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Chapter 16
Remembering is hard for the soul
As soon as my parents heard the news, they came storming through the hospital and taking me out of there despite my doctors best wishes. I smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up to mostra him I was okay, and he did the phone symbol and mouthed call me. I was glad he stayed da my side after that horrible ordeal, he and Cadence stayed da side me throughout the night.
I was spooked and I told them both about my dream, even though I was sure he doubted my story, he listened and asked domande like Cadence. I was happy that it seemed that he believed me, and he was extra curious about Bubble gum.
So was I, I explained it over and over but it still seemed impossible. How could she know I was there? Was she pyschic too?
My parents parked the car in front of our house, my mom gently grabbed me and carefully led me upstairs to my room. When we reached my room my parents tucked me in my letto and looked at me concernedly. I could see them better and my mom looked pale and scared while dad looked lost.
“Are te okay, sweetie?” Mom asked me.
I nodded. “Better now, mom did te get any sleep?”
Mom shook her head, “doesn’t matter now, as long as your okay.”
I nod as my mom kisses my cheek, she casts one più worried glance at me. “Call me if te need anything.”
“I will.”
She gives me a dazzling smile and leaves the room, dad stares at me a few secondi before begrudgingly following my mother. It was weird, it was as if they switched roles, mom looked worried while dad looked annoyed.
I shake my confused thoughts as I think back to the girl with the bubble gum hair, she had detto Serache, that must be her name. But I’m sure now that she wasn’t the one who had tried to suffocate me, but she probably was just was as important.
I’m going to need to find her. But that’s going to take some time.
And I’ll have to wait.
Or maybe not, I think as I close my eyes and think of the girl again and my sister, I might just get another vision if I’m lucky.
If only my sister had something, anything, that can conjure anything up. I’ve racked my brains for hours, but still I have no idea of a girl named Serache with bubble gum hair. I sighed.
I stood up and went to my closet, I pried off the special tile and my hand searched for something that I haven’t touched for years. It took a while but soon enough I felt my hands close on a hard surface. I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breathe and then pulled my hand with the object out of the tile.
It was a a craft book, designed da a giddy young pre-teen whose family was happy back then. There’s all kinds of pictures of us in there, I remember dedicating most of my time into this. And when our family did break apart, I put even più time into it, I’d take thousands of pictures, I remember even Dorothy complaining.
Serache didn’t look familiar, none of them did, but maybe, just maybe, I met them. Probably walking da them on the street, o when Dorothy and I went to the mall and a ton of her Friends stopped her to say hi. It could’ve been anytime, I had to spot at least one of them.
I flipped the pages, cringing at our extremely bright smiles, if only we knew what would’ve happened, we wouldn’t have been that happy. It was agonizing to look at every picture without having to feel the wave of sadness, hopelessness, and anger that course through me, but I pushed aside my thoughts and kept looking at every picture.
I had to study them, and look più closely, in case there was a detail I’ve never noticed before. After minuti of endless nothings I stopped at one certain picture. It was of me and Dorothy, bright smiles pastered on our faces and hands on our hips in a sassy attitude style.
There was probably nothing wrong with that, but if te looked behind us there was something strange. They wore normal clothes, looking ordinary. Their head was turned toward us, their hair long that it reached past their belt, covering their face perfectly. All I could see was a portion of their lips, which were full and pouty, their body was obviously female, I would probably be worried if that was not the case.
The only other indicator of importance was the hair color, a dark sheen of black, the same color I have a reason to believe my attacker’s hair was. Could it be?
It was hard to tell if I had seen her before, she was shielded perfectly. Did she do that on purpose? Did she know the camera would get her? I furrowed my eyebrows as I studied her hard, waiting for any fonte of recognition, but it never came.
Frustrated I took that picture aside, and started to look through the other ones. But they barely had anything except indicators of where my sister has been. One picture made me pause in particular, we were at one of those shopping plaza’s, it was a sister-sister thing we wanted to try.
I was practically floating the morning of our day, Dorothy was having a good laugh at my happiness, but I couldn’t help it. I got to spend time with a sister I adored, it was one of the happiest days of my life.
I closed my eyes and smiled, remembering how I felt, and then when I opened my eyes I was standing the plaza shopping place.
I smiled to myself, finally a good memory, even if it was a vision.
