The Writings On the Walls

[*~*PermenantlyLost*~*]

The girl was spinning among the tables. She sang along with the radio and laughed as she spun faster and faster. Her wild brown curls were flying around her while her ragged black skirt spun up around her, revealing her thick-heeled calf-high boots. Suddenly she stopped and slid to the floor, the skirt puddling around her, and hugged her knees. She cried quietly to herself in the silence of the abandoned old pub. Her pub. The only place she was safe from their screaming voices.
The girl?s parents were always screaming. Most of the time it was at her, but more and more often it was at each other. Jim told her she should stand up to them. Teddy said it was child abuse and she should tell someone. But she couldn?t do anything. Whatever she did, it would change things, and it would probably change them for the worst. So all she could do for now was let them rip her to bits, and then try to tape herself up a little better for next time.
She was 15. She attended a private high school on scholarship. She loved school, she was friends with everyone in her grade, and she got good grades. But they weren?t good enough grades. Not for her parents, anyway. Nothing was ever good enough for her parents. Not her A?s, not her chores, not her friends, nothing. Her family was the only cloud in her life. And that cloud was growing into a tremendous storm that was threatening to crush her when if broke open.
The girl liked to pretend that everything was perfect. Every morning, she woke up and caught the bus and laughed and joked with her friends. She made them laugh at how stupid she pretended to be, and she was all smiles. Then it was over. She got on the bus and became a different person. She was quiet and shy. She felt her family start to descend on her more and more the closer she got to home. Her family hated her.
She thought about it all as she sat, curled up on the floor of her pub. She couldn?t go on like this. They were literally driving her insane, she couldn?t sleep, and she couldn?t breathe sometimes. And they didn?t see it. They didn?t see how much they hurt her every time they said her Advanced Algebra II grade made her a disappointment. She was a failure. What if she had always been a failure? Was everything up till now just an elaborate mixture of luck and pretend? She was so confused, so hurt?she looked around at the blank walls of the pub.
She dug around in her backpack and pulled out a pink permanent marker. She turned to the wall behind her and started to write. She just wrote and wrote, she didn?t know what she was writing. She didn?t care. One moment it was a short poem, the next it was just a word. Failure. Disappointment. Freak. Bitch. All the words she had been called the last few months came flooding out onto the blank walls in pink. She moved on from her little spot on the floor. She scribbled a little higher. Poems occurred most often. She wrote for hours, not noticing the time until she was empty. Then she collapsed on the dirty floor again, weak and hollow. But she didn?t hurt anymore.
The next day she came to the old pub straight from school, armed with her pink marker. And the day after that. And the day after that. The girl came back to the pub every free moment she had to write on its white walls. Sometimes she wrote short stories. Sometimes it was happier, and other times her words portrayed her true misery. But every day she disappeared from the rest of the world and came to the pub, her own world of words. And she never told anyone about it.
At first, her parents were angry that she was out so much. They yelled and fought and said she didn?t do enough to help out. But eventually they seemed to forget about her. She came home when she came home. That was that. She was an outsider even among her own family.
Years after the girl had grown up and moved away, the pub was sold. City Council had decided the old place was an eye sore and had to go. It was old and creaky and dangerous. No one had ventured inside it, even the local hooligans were smart enough not to. And it held a secret no one had ever discovered.
On the day of the demolition, there was a knock on the Mayor?s door. A construction worker told him there was something he should see up at the old pub. The Mayor rolled his eyes, but followed the construction worker up the hill. He ventured inside hesitantly and shone the flashlight he had been given along the walls. Pink, they were pink. No, they weren?t, the pink was words. Thousands of words written in a chaotic mess. The Mayor looked around in awe. He could make out phrases, but the words blended nicely. He came out into the daylight again, debating what to do about the building. There really wasn?t much he could do. He told the crews to continue.
There is no pub there anymore. All that stands is a bare wind swept hill. But on that hill, there is a small tree that fought its way through the rubble that is left of the old pub. Carved on the tree in sloppy letters, and filled in with pink marker are the words:
?The loneliness isn?t so hard after a while. Its just empty. Nothing is there. Nothing was ever there.?

[lost coconut]

Chloe that was awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!


What an awesome short story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!


I LOVE it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!


U R such a good writer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!


Please write more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!


It was really pretty but sad too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!


It's kind of like the poem you showed me in Bio on Tuesday.


Keep Writing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


(I was having fun with the exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!! See ya tomorrow)

[HarVardGrl92]

thats a great story!!!!!!
is there sum sort of continuation?

[crazy_and_lost]

great job chloe! i know ive already responded to this on starlight ballroom, but i feel that it deserves another bombardment of smilies from ur favorite evil squish pillow (which btw i changed my sig to include that title).

^_^ :P :D :lol: :wub: :banana: :bunny: (its jorge!) :chat: :drunk: (the butler did it again!) :groupwave: :drop: :happyjump: :monkey: :pirate: (what do u do w/ a drunken pirate?!) :popcorn: :makesmilie: :snack: :hide: :starwars: :hi:

[lost coconut]

Chloe I love your story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Is there going to be more???????