Heart-Strings

JournalWord: Fate

::  

Red strings hang, waving from the ceiling like curtains swaying in the breeze invited by an open window. The girl treads through the red fibers, pushing them aside with her fingers as she weaves between the fluttering threads. Her fingertips strum the strings like a harp, but the only sound in the endless, white hall is the brush of her knees against the hem of the mint sundress she wears. 

She follows a path only seen by instinct, winding herself further down the hall on soft footsteps with only the sight of red all around her. As if struck by impulse, she shoots her hand through the wavering threads in a direction beyond her field of vision to an area by her peripheral. 

She runs her fingertips down the strand, slowly, teasingly stroking the gossamer tendril like a precious vein. Without hesitance, she sharply grasps the string in between her fingers and palm, and tugs it towards her. 

The string pulls loose from the ceiling and the end hanging close to the floor ravels around her ring finger and the other end pulls tight in the opposite direction. The end not tied to her leads off through the other strings like a path, elongating into the sea of red. 

Pausing, she waits, her eyes focused on the taunt string that disappears down the forever hall. A tremor suddenly travels down the string, like a call that pulses through the throng of threads. It's calling for her, just as she has searched for it. 

Before the strings tugs, her feet pick up into a run and she sweeps through the curtains, following the trail to her fate.

::

This short is inspired by Japanese fate, where love between two people is tied together with a red string.

This is one of my versions of love. 

This being, that I don't actually believe in love. 

(shoot at me Cupid, I dare you!)

It's kind of funny, considering I used to write a lot about love when I was younger, but what does a 13 year old girl know about love anyways?

So yeah, my friends try to prove me wrong, and I'm sure they can be right and believe what they like (I am very open to knowing everyone has their own mindset that I have no control over), but I'll stick to my original plan.

Which doesn't involve love.

And instead involves the possibility of a one night stand or, in the case I am deterred from Plan A by family and friends, artificial insemination via Folder-Boy (y'know, a dude chosen from a bunch of folders.. HarHar).

Maybe I've got too much science in this brain of mine, or I'm just neurotic. Who knows! But so far, that's the plan :P

I mean, who wouldn't love a gorgeous son (manufactured by chosen genes-Yay for eugenics!) by the name of Hexane??

Well, that's a tidbit from my mind :)

Hope it didn't freak you out too much ;P

Be bubbly,

Mera <3

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Lost Pet

JournalWord: Murdering a microwave.

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He slams open the cupboard doors, still ungratified by the crack of wood clattering onto the tile counter and the smacking it makes on the linoleum floor. He fingers the empty glass by the sink and swipes it to the floor with a sweep of his arm. He swipes at another glass, a small smile 

lifting his frown. He rips off another cupboard door from its hinges, then pulls the fridge door off with a spray of sparks.

"Find what you wanted, Riche?"

"Hardly." He doesn't even turn around and continues to kick the microwave he has just tossed to the floor.

Clement leans on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching his friend brutally murder his microwave as if this scenario is a daily occurrence. "Riche, what is it this time?" he tries again. 

"I'm looking for my pet," is the reply before Riche hefts the rest of the fridge over his shoulder and smashes it onto the demolished rubble that used to be his microwave.

"And have you found it yet, because, seriously. My kitchen is being severely destroyed and I'd rather you don't harm anymore of my household appliances."

Riche chooses not to answer, filling the unspoken reply with sure kicks into the gut of the toppled fridge.

"Riche," Clement starts, not wanting to play Riche's game. "You refuse to associate with human beings, let alone with animals. What is wrong?" 

There's a moment before Riche speaks. "My pet ran away and I'm looking for her."

"Riche," Clement warns. 

Riche turns his back away and crouches, examining the wires and other components spilling out of the gutted fridge. "I don't like pets," Riche mumbles. "They're so pure and innocent, and are so willing to open their hearts to humans without a sense of hesitation." Riche grasps a handful of colourful wires and rips them out of their sockets with a yank. "But this one 

is different. It has nothing to do with purity and innocence, and all that lovey crap others like her have."

"Then what is it?" Clement asks, startling Riche. Riche tenses and stands up, the bundle of wires still in his tight fist.

"She won't open her heart," he whispers. Riche lets go of the wires, and watches them fall lightly onto the chaos he created.

::

Oh! This is going to definitely be a busy semester! My class schedule is all over the place, with 6 hour breaks between classes and days that stretch from 8am to 10pm. I hope I don't burnout! 

I've also got an interview for a hospital volunteering position in the ER Information desk on Tuesday! So nervous! I need the hours for my requirements to BCIT, but I'm also excited to be volunteering again! Fingers crossed that I make a great impression >.<!!

Gonna keep positive!
Mera!

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Through The Chest

JournalWord: Listening to a heart.

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"You have a heartbeat?"

"You can hear it really well if you press your ear against her chest."

"You let him touch you?!"

"No, I didn't!"

"You promised that I could listen again."

"No, I did not." 

"That's not fair! I want to listen too!"

"Get off me! Let go-"

"I want to listen too. It's only fair."

"Wow. That's quite aggressive."

"Stop him! It's your fault that this is happening!"

"That looks fun. Can I join in?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"Of course not! It's my turn!"

"How about I hold her down for you and then we can switch-"

"Hello! I've got a message for my pretty princess-what is the meaning of this?"

"Oh."

"Help!"

"Get your filthy hands off her!"

"Calm down. We were just trying to touch her chest."

"Well than, you deserve an execution!"

"That guy was doing it too."

"Hey! You sell-out!"

"I see. But you'll go first and then I'll kill him!"

"You guys, enough!"

::

A dialogue between 4 people. Could you follow?

~Mera.

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