Chapter 16
Remembering is hard for the soul
As soon as my parents heard the news, they came storming through the hospital and taking me out of there despite my doctors best wishes. I smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up to mostra him I was okay, and he did the phone symbol and mouthed call me. I was glad he stayed da my side after that horrible ordeal, he and Cadence stayed da side me throughout the night.
I was spooked and I told them both about my dream, even though I was sure he doubted my story, he listened and asked domande like Cadence. I was happy that it seemed that he believed me, and he was extra curious about Bubble gum.
So was I, I explained it over and over but it still seemed impossible. How could she know I was there? Was she pyschic too?
My parents parked the car in front of our house, my mom gently grabbed me and carefully led me upstairs to my room. When we reached my room my parents tucked me in my letto and looked at me concernedly. I could see them better and my mom looked pale and scared while dad looked lost.
“Are te okay, sweetie?” Mom asked me.
I nodded. “Better now, mom did te get any sleep?”
Mom shook her head, “doesn’t matter now, as long as your okay.”
I nod as my mom kisses my cheek, she casts one più worried glance at me. “Call me if te need anything.”
“I will.”
She gives me a dazzling smile and leaves the room, dad stares at me a few secondi before begrudgingly following my mother. It was weird, it was as if they switched roles, mom looked worried while dad looked annoyed.
I shake my confused thoughts as I think back to the girl with the bubble gum hair, she had detto Serache, that must be her name. But I’m sure now that she wasn’t the one who had tried to suffocate me, but she probably was just was as important.
I’m going to need to find her. But that’s going to take some time.
And I’ll have to wait.
Or maybe not, I think as I close my eyes and think of the girl again and my sister, I might just get another vision if I’m lucky.
If only my sister had something, anything, that can conjure anything up. I’ve racked my brains for hours, but still I have no idea of a girl named Serache with bubble gum hair. I sighed.
I stood up and went to my closet, I pried off the special tile and my hand searched for something that I haven’t touched for years. It took a while but soon enough I felt my hands close on a hard surface. I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breathe and then pulled my hand with the object out of the tile.
It was a a craft book, designed da a giddy young pre-teen whose family was happy back then. There’s all kinds of pictures of us in there, I remember dedicating most of my time into this. And when our family did break apart, I put even più time into it, I’d take thousands of pictures, I remember even Dorothy complaining.
Serache didn’t look familiar, none of them did, but maybe, just maybe, I met them. Probably walking da them on the street, o when Dorothy and I went to the mall and a ton of her Friends stopped her to say hi. It could’ve been anytime, I had to spot at least one of them.
I flipped the pages, cringing at our extremely bright smiles, if only we knew what would’ve happened, we wouldn’t have been that happy. It was agonizing to look at every picture without having to feel the wave of sadness, hopelessness, and anger that course through me, but I pushed aside my thoughts and kept looking at every picture.
I had to study them, and look più closely, in case there was a detail I’ve never noticed before. After minuti of endless nothings I stopped at one certain picture. It was of me and Dorothy, bright smiles pastered on our faces and hands on our hips in a sassy attitude style.
There was probably nothing wrong with that, but if te looked behind us there was something strange. They wore normal clothes, looking ordinary. Their head was turned toward us, their hair long that it reached past their belt, covering their face perfectly. All I could see was a portion of their lips, which were full and pouty, their body was obviously female, I would probably be worried if that was not the case.
The only other indicator of importance was the hair color, a dark sheen of black, the same color I have a reason to believe my attacker’s hair was. Could it be?
It was hard to tell if I had seen her before, she was shielded perfectly. Did she do that on purpose? Did she know the camera would get her? I furrowed my eyebrows as I studied her hard, waiting for any fonte of recognition, but it never came.
Frustrated I took that picture aside, and started to look through the other ones. But they barely had anything except indicators of where my sister has been. One picture made me pause in particular, we were at one of those shopping plaza’s, it was a sister-sister thing we wanted to try.
I was practically floating the morning of our day, Dorothy was having a good laugh at my happiness, but I couldn’t help it. I got to spend time with a sister I adored, it was one of the happiest days of my life.
I closed my eyes and smiled, remembering how I felt, and then when I opened my eyes I was standing the plaza shopping place.
I smiled to myself, finally a good memory, even if it was a vision.
I've been written
The painful truth,
Just two days ago,
When I was...betrayed.
He walked away from me
He threw me down in the sand
Like I was some little doll
Of little importance.
It was a scary thought
To think,
Of all those years...
