The Diaries: Thursday October 13th

Thursday, 1:18 AM

Her fingers felt weighted down as they moved across each plastic key, typing out her messy thoughts. She should be asleep, but she is kept awake by Death. Death, in all his bony elegance, takes time from his midnights to whisper stories in her ear. Her left ear in ache of his eloquence, while her right absorbs the empty ringing of silence. She is slave to write down his every word, though not bound by blood, but by desire and belonging. She feels safe in the stone cold arms of Death.

Thursday, Noon 

"I admire drag queens and kings, they have spunk" Her eyes widen, "You need to have spunk in order to be lively, and if you aren't lively than you aren't really alive." "Are we alive then?" Her friend asks. "Not right now we aren't."

Thursday, 8:38 PM

"Goldy was a chubby, little punk, with long, greasy, bleached out hair. She trolled through suburban subdivisions at night, while dear Mommy worked the bar, and well, she didn't know where Daddy was. Small, lonely houses with dark windows and empty driveways were Goldy's reality relievers. She'd enter through a back window, and use her flashlight to navigate. Junk food, leather furniture, and unlimited free cable, what more could a girl want? But it was this evening in particular, that her usual, lazy ritual went awry. A family came home early, and Goldy, passed out on their vodka on the couch, didn't hear the door open. "

"Now, I will mention here it wasn't entirely Goldy's fault; Mr. Behre had a history of domestic violence and anger issues, in fact he goes to therapy twice a week. Maybe it was bad luck, or just her time, but an axe to the head was how our dear, drunk Goldy died."

She looked up from her coffee stained loose leaf and smiled. "Blunt is the way they should be told." was all she said for the rest of the night.