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What would thoughts be like in a world without sound? Would you hear them, or would you just know? It's like a story embedded in your own hearing but you never think of it that way. Not unless of course, you write it down. A plot with no characters, that's what this is, or how it started.

Thoughts are like the historical fiction of the head, but all that is in my head is him. He's never quite dripped away through the cracks slowly and shyly. He just stays, stuck to the back of the brain and creating pictures through the sockets in my eyes.

He strutted with such ebony and cautiousness. He reminded me of preschool: Paintings that couldn't be defined, nap time and the applesauce pancakes I would make in drama class for the cast of Romeo and Juliet. There were no worries then and no one had a clue of what's to come. It was the definition of living.

The faint clatter of his shoes were drowning but that had to be an imagination. There is no sound. His lips moved but I couldn't hear, I could only study the acute features of his face and his lips. His eyes were every color imaginable and they reminded me of preschool. I like preschool.

Preschool was beautiful and I was in love with him. I remember when I first met him, It was a dream. Or so I'd imagine. There were sounds and I heard Preschool's voice. He was so pretty. I had never felt so lonely.

As I lie with him my body decomposes. It sinks into the ground, scratched by the fresh mountain air that the cervidae breathe. We eroded away but slowly, as slow as time.

The roots grew through our ribs and the flowers bloomed through the holes in our eyes. It may sound gory and it may be messy but that's what Preschool is. He's the platform. Preschool and Kindergarten go together. She reminds him of Kindergarten. They're so different but essentially the same, always near each other and one step away.

She's bones and he's gone. I still remember his rose quartz lips. If I can drag back the memory, I can remember when they opened. But they did not speak, or at least not the words I hoped to hear.

8 de Agosto de 2022 às 03:11 4 Denunciar Insira Seguir história
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FB Fatmata Barry
This is so good and I love the wording.

esperanza Elena Renjifo Silva esperanza Elena Renjifo Silva
me pregunto si hay alguna versión de tu historia en español, pues leía algo pero no entendí bien todo
September 21, 2022, 20:02

  • Carolina E Carolina E
    Estoy trabajando en una versión en español, debería estar disponible hoy. ¡Gracias por leer! September 22, 2022, 00:25

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