literature

Young thing

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Literature Text

“For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo” Romeo and Juliet

Love at first sight…is a fickle thing; it comes for some and never for most. Even the idea of falling in love from just a look makes it sound impossible; and most of the times it is. However, for very few…just one look…is all they need to become obsessed.
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65 miles an hour, no toll in sight; he was supposed to be doing his job, and he was. Towing the load over to Scranton in two days from Chicago, it was nothing. Now he was sitting in a jail cell, just thinking about her, ready to cry his eyes out because of her. It was love.
____
He was stuck in traffic, extremely angered by the “Your speed” sign…Or more so the number: 4, a lowly four. He’ll bee there in 5 days time, just enough to be late and to lose his job, to use his own trucker’s speech. He was one pissed fother mucker.

He picked up the CB radio to warn his boss. “Home, Home this is Blue Boy.” He sneered at the name. He did not mean to be small nor was it his fault, but they just seemed to love to call him Little Boy Blue. His short stature was to blame, and his melancholy attitude on love set that in stone. “I got a backup near Pittsburg. ‘Gonna be ‘bout maybe hour, hour and a half tops.” He clicked the receiver back into place and looking out his window. Tuning out his boss, he snarled at the other side of the road, seeing it was moving an astounding 8 miles per hour in fits and stops. In one of those stops he glanced into a car, looking upon a girl.


His eyes widened.


To him she was an angel, her brown hair going down over her shoulder. When she smiled how her face lit up, her olive cheeks getting a tint of red to them. Her eyes, oh those eyes, he could lose himself in the deep brown orbs. They were so innocent, so happy. She hadn’t a care in the world. And when he looked upon her, nether did he. However she was young-couldn’t be more than 10- but she was beautiful.

He kept his gaze on her for as long as he could, flicking back and forth between her and the road. She still smiled at him, making him feel (for once in his life) wanted. He smiled back, feeling a little goofy, but she took the curse off that. She looked as though she was happy to see him, like he was the only one in the world. He loved that feeling; he loved her innocent looks, the way she lit up like a twelve hundred watt light bulb. They shared smiles, her mother grumbling at the traffic, moving forward but not enough to break their sights on each other.

He memorized her features, everything he could see out his window, every detail about her. The beauty mark right under her left eye, the dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, he memorized it all. She smiled happier than before, like she had just gained a friend. A secrete friend her mommy didn’t need to know about. She shone her teeth, whiter than pearls, he memorized that too.

But the cars continued to move and so she did as well. Her mother catching a glimpse at her and scolding her, so the little girl had to move away looking ahead. Not before giving him a winning smile that was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever done for him. He drove on, knowing he’d never see her again.

A wandering thought

Now, my friends, it should’ve ended there, the end, here take a gift basket. But it did not; he just had wandering thoughts about her. What was her name? How old was she? (and the most important) Would he ever see her again? He wanted all those questions answered and he would give anything to know, but…he wasn’t obsessed.

He imagined what her voice would be like, the innocent and angelic air that it must have. He created conversations in his mind, the smile creeping about his subtle features going unhidden. He thought what they might say to one another, how would her mind work? What thoughts does she have? These thoughts were just passing by, like the cars on her side of the road. But…no, he wasn’t obsessed.

What would her mother think? Was he a pervert? Just for loving? He though longer about that, no if he were a pervert he would think that way about ALL little girls. He knew he didn’t he’d hang out in the park watching little kids at play whilst enjoying a smoke. No, this girl was special, this…was love. He didn’t know if he could ever love again after this girl. Was he?. no he wasn’t obsessed?

His smile grew wider as he imagined having her to himself. He wouldn’t lay a finger on her if any fleeting thought of the word ‘no’ came to her head. But he would lavish her in the finest clothes and the prettiest toys. Oh how he would read to her; at night tales of knights on crusades and beautiful creatures. She would have a memory foam bed and, every night, he would kiss her soft lips, hold her hand and whisper “Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow; I will say ‘good night’ till it be morrow.” His eyes watered up in his dreams, now he was obsessed. But he did not care.

