Someone Somewhere Somehow // Super Whatevr

Janaina Medeiros

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@conflicteduality
Someone Somewhere Somehow // Super Whatevr
a necromancer is just a really late healer
āyouāre too late, doc, heāsā¦heās already deadā¦ā
*cracks knuckles* i didnt get my medical license revoked for nothing
i like idea of a necromancer that can bring back the dead but doesnt know how to cure the living so has to wait for someone to die before bringing them back
āhey doc do you have any splints I think I fractured my ankleā
*cocks gun* no but Iāll do you one better
unstrung
out of curiosity, a few friends and i walked into local, small thift shop. at least, that's what we thought - the building was mammoth in retrospect to how it looked from the outside. the hallway that we walked into stretched for miles, with millions of rooms scattered off of it. we immediately began to search them, and we quickly learned two things:
a) we had the place to ourselves and
b) it was nostalgia heaven.
we were partially correct.
to cover more ground in the time we had, we split up. no big deal. this was no nightmare. i searched a room for items. there were old toys - beyblades, bakugon, and stuffed animals - and it seemed that the room was dedicated just for them. old items, forgotten with time. until i saw something standing against the wall. a guitar, calling me toward it. i obeyed. i picked it up, and examined it carefully. it was a gorgeous white, except for all the signatures across its surfaces. signatures from people i'd once known, people whom i was once close to.
"pretty cool, isn't it?" someone called out, breaking me from my trance. i turned around and saw a man, dressed in all white. he was holding a remote controller and using it to fly a small helicopter around the room. "it's beautiful. a work of art. a perfect fit for you."
i start to walk over to him, with the guitar in my hands. ready to play. "it is," i said in response. it was all i could say. i was speechless.
"it's part of you, i'd say. like it is your life itself. kinda poetic," he said with a laugh. "us nerds aren't meant to be poets." the helicopter continued to fly around the room, and he focused on it, as if he was ignoring my presence. and i did, too. it was kind of mesmerizing.
"do you want it?" he finally asks, pulling me back to reality once again, and i stumbled to answer him.
"ye-yeah. i do."
he stared me down, despite my clear height advantage. "are you sure?"
"yes."
"then cherish it. i'll give it to you for free, as a gift. you were a favorite of mine," he said with a smile. it quickly faded though, replaced with one of absolute seriousness. he dropped the controller. "because if you don't-" the helicopter crashed to the tiles, bounced once, and rested finally, unmoving. "-you'll regret it."
i swallowed. "i will, promise."
"good. now go." he pointed behind me. "your friends are waiting."
i did as instructed, wandering back into the hallway. sure enough, they were waiting for me, calling out for me to hurry up. we had to go. i started to follow, studying the guitar in my arms as i went. it captivated me. i learned a few things about it as i walked to the door:
a) some names were repeated, each time as a new signature. one was truly done over and over, on all sides but the top, in big, bold ink. a curly, feminine kind of text.
b) his name was on it, too, but it was within the hole, inside the guitar. gordon.
my friends left first the building first, and i followed, hesitantly. i knew i could never come back if i left. but i did it anyway. as i also knew i will try to anyway.
i woke up, pulled off my blanket, and looked at the wall on the other side of my room. the wall with a guitar resting silently against it.
Me: What would you do if you knew I only had a little while left?
Delta: Ask you what you want and if possible, do it.
Me: I see.
Delta: Why do you ask?
Me: I'm curious.
Delta: Vice versa?
Me: I don't know.
Delta: Why not? I'm curious.
Me: I don't want to think about it.
Delta: Well, I know that when it becomes my turn, I won't be scared. I'm not scared.
Me: ...
Stohlman: Trash duty, huh?
Me: Heh... yeah.
Stohlman, after patting my shoulder: That's still an important job.
Me: ...Yeah.
Me, after I turn around, about to walk away: Thank you.
Stohlman, as I start to leave: No, thank you.
Me, after I'm down the hall, starting to sob once more: Thank you.
There are two reasons why we donāt trust people. First - we donāt know them. Second - we know them.
If brains are biological computers, why donāt we lag?
You canāt tell me youāve never walked into a room and forgotten why youāre there or lost a train of thought for a few seconds
I sat against the hard, plastic wall of the retracted stands in the gymnasium, watching over the mass of students in front of me, dancing around the DJ booth that's blaring hip hop music. The speakers' bass vibrated the wall and every part of my body. Colorful lights shone from the robotics on top of the booth, cutting through the darkness of the gym and projecting color on every person's face.
Between the mass of elegantly dressed students and myself was my date, wearing a fantastic black dress with a white top, paired perfectly with a matching corsage I had gotten her. She was dancing with a girl to the beat of the music. They held hands and swung themselves around and around, getting closer and closer. I sat there and watched, unable to act. Deep down, I desired to join in, be another one of those dancers. I wanted to dance with her. But I couldn't. My lack of courage and the risk of embarrassment kept me on the floor.
I lowered my gaze to the end of my outstretched legs. My black dress pants a moment later joined by a pair of jeans, who had sat next to me. I looked over at the person who they belonged to, Brian. He wore a long-sleeved Hawaiian shirt and a hat that was mix of a beanie and a baseball cap, long black hair coming out from its bottom. Behind his square rimmed glasses he looked into my eyes and then to my date, still dancing. Her beauty framed in the lights. He slowly shook his head.
Brian: It sucks having to watch the person you care about dancing with someone else.
I could barely hear his voice over the music but I still knew what had he said.
Me: Yeah, it does.
He rose a fist between us and held it there.
Brian: Welcome to the club.
I brought up my own fist and bumped his, our rings colliding with a silent clang.
We sat there for a moment after that, not saying anything more. He then got up and walked away. I noticed him glance at a girl as he went, lowering his head quickly to avoid being caught looking. He left the gym without looking back.
so donāt stop.
buddy i canāt have them saved
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Long-ways | Square-ways
Jeez, you're so stiff.
high school comments
empty hallways, blank boards, and nonexistent emotions.
don't read the story the true story, your true story that you spent months writing together with her
hundreds of pages left behind
i gasped for air, coughing up the water and chlorine from my lungs. i couldnāt see anything. all i saw was darkness with splotches of violet covering everything in sight. and that everything which was nothing. i was blind. i felt my eyes opening and closing. nothing, nothing at all. i felt a panic rise upwards from my chest. frantically i wiped at my open eyes my fists, trying to clear my eyes of whatever had blocked them. then suddenly, my vision came back. as the darkness faded i saw where i was. the panic rose to a fever pitch. i was on the side of the pool. i had been in it, that was for certain. my clothes were soaked. my hair felt heavy with water. every breath of air was painful. i hadnāt drowned. i went from resting on the bottom of the pool, 12 feet under, to laying on my back on the side of it. alive. it didnāt take long to see why. my savior stood beside me. he stared down at me, his eyes baring down on my own. the dark brown eyes iād known for years were a bright, luminescent blue. they seemingly shined with the lights in the pool. his faced didnāt show any emotions but those eyes⦠they were delighted. he started to speak. āone word, samuel.ā he spoke my name and the corners of his mouth spread into a smile. his expression finally matched his eyes - happy, joyful, and somehow twisted. he said one word before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. āsquip.ā
more than survive
son: i am a bit...
father: a bit what? spit it out.
son: under the influence..
father: under the influence of what?
son: our lord and savior jesus christ