When he took me in
Now he threw me down and that's that
I'm not a paper doll
So I will not be thrown down again
Cuz I am not a puppet
No one will control me with strings
I am invincible
I am an individual
No one shall make me suffer
Though I must cry sometimes....
Don't swing me da my head
Don't make me lose my mind
I don't want to destroy you
But I will, if te destroy me.
The painful truth,
Just two days ago,
When I was...betrayed.
He walked away from me
He threw me down in the sand
Like I was some little doll
Of little importance.
It was a scary thought
To think,
Of all those years...
When he took me in
Now he threw me down and that's that
I'm not a paper doll
So I will not be thrown down again
Cuz I am not a puppet
No one will control me with strings
I am invincible
I am an individual
No one shall make me suffer
Though I must cry sometimes....
Don't swing me da my head
Don't make me lose my mind
I don't want to destroy you
But I will, if te destroy me.
No matter how much te wish for più it happens like the ora glass time runs out and you'll lung for more.
With that time your ideas that others may know them as sweet they run out and leave people wanting more.
We song writers, novelists, story writers and poets will all leave our adience want so much more. The reason? It's because of our massive creatively, our unique style and tenchquie it's what drives us to a certain point as of where we'll keep our audience entertained. While inventors may lose their touch after contrast copies from the same old ideas being modefiyed we have our minds being put to the test da our viewers. After all they matter most their who we write for right?
With that time your ideas that others may know them as sweet they run out and leave people wanting more.
We song writers, novelists, story writers and poets will all leave our adience want so much more. The reason? It's because of our massive creatively, our unique style and tenchquie it's what drives us to a certain point as of where we'll keep our audience entertained. While inventors may lose their touch after contrast copies from the same old ideas being modefiyed we have our minds being put to the test da our viewers. After all they matter most their who we write for right?
(Verse 1)
I am in Amore with the guy whois sweet
till we meet It isn't possible
(Verse 1)
(Chorus)
We need to meet before we go under cover for each other We need to meet before we go undercover for each other
(Verse 2)
We haven't met yet
Still single hearted
thinkin' 'bout each other
Everyday
(Verse 2)
(Bridge)
Now & then everyday we need to meet each other goin' separate paths and ways to meet each other and go undercover
(Pre-Chorus)
We are going separate paths and ways sometime we need to meet in the middle and go undercover Now,
(Chorus)
We need to meet before we go under cover for each other We need to meet before we go undercover for each other
(Chorus)
We need to meet before we go undercover
I am in Amore with the guy whois sweet
till we meet It isn't possible
(Verse 1)
(Chorus)
We need to meet before we go under cover for each other We need to meet before we go undercover for each other
(Verse 2)
We haven't met yet
Still single hearted
thinkin' 'bout each other
Everyday
(Verse 2)
(Bridge)
Now & then everyday we need to meet each other goin' separate paths and ways to meet each other and go undercover
(Pre-Chorus)
We are going separate paths and ways sometime we need to meet in the middle and go undercover Now,
(Chorus)
We need to meet before we go under cover for each other We need to meet before we go undercover for each other
(Chorus)
We need to meet before we go undercover
I walk into
The Fields of Sorrow
Once again.
Why do I walk there
Almost everyday?
I stroll along the grasses
Thinking
Bearing a horrible pain.
I think of the world around me
And how much they have inspired me.
I start to cry once again.
All my teachers
All my friends,
They have always stood da me,
When things went wrong.
I want a chance to repay them,
To mostra them that...
Their work was useful.
To mostra them that
I am truly thankful.
Why do I have to leave them then
Now?
No, now's not a good time.
But I know it was not intended
That I leave them now.
I want to mostra all those people
That they have been
The change of my life,
That they have made my life so much
Better,
That they were the flames
In the darkness.
The Fields of Sorrow
Once again.
Why do I walk there
Almost everyday?
I stroll along the grasses
Thinking
Bearing a horrible pain.
I think of the world around me
And how much they have inspired me.
I start to cry once again.
All my teachers
All my friends,
They have always stood da me,
When things went wrong.
I want a chance to repay them,
To mostra them that...
Their work was useful.
To mostra them that
I am truly thankful.
Why do I have to leave them then
Now?
No, now's not a good time.
But I know it was not intended
That I leave them now.
I want to mostra all those people
That they have been
The change of my life,
That they have made my life so much
Better,
That they were the flames
In the darkness.