onyx-idiot

[onyx-idiot]

crochet sweater

okay so a small fact about me ive been crocheting for a long time and i recently decided to start making myself a sweater. its nearly done, but each sleeve by themself took 3 hours each. right now im making the body and then ill make the other bits but i probably wont be able to finish it until i get more of this specific color of yarn. 

[onyx-idiot]

Neither have I.

[onyx-idiot]

I feel like this house would be the home of a friendly little boy-ghost who decides to “haunt” you if you stumble upon it. 

[onyx-idiot]

Depressed Monster

Bored vodka.

[onyx-idiot]

Overcomplicatedly Simple

Why does every tree tower over you and burst into flames in the autumn? Every eye is made of gems. Every red vibrant, every green calming. Every tree is gnarled. We describe the simplest things in such an exaggerated way that makes you wonder if anything can be simple. We exaggerate everything when we write. It’s in our nature. We write how her skin was pale in the glistening moonlight or how their eyes shine with tears as they die in your arms. We read about how his hands were deft, and her hands were delicate. How xir’s arms were strong enough to carry a whole motorcycle. How every eye was a window to the soul. But have you ever read about how her eyes were plain? About how nothing was special about her, except that she had a hidden talent for magic? Not everything has to have some major hidden secret. But that’s what we expect right? We want to be like them so we shift and we write fan fiction. We immerse ourselves in these stories about ordinary people who had something extraordinary happen to them and we hope for that to happen to use as well. But we know it’s never gonna happen and we disappoint ourselves. We accidentally put out the flame we’ve kindled for so long. We try to make up for it in words. But no words can ever actually truly describe something exactly as it is. The sunlight is always golden and every tree is gnarled. It’s always overcomplicatedly simple.

[onyx-idiot]

At my school there are a lot of poles and a few people can do flags but I want to try to learn this so i can be the first “girl” (I am not out to most people at my school as genderfluid) to do a flag at my school. most of the people who do flags at my school are cisgender basketball trumpets guys who are really annoying.

Woah. Nice!

[onyx-idiot]

“I wish to come back as a pile of shit. oh wait, i already was one. Oh well”

When you die, you get one wish - a death wish. Usually people wish for noble things like wealth and happiness for loved ones, or to be remembered fondly. But your wish has Death scratching his skull.

[onyx-idiot]

“What do you mean,” I said, “I’m just a regular human.” 

“No, you’re not just any human, or even human at all” they half yelled from across the room. They looked scared, confused, sand intrigued at the same time."You're not even of this world."

My friend was just standing there in shock. They weren't saying a word. "How? I've been living here for as long as I remember, they can vouch for me!" I pointed at my friend.

"A-a-a-actually y-yyy-you moved here a-a-a long ti-time-time ago" they said quietly.

Their cousin looked concentrated, but they were looking at me. They gave a small chuckle. "Did you really throw a cherry bomb into the school toilet? Nevermind."

I realized that they were looking into my mind to figure out something."What are you looking for?" I asked.

"I'm trying to find your memories of when you were young. Gimme a sec to find them, you've got lots of trauma that buried everything." They paused. "Found em," they said.

"Where am I really from?"

In the world you grew up in, telepaths are an accepted reality, but are not common. A friend of yours introduces you to a cousin,who is a telepath. Having been intrigued all your life, you ask if they will do a scan on you. Moments after connecting, they recoil in terror asking, “what are you?”

[onyx-idiot]

There were seven people. Seven minds. Seven moms and dads and children. Seven hopes and dreams waiting to be fulfilled. And one of them was going got die. It could be me, or her, or him. Only 6 of us were going to finish those dreams, to go home to their families. 

We had to say who was going to die. 1 of us had to die. No one knew who, or when, or what was going to do the deed, but it had to be done. But, we know who is going to die. 

 Turns out, the others didn’t like me. At all. They went behind my back and voted. At least, that’s what I thought happened. I woke up with no one around me and the only other presence was a cat. A tortoiseshell cat, to be exact. Her coat was smooth, but she was fat. A fat cat. The only thing that disturbed me about her though was her shattering green eyes. They left me broken but taped back together. 

I called her Nova. 

Nova and I were the only ones to be in that room for what seemed like years. Every day, when I woke up and before I went to sleep, there was a meal on the table in the corner. Neither of us knew who it was that sent the meals. I kept the date by keeping one utensil from the meals each day. I had already collected 476 forks, knives, and spoons, although I think Nova may have hidden a few. 

There was also a library. It only let me in the room twice a day. I gathered books and read them to pass endless days and nights. Always, new books were replacing the ones I’ve read. It kept me entertained for the year that I had been there. 

Fast forward 7 more years and Nova was getting grayer by the day. Nearly half of her body was covered with the forboding and dreaded gray fur. She was less limber than she was when I first met her. She only ever jumped on the bed. And worse, she wouldn't hardly eat. Her meals were left half-finished. And then Nova, the cat I had grown attached to so well and loved, died. 

I cried for weeks. She was the only other living being I had access to for years. I lost all the will to live and tried choking myself in my sleep. But, I always woke up alive. Someone untied the noose made from the blanket. They took away my utensils I had kept. I lost track of the days. 

Days turned into weeks. Into months. Into more, never-ending years. Then the room shook. My mind went blank on what may have caused it since I haven’t seen another living being for 4 years and not once been in a society in 11 years. Then I remembered what I read in the books. Expl...expli... explosion! That’s what it was. 

Then the wall was destroyed. I screamed, hardly a whisper as I hadn’t used my voice in so long. A huge chunk of it landed on my leg, putting spots in my vision and pain throughout my body. My leg was stuck. I had no way to escape. The first human faces I had seen in all this time, along with some not so human ones, were swarming in this room with a body slung over their leader’s shoulders. I was quickly losing consciousness, so I weakly said “I’m here, come find me” before slipping in and out of oblivion. The last thing I saw before I went for good was my childhood love bending over me, screaming “Pick up the wall off of her leg!”, and picking me up. 

I will do a part 2 if you guys send me your own endings of this story!

#short story #writing prompt