Authors notes: Finally the Second in the Deranged series. I have many in my mind working up their odd lil plots. This one I feel is finally ready to be born in to the minds of readers who in turn will think, what, exactly AM I smoking?
p.s. Sorry that Tales of The Valley #1 was not finished I just need more creative time to make it complete.
¡Creepy lil odd story#2: Love Ridden
The party had finally ended and most of the teenagers had long since left before the morning even came. Jouslin sat, finishing the end of one of the videos they had rented to watch during the small shindig at her house. As she looked around, her down stairs living room seemed completely trashed now, compared to when she had finished cleaning it 16 hours before. Soda was spilled on the rug, various snacks had found their way to the floor, most, later crunched to bits by feet. The room reeked of alcohol, it seems no one can dance, half drunk, in a small area, with out spilling some of their vodka, Mikes Lemonade, or whatever they were drinking. At least the ones who fell over constantly had the couch all around them to catch their fall. "The smell of alcohol will take forever to get out of the couch", Jouslin Thought, "Why did I ever let those idiots have it!"
She forced her self up from her position, plopped on the floor in front of the tv. This took to much work and brain power for her likening, but she managed. She turned to look at her friends sleeping on the couch. They had passed out, Mike to her left on the couch against the front wall and her sweet Andy sleeping on the other piece of the couch in front of her. He twitched a little in his sleep and snored lightly, he seemed so cute and calm to her. The light from the tv flashed and flickered, lighting his face as she looked at him sleeping.
She took her sight away from him and looked at Mike, he had been out like a light for a while, she couldn't even see how he could sleep in such a position on her couch as he had gotten himself in to, but he seemed content as well. She turned toward the television turned it off and pressed the button to rewind the tape. "Be kind, rewind!" she whispered with an overemphasizing but quiet laugh, and then thought for a moment. "The liquor must still have a small hold on my mind"
She staggeringly walked up her steps and grabbed the only two blankets she could at the moment. She also apprehended her black paper notebook and her trusty silver gel pen, sentimental friends that had been with her to write all her moments of sadness and to express her longings and fear. She continued back down the steps, almost dropping the notebook and few times but achieving stature in the end. She placed the notebook and pen on a table to free her hands so she could place a small blanket of the lightest material on Mike and place the warmer one on Andy. She didn't want him to get cold or to be in any discomfort at all.
She then went to her spot on a smaller couch, frequently called a love seat, that was further up then the others, next to the tv. She lied down to sleep not minding the fact she herself had no pillow or blanket, even though it was cold and the couch was hard. She tried hard to just fall asleep and dream of the crazy party she just had, but she knew she would end up dreaming of only Andy. She knew she couldn't love him but her unconscious didn't care in the night. They were just friends, she could never have him, for the first part she wasn't exactly his type.
Thoughts like this filled her mind as she found herself, not sleeping, peering across the room at who she considered to be the most beautiful man she ever saw. Mike was lucky to have him. Any one would be lucky to have him, especially her. She stared at Andy's face in the darkness and wondered what he was dreaming, what kind of world he may be seeing, who was there. Was she there? Her mind wandered, always focused on Andy. She thought about how she almost had him once, a while ago, when he was having a straight period after a break up. It didn't take long for him to go back to his queerness and for her to become once again an admirer from afar. She knew he knew how she felt but he never knew just how to change it so he ignored the subject. To her it was like he was constantly breaking her heart by being around, reminding of love she couldn't have. To him he just didn't know what to say, and didn't want to lose a good friend.
In the back of her mind she knew all along this night would come to this. A tear fell down her face. Seeing him, she didn't know how to handle it, a mixture of happy and sad, but she invited him to the party, she wanted to see him. She knew she would be adding another entry to her journal of sad thoughts. She rose from the cold hard couch and retrieved the notebook, pen, the last bottle of vodka and a pack of a dwindling number of cigarettes. Her four best friends lately, for drowning her sorrows. She made her way out the back door and sat on the steps that lead to her backyard. She opened the notebook, took the caps off the pen and the bottle and lights her first cigarette for the night. With some liquor by her side, nicotine in her left hand and pen in the right, she began to write in the journal that was neatly placed on her lap. She sat, writing, with her knees together, in the cold. The night was dark, no stars, the only light came from the moon and that was enough for her to write words of longing and sorrow. She wrote first a poem.