Though, now his eyes cried real tears.

“I’ll never have you.” He murmured to no one. His eyes blurred and he knew he couldn’t drive, nor did he want to, all he wanted right now was Her.

After several moments he turned into a parking lot of a bar. That traffic made him late, but he could make up for it in the morning. He just wanted to confide in his dear friend Friar Lawrence ale, with him he could excise his sorrows.

His mind dreamt again. Nightmares this time, every second made him want to down more ale, he dreamt of reality. He dreamt of talking to Her and speaking his love then it twisted into thorns when Her mother over heard and called the police. He would be exiled from her. In a small cell, far away from her beauty, that which teaches torches to shine.

After his 7th bottle of ale, Little Boy Blue stammered out into his truck. The CB screamed at him, his boss’ voice rang like that of an angered god.

“Where have you been?!” It screamed. “I have been trying to contact you for hours! Your delivery called and wants your load in 27 hours!”

Little Boy Blue picked up his radio and slurred his speech. “I’ll get right on it boss.” The voice of god began to speak but he turned the CB off. Shifting into gear, his engine revved. If he was to make it to Scranton he would have to drive most of the night. But without his Friar Lawrence ale, that emulates mental death, he is alive and can see.

The reality of his love, his eyes weep. He wished for Her name, to go mute saying it, Echo be jealous. He wiped his eyes and watched the sun set over the pavement. His vision blurred often and he swerved enough as it was.


Crash

He had hit something, dead on. It seemed now that the whole world was silent. He pulled his face back from the air bag, rubbing his forehead. The shock sobered him up. He looked around at the damage, the shipment was ruined and the car he hit was smashed.

Wait.

The car looks so familiar.

“No…” He whispered. Time took pity on him and slowed. He exited the cabin of his truck. “No, no.” His voice grew more vigorous, and tears welled in his eyes again. He ran to the car he hit. Head shaking his disbelief, he saw it.

No, he saw Her.

Like angels falling from heaven did his tears fall. On the face that made angels envy. His sobs were loud as he cradled the small frame.

“My love, my angel, Death has taken your sweet breath, no life to fill your frame, not a breath to fill your lungs.” His eyes compared to that of a waterfall. He clutched her small and bashed body to his own, rocking back and forth sobbing into her dark brown locks.

“I will never love again.” He whispered into her cold ear.


It was not long before the sirens of gumball machines filled the air, breaking the silence given to him for morning. The demons in bright blue suits came and took his love away. They stole him as well. He fought, traveling through a ditch and stealing a hand full of milkweed. The police hand cuffed him as he slipped the plants into his jacket. He had not denied killing his love.

He had swallowed the bitter and forgiving plants as they took him in to the cell.  

And now as he sits on the bench of a cell; his mouth remained shut to a man asking him questions.

Clunk

His large body hit the floor. And they rushed him to the hospital. He was DOA. No one knew his name.

And in that very same hospital in a ward off somewhere a pair of deep brown angelic eyes opened.
Hozalla! I am caught up with ALL my english work! And this is my Romeo and Julliet project, I'm testing it out on you poor souls first. Fuck I'm jsut so glad it's done and I don't have to work on it anymore that the fact it sucks ass doesn't bug me.


Meg; yeah yeah I know I'll like it later.
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vampgirl15000's avatar
At first I thought, "oh, great... more Lolita >_<" but it started to get really sad after that. You did a really nice job on this, I'm sure Mrs. Leon will think so as well. :aww: I really like how you depict things, like how his love "twisted into thorns," and how you threw in little Romeo and Juliet quotes. That last line, though... you really have a thing for those! When I read that line my heart just... twisted.
You really did an awesome job, so stop saying it sucks! You'd better like it later! :shakefist:
xDD You also kept with the Romeo and Juliet theme since he didn't bother checking for a pulse. xP