~Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I wanna shoot
The whole day down~ Boomtown rats, I don't like Mondays
Tom Riddle looked around him. It was a familiar scene to him by now. The bodies of countless muggles were strewn everywhere. A self satisfied sigh, a smirk, crossed his once handsome features-now chiselled into the cruel leer of a snake. Evil had carved the once beautiful sight into a curshingly horrible mask of deceit.
For one of the first times since his childhood, he questioned himself.
He had questioned himself a lot in his early life. Did he deserve this, did he deserve that. Was this right, was that right.
Was death always so wrong? That one came up a lot. And now, here it was again.
Oh sure, he now had no problem with killing-or at least he didn't think he did. It had become part of him, each death stinging slightly like a small prick of a needle. But they deserved it. Didn't they? He had thought they did.
Perhaps-perhaps he was wrong.
In his childhood, he had been unsure as to anything in life. Once he had a hold of something it was ripped from his grasp-his mother had died, his father disowned him, the orphanage had been burnt down, and his best friend had died in that fire.
His only friend had died in that fire.
If it hadn't been for those damn muggles, not letting him use his powers to save poor Jessica, she would've survived. He's loved Jessica for years before the fire, and at 13 he had been ready to tell her. He had arranged to meet her in her favorite place the next day, to tell her how he felt. Many of the girls had fallen in love with him-that mysteriously handosme boy with something in his eyes that gave you the idea of something sinister-and yet even though they could see his hate for the world, they still loved him. In a way, it was ironic. He hated the world, and it loved him. Perhaps one day he would love the world, and it would hate him.
That didn't happen. He didn't tell Jessica.
It had been Monday when it happened. A dark, foreboding day that could crush the spirits of everybody.
He had killed his father on a Monday.
Perhaps he just disliked that day. Or maybe he wanted revenge upon it, it had ripped Jessica away from him.
He hoped to kill Harry Potter on a Monday.
Lily and James had always been the perfect students of Hogwarts, and he hated them for it. They liked Mondays, but though this was annoying, it wasn't the thing that really annoyed the hell out of him.
They pitied him.
They knew about his parents, they knew about Jessica somehow, they seemed to know everything about him. That frightened him.
He hated to be afraid.
But still, had they deserved to die? Maybe Harry would end up like him. He doubted it-Potter had friends who were there for him.
Another reason to hate him.
The muggles had paid for his father's insolance, and that of the fire brigade. The wizards and witches had paid for their happiness and skill. Was there any point in him continuing this quest against happiness throughout the world? Jessica wouldn't've liked it, really. She had loved life.
Even Mondays.
~Sillicon chip inside his head
Got switched to overload
An nobodys gonna go to school today
He's gonna make 'em stay at home
And Daddy doesn't understand it
He always said he was good as gold
But he can see no reason
Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die?~ I don't like Mondays
One of my more philosophical works, doncha think? 'I don't like Mondays' belongs to the Boomtown Rats. The story behind the song, by the way, is that a girl in America took a gun to school and shot some of her peers. When she was asked why, she simply said 'I don't like Mondays'. I would advise you listen to the song as it's very powerful.
A strange inspiration for this one. I was in English (thinking 'Hah, I beat Robert on my comprhension score') when I saw a poster about capital letters. One of the phrases they used was 'I don't like Mondays'. The song wormed it's way into my head (I was struggling to remember the words whilst I walked home-we've got it on CD somewhere but I'm not sure where),and I started thinking about how it could be a good plotline for none other than Voldmort. I mean, who else fits the description so well?
I altered the song to HIS/HE as opposed to HER/SHE. I know that the 'Daddy didn't understand it' line makes no sense, but it fits the song so well I couldn't take it out.
Boomtown Rats own the song, JK Rowling owns Tom/Voldemort, Lily, James, Harry and Hogwarts (I refer to it). I own the orphange (I'm saying the one mentioned in book two is the one he moved to after the old one, er, got burnt to the gound) and Jessica. I'm thinking of doing a fic of the actual night of the fire, think it would be good? I like the idea of this, I may do a mini series. Anyway, I hope this fic struck a chord (as A Last Note did). I'd like to dedicate this to Daphne Kathy Goodman -your review for A Last Note really got to me and inspired me to work on more of this sort.
I'm getting worried now-my note is longer than my fic....
Review if you want to-I would really appreciate it. Flames are not welcomed. Justified criticism is welcome, however (That was pants! is a flame, That was pants, but if you did such and such it wouldn't be.... is justified criticism) as are nice reviews.
~Maybe this kid was reaching out for love
Or maybe for a moment he forgot who he was
Or maybe this kid just wanted to be hugged~ POD-Youth of the Nation
Listen to this song as well. It's great. Even if you hate POD, listen to it.
