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Tuesday, 6 January 2004
First Part
Okay, so my story is picture-perfect, but hey! I've gotten lots of complements on it. If I hadn't closed all those heavenly IM windows, I'd copy/paste a few. Anyways, here goes my story, or what I have of it anyway.
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Meghan Blair
By Rose Bennett
A small girl stood before a pitch black casket, tears dripping from her eyes, and blood red roses in her grip, the thorns digging deep into her pale skin. Bright red blood dripped down her hand and onto the graveyard dust, desipating it, throwing the loose ground into the air. Her head was bowed, her loose black curls falling into her face, her blue eyes staring vacantly at the ground. Without a word, she tossed the roses into the open casket, turning and walking out of the graveyard with a blank gaze.
----- 6 months later -----
"Meghan, you need to wear something besides black. It's not your color, honestly."
Meghan sat on a stone bench in her home courtyard, the ancient runes and inscriptions of the house surrounding her with its mystery. Her black curls were pinned back, merging with her black gown and the darkness of night. Her blue eyes were vacantly staring into the deep green of the forest outside the house. Her friend Anita stood next to her, concern in her eyes for her lifelong friend. Anita's blonde hair was down.billowing out slightly in the lightly blowing wind. Anita's emerald green eyes housed concern.
"I like black, to me, it suits me. You don't have to be so concerned for me, Anit." she said softly, staring off into space.
Anita moved to in front of her, kneeling and taking her hands. The scars from the thorns were scattered across her palm. The scars had almost healed over, little marks of red decorating her palms.
"Meghan, you haven't eaten practically anything, you don't wear clothes suited for the weather outside, and you're unconcerned about anything! They died six months ago, it's time to pull away."
Meghan glared at her friend, standing up and twirling over the stone grey bench, falling to her knees on the pavement. The scars on her palms opened up, leaving little droplets of bright red on the bleach white pavement. She shakily stood, dusting off her gown carefully. Very slowly, she walked into the house. Anita walked not far behind her, volomptious green gown swaying behind her. Meghan walked into the parlor, leaning on a marble counter. Anita stood accross from her, leaning aginst the red rose-patterned wall.
"I don't need you worrying about me, Anita. I've already got the whole town doing it for you." Meghan said, turning to fix some vegetables.
She pulled out a stalk of celery, and a sharp knife, and started to pare the celery. Anita was being unusually silent, for once. A surge flew through her, and before she could stop it, the knife lept from her hand and across the room towards Anita. The knife struck at her heart, and Anita collapsed to the floor, frighteningly pale and not breathing. Meghan rushed over to her, crying softly. She took the knife out of her friend, but it was no use. Anita Blake was not coming back to life. She sat, sobbing on the floor, with the knife that killed her friend doused in her friends blood, sitting in her hands.
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Okay, so thats my story. I'd love your feedback, and if I know you, please say so. O_o
I'm outtie. Laters.
-Meghan or Rose or Maya or Moo and sometimes Ari
Posted by meghanadarablair
at 6:38 PM CST
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