Broken
By: Awesomo Fox aka A. Lalad
Category: VA
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary:
Disclaimer: I don't have to claim that they aren't mine,
'cause I never use names! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!
Take that you California Lawyers!!!
Thanks To: Mara, my bestest ever friend. I hope you
keep writing-if you don't it will be a waste of
incredible talent (even though you might not
think so!) ~Awe
Note: Awesomo is pronounced (and I say this only because
it is so frequently mispronounced)
*** Awe-SO-moe ***
Lalad is ***LAAA-lid***
Feedback: ALalad@xfilesfan.com
#######
Become Part of the Fox's Boxers and Socks Academy Today!
#######
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Broken
By: Awesomo Fox aka A. Lalad
He was broken. A splinter of what was once a brilliant,
resilliant man. What used to be amazing was now torn in pieces,
shattered on the ground, ripped up, shredded, crumbled to dust.
He returned to work, but only to pack up his desk. He
half-heartedly threw the things that meant most to him in a
brown cardboard box, leaving the humdrum office supplies to
the scavengers of his coworkers and the cleaning staff.
Material things meant nothing now, and he truly
only held on to certain items for their sentimental value.
He took the backway out of the building, not wanting to face
the curious stares and apologetic glances he knew he would
recieve from his former colleagues. Without a final glance,
he pushed the door open and retreated to the parking lot.
He wanted no last remembrances of the place. It held almost
a decade of memories-most of them good, but the bad overshadowed
all. And every memory included her. The pain would
overwhelm him soon if he let it.
Right now, that was all he felt like doing.
But instead, he only continued to walk to his car, throwing
the box on the passenger seat as he climbed in the vehicle.
He could almost imagine her sitting there, waiting for him
to start the car and take her home like he had so many
thousands of times before.
The blaring sound of a horn from the distant road brought him back
from his hopes, and he started the car as he bit back a lump in his
throat.
The trip home was blurry, and he couldn't recall much about it.
Luckily, he arrived in one piece and so did the car.
He caught the door as his neighbor in 56 walked out through it,
but the man did little by ways of acknowledging him. That was
the way most of the neighbors were now-cold and quiet toward
the mysterious man who lived on the fourth floor, apartment
42. That was the way they would continue to be.
As usual, he recieved no greetings as he entered his home
either. This lonely man was truly lost now, with nothing to
hold on to for stability, let alone sanity.
She was gone. Forever.
And that realization sent him to his knees in despair, right
there in the hallway, where he sat crying for eternity or
five minutes.
After all, he was broken. A splinter of what was once a
brilliant, resilliant man. What used to be amazing was now
torn in pieces, shattered on the ground, ripped up,
shredded, crumbled to dust.
And no one would ever be able to repair the damage.
~~~~~
FIN
~~~~~
Thanks for reading!
Feedback is greatly appreciated and *ALWAYS* answered (although
sometimes it takes awhile, but...) at:
ALalad@xfilesfan.com
"A writer is a person who has taught their mind to MISBEHAVE..."
~Stephen King
~A. Lalad
By: Awesomo Fox aka A. Lalad
Category: VA
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary:
Disclaimer: I don't have to claim that they aren't mine,
'cause I never use names! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!
Take that you California Lawyers!!!
Thanks To: Mara, my bestest ever friend. I hope you
keep writing-if you don't it will be a waste of
incredible talent (even though you might not
think so!) ~Awe
Note: Awesomo is pronounced (and I say this only because
it is so frequently mispronounced)
*** Awe-SO-moe ***
Lalad is ***LAAA-lid***
Feedback: ALalad@xfilesfan.com
#######
Become Part of the Fox's Boxers and Socks Academy Today!
#######
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Broken
By: Awesomo Fox aka A. Lalad
He was broken. A splinter of what was once a brilliant,
resilliant man. What used to be amazing was now torn in pieces,
shattered on the ground, ripped up, shredded, crumbled to dust.
He returned to work, but only to pack up his desk. He
half-heartedly threw the things that meant most to him in a
brown cardboard box, leaving the humdrum office supplies to
the scavengers of his coworkers and the cleaning staff.
Material things meant nothing now, and he truly
only held on to certain items for their sentimental value.
He took the backway out of the building, not wanting to face
the curious stares and apologetic glances he knew he would
recieve from his former colleagues. Without a final glance,
he pushed the door open and retreated to the parking lot.
He wanted no last remembrances of the place. It held almost
a decade of memories-most of them good, but the bad overshadowed
all. And every memory included her. The pain would
overwhelm him soon if he let it.
Right now, that was all he felt like doing.
But instead, he only continued to walk to his car, throwing
the box on the passenger seat as he climbed in the vehicle.
He could almost imagine her sitting there, waiting for him
to start the car and take her home like he had so many
thousands of times before.
The blaring sound of a horn from the distant road brought him back
from his hopes, and he started the car as he bit back a lump in his
throat.
The trip home was blurry, and he couldn't recall much about it.
Luckily, he arrived in one piece and so did the car.
He caught the door as his neighbor in 56 walked out through it,
but the man did little by ways of acknowledging him. That was
the way most of the neighbors were now-cold and quiet toward
the mysterious man who lived on the fourth floor, apartment
42. That was the way they would continue to be.
As usual, he recieved no greetings as he entered his home
either. This lonely man was truly lost now, with nothing to
hold on to for stability, let alone sanity.
She was gone. Forever.
And that realization sent him to his knees in despair, right
there in the hallway, where he sat crying for eternity or
five minutes.
After all, he was broken. A splinter of what was once a
brilliant, resilliant man. What used to be amazing was now
torn in pieces, shattered on the ground, ripped up,
shredded, crumbled to dust.
And no one would ever be able to repair the damage.
~~~~~
FIN
~~~~~
Thanks for reading!
Feedback is greatly appreciated and *ALWAYS* answered (although
sometimes it takes awhile, but...) at:
ALalad@xfilesfan.com
"A writer is a person who has taught their mind to MISBEHAVE..."
~Stephen King
~A. Lalad
