden structures. "She looked, she took, she sang, she danced..." You're brilliant and it shows in your writing. There are a few grammatical errors (NOT INTENTIONAL ONES, LADY!) here and there, of course, but overall it's practically perfect. You need to try doing this again. C'mon, go ahead, pick another subject and try it again. Oh, and I love the Beatles song, too.

[Blindmikey]

The way you pen the inside of the mind makes poetic become a lack of good description. But for such carefully penned writing I must make the attempt to express it's impact. So I leave you with this: don't ever stop.

[Aaron Sturgis]

Now THIS is how you write when there's no expectations riding on your shoulders. Darling, you are a fabulous, spectacular, extraordinary writer. The imagery in this piece is orgasmic to the senses. I can picture each and every action and word in this story as vividly as day in my mind. Don't ever let what people expect of you hold you back, sweetheart. You can write, and my god, you are GOOD at it.