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The petals scatter like glass tears | Anja



 

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 The petals scatter like glass tears | Anja

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MessageSujet: The petals scatter like glass tears | Anja   Lun 22 Aoû - 20:54




Tonight is a pretty clear night. The stars are shining with the lack of moon. Without Sixtine noticing, her steps lead her to the cemetery, the city’s one and only cemetery. When she first arrived in Beverly Hills, it seemed completely impossible to bury all these dead people in such a small area. Still she hasn’t understood how they managed to do it. Perhaps the corpses are piled up under the ground. There may even be one ready to burst out to light right now. Pretty scary and exciting at the same time, exactly as in the horror novels she likes to read at night. Scariness holds no influence on her. Every time she need a little walk on her own, this is where she comes. Like every cemetery, this one has a eerie and peaceful atmosphere