POP your heart out.
Yup. I promised to post some horror today...so I'll get you a flash piece I did. And don't forget to read my story at the Horror Library Slushpile, 2nd Runner Up. Since you probably want to listen to music while you read, I'll give you an artist worthy of the holiday. The Moldy Peaches are a really, really lo-fi pop indie band. And their lyrics are so playful and funny. Downlaod their song Nothing Came Out here.
The story is untitled, but it'd be great if you give me suggestions. Copyright 2005 by Laura Yan. Copying is bad!
It became their hangout, an abandoned parking lot behind a never constructed grocery store. Every afternoon, faithfully, they came here, cleaned up the beer bottles, the broken condoms, the mess the “cool” high school kids left behind. They sat together, faced the sun, watching until nightfall, the skies dyed orange and red and purple and pink. Most of the days one of them remembered to bring a CD player, a radio, a tattered laptop with a brand new speaker system. Samples from new artists, old favorites tucked together in one package, their sacred music shrine.
But as much as they loved music, and although none of them never said and never would say it, it was the days in which they sat in utter silence that was the best. Their thoughts became free, their bodies merely vessels, holding in what could be much more. Their bright eyes stared into the sky, sparkling with brilliance, but fogged with mystery and intrigue. They thought of different things. Worries, joys, fears, excitement. It refilled their energy and mood level, bringing them to a state of enjoyment more than any drug ever could. It filled their mouths with the taste of success and they bathed in the attention.
It showed them what they really wanted, what they were meant to live for.
In the days that followed, school would always be hell. Taunting cries, kicks to the stomach, slaps to a blushed face. But somehow, they would go through, happy, excited, bubbling with anticipation. And somehow, the next day, the kids who taunted them would always be weak, tired, fragile. Eyelids dropped, breaths hallowed and forced, faces and bodies pale as ghosts. When asked, the kids shivered and shrunk against the nearest wall, wrapping their bodies in shadows, blowing away attention. Only when a trusted friend enquired to their well being would they admit the nightmares that plagued restless nights. Monsters with fiery eyes, sharp white teeth barred, burnt tongues flickering towards their necks. A torn and demented claw, nails brittle and devoured by worms, swiping down at their, twisting on patches of skin, forcing down their throat.
Despite their way below average grades in English class, their descriptions would be vivid, detailed, every scar on every monstrous face painted with raged accuracy. Although their friends laughed and comforted, they would feel the coldness washing their bodies, drenching little joys with blackened soda. And, somehow, none of them would ever be able to completely forget what they had seen or heard.
That year, there were a greatly increased number of suicides and accidents in the school.
The four who hung out at the parking lot spend their last year of high school laughing. And, they never did stop laughing.
The story is untitled, but it'd be great if you give me suggestions. Copyright 2005 by Laura Yan. Copying is bad!
It became their hangout, an abandoned parking lot behind a never constructed grocery store. Every afternoon, faithfully, they came here, cleaned up the beer bottles, the broken condoms, the mess the “cool” high school kids left behind. They sat together, faced the sun, watching until nightfall, the skies dyed orange and red and purple and pink. Most of the days one of them remembered to bring a CD player, a radio, a tattered laptop with a brand new speaker system. Samples from new artists, old favorites tucked together in one package, their sacred music shrine.
But as much as they loved music, and although none of them never said and never would say it, it was the days in which they sat in utter silence that was the best. Their thoughts became free, their bodies merely vessels, holding in what could be much more. Their bright eyes stared into the sky, sparkling with brilliance, but fogged with mystery and intrigue. They thought of different things. Worries, joys, fears, excitement. It refilled their energy and mood level, bringing them to a state of enjoyment more than any drug ever could. It filled their mouths with the taste of success and they bathed in the attention.
It showed them what they really wanted, what they were meant to live for.
In the days that followed, school would always be hell. Taunting cries, kicks to the stomach, slaps to a blushed face. But somehow, they would go through, happy, excited, bubbling with anticipation. And somehow, the next day, the kids who taunted them would always be weak, tired, fragile. Eyelids dropped, breaths hallowed and forced, faces and bodies pale as ghosts. When asked, the kids shivered and shrunk against the nearest wall, wrapping their bodies in shadows, blowing away attention. Only when a trusted friend enquired to their well being would they admit the nightmares that plagued restless nights. Monsters with fiery eyes, sharp white teeth barred, burnt tongues flickering towards their necks. A torn and demented claw, nails brittle and devoured by worms, swiping down at their, twisting on patches of skin, forcing down their throat.
Despite their way below average grades in English class, their descriptions would be vivid, detailed, every scar on every monstrous face painted with raged accuracy. Although their friends laughed and comforted, they would feel the coldness washing their bodies, drenching little joys with blackened soda. And, somehow, none of them would ever be able to completely forget what they had seen or heard.
That year, there were a greatly increased number of suicides and accidents in the school.
The four who hung out at the parking lot spend their last year of high school laughing. And, they never did stop laughing.
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