I am a woman in love with a man, in love with a man who loves another man, and although I can be with him serving my appetite I cannot have him in the lonely night, and I cry and I cry, and sometimes any thing goes when your looking at me and I have been chained and I have repented I'm fighting my way to being lamented.
And so she wrote on, drinking every few words and smoking every cigarette left in the box. She continued in to the night to write her thoughts of her love, grief, and longing.
Love ridden I looked at you, with the focus I give to my long lost love and I wish for you, no body sees when you are laying in your bed and I want to crawl in with you but I cry instead I want your warm but it will only make me colder when its over so I can't tonight, no I can't tonight. Not tonight Josephine. I can't love you anymore. I can't bear to lose, letting go, love ridden, my long lost love, and I'm letting go.
Her mind grew darker, wilder as she let it run free, and as the drink took her over in a drunken swirl of thought and emotion her poetry began to unravel on the page as if it wrote itself.
If I should choose to live in my cocoon, wrap myself in me and cry myself to sleep, if I should choose to steal myself from you and take myself from you. If I should choose to fall apart, don't you think you should let me, if I should choose to die alone you should forgive and forget me. If I decide I can't do it anymore, I try to be hard; I try to be so fucking hard.
Tears began to fall faster down her cheeks and dripped on to the paper. She was a shatter as she fiercely wrote the words to what she felt was the greatest saddest love poem.
If I pretend my mind is telling truths that I can live with out you, well who are you, I know, I know, I know, true love. If I should choose to fall apart, don't you think you should let me, if I should choose to die alone you should forgive and forget me. You should forgive and forget me.
Once she felt her work was done, which in truth meant she felt she just couldn't write anymore as to her condition from the drink. She gathered her things, stood up, dried her tears and walked back inside. As she made her way to the stairs she past the couch and couldn't help but stop to peer at her sleeping beauty. She then walked woefully up the stairs and advanced to her room, as she did she could feel her heart literally break, her chest cave in, he legs no longer wanting to go on, she couldn't bare the thought that once she woke up she would have to say goodbye to Andy again, and as she decided, no longer see him, ever, she just loved him to much to be around him. Loving him hurt her too much.
She had planed to simply put back her notebook and pen where she had found them and return to the cold hard couch and await the morn when she would have to tell Andy a final goodbye. She didn't want to, but she had to, as said in the last words written in her journal.
Fate has lead me to this, I do what I have to do.
Jouslin never made it to the couch, to the morning light, to say goodbye. She struggled and stumbled to her room. Her legs giving in, her heart pounded, split, aching, her chest feeling as if it were turning inside out. She held her self up by shaky hands against the walls. She made her way to her dark room and managed to turn the handle, tears ran hot down her face and dripped to the floor. Once inside she dropped her pen and notebook on her burrow, stood up straight, and let out a moan. She grasped at her heart, which was pulling itself apart inside her, her breath began to fade her final thought was of Andy and he took her breath away. She fell on her bed, cold, alone, dead and in love with a man she couldn't have.
My hands will shake, my heart will break, I need something more then tender, my grasp frade, my poise strayed, my soul can ach only so many times, my heart breaks, you take my breath away.
"You didn't have to kill her you know?" Mike said mentally to Andy as his body slept
.
"I know but people like us can't be loved…" Andy replied as his soul with blood on its hands floated back in to its body. "She would have gone to hell for it". A tear fell down his bodies sleeping face.
And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray your soul the lord to keep, and if I'm loved when I awake it means the lord shalt be merciful. ~Andy
~¤~¡Creepy LlL Ödd Strøíes!~¤~ -
Coming next week: Tales of the Valley-Pig Lady Bridge
Poem excerpt Credit to: Sarah Mclachlin, Joydrop, and Natalie Imbruglia, that vile book of church, Fionna Apple, Tori Amos, and myself