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I wanna shoot
The whole day down~ Boomtown rats, I don't like Mondays
Tom Riddle looked around him. It was a familiar scene to him by now. The bodies of countless muggles were strewn everywhere. A self satisfied sigh, a smirk, crossed his once handsome features-now chiselled into the cruel leer of a snake. Evil had carved the once beautiful sight into a curshingly horrible mask of deceit.
For one of the first times since his childhood, he questioned himself.
He had questioned himself a lot in his early life. Did he deserve this, did he deserve that. Was this right, was that right.
Was death always so wrong? That one came up a lot. And now, here it was again.
Oh sure, he now had no problem with killing-or at least he didn't think he did. It had become part of him, each death stinging slightly like a small prick of a needle. But they deserved it. Didn't they? He had thought they did.
Perhaps-perhaps he was wrong.
In his childhood, he had been unsure as to anything in life. Once he had a hold of something it was ripped from his grasp-his mother had died, his father disowned him, the orphanage had been burnt down, and his best friend had died in that fire.
His only friend had died in that fire.
If it hadn't been for those damn muggles, not letting him use his powers to save poor Jessica, she would've survived. He's loved Jessica for years before the fire, and at 13 he had been ready to tell her. He had arranged to meet her in her favorite place the next day, to tell her how he felt. Many of the girls had fallen in love with him-that mysteriously handosme boy with something in his eyes that gave you the idea of something sinister-and yet even though they could see his hate for the world, they still loved him. In a way, it was ironic. He hated the world, and it loved him. Perhaps one day he would love the world, and it would hate him.
That didn't happen. He didn't tell Jessica.
It had been Monday when it happened. A dark, foreboding day that could crush the spirits of everybody.
He had killed his father on a Monday.
Perhaps he just disliked that day. Or maybe he wanted revenge upon it, it had ripped Jessica away from him.
He hoped to kill Harry Potter on a Monday.
Lily and James had always been the perfect students of Hogwarts, and he hated them for it. They liked Mondays, but though this was annoying, it wasn't the thing that really annoyed the hell out of him.
They pitied him.
They knew about his parents, they knew about Jessica somehow, they seemed to know everything about him. That frightened him.
He hated to be afraid.
But still, had they deserved to die? Maybe Harry would end up like him. He doubted it-Potter had friends who were there for him.
Another reason to hate him.
The muggles had paid for his father's insolance, and that of the fire brigade. The wizards and witches had paid for their happiness and skill. Was there any point in him continuing this quest against happiness throughout the world? Jessica wouldn't've liked it, really. She had loved life.
Even Mondays.
~Sillicon chip inside his head
Got switched to overload
An nobodys gonna go to school today
He's gonna make 'em stay at home
And Daddy doesn't understand it
He always said he was good as gold
But he can see no reason
Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die?~ I don't like Mondays
One of my more philosophical works, doncha think? 'I don't like Mondays' belongs to the Boomtown Rats. The story behind the song, by the way, is that a girl in America took a gun to school and shot some of her peers. When she was asked why, she simply said 'I don't like Mondays'. I would advise you listen to the song as it's very powerful.
A strange inspiration for this one. I was in English (thinking 'Hah, I beat Robert on my comprhension score') when I saw a poster about capital letters. One of the phrases they used was 'I don't like Mondays'. The song wormed it's way into my head (I was struggling to remember the words whilst I walked home-we've got it on CD somewhere but I'm not sure where),and I started thinking about how it could be a good plotline for none other than Voldmort. I mean, who else fits the description so well?
I altered the song to HIS/HE as opposed to HER/SHE. I know that the 'Daddy didn't understand it' line makes no sense, but it fits the song so well I couldn't take it out.
Boomtown Rats own the song, JK Rowling owns Tom/Voldemort, Lily, James, Harry and Hogwarts (I refer to it). I own the orphange (I'm saying the one mentioned in book two is the one he moved to after the old one, er, got burnt to the gound) and Jessica. I'm thinking of doing a fic of the actual night of the fire, think it would be good? I like the idea of this, I may do a mini series. Anyway, I hope this fic struck a chord (as A Last Note did). I'd like to dedicate this to Daphne Kathy Goodman -your review for A Last Note really got to me and inspired me to work on more of this sort.
I'm getting worried now-my note is longer than my fic....
Review if you want to-I would really appreciate it. Flames are not welcomed. Justified criticism is welcome, however (That was pants! is a flame, That was pants, but if you did such and such it wouldn't be.... is justified criticism) as are nice reviews.
~Maybe this kid was reaching out for love
Or maybe for a moment he forgot who he was
Or maybe this kid just wanted to be hugged~ POD-Youth of the Nation
Listen to this song as well. It's great. Even if you hate POD, listen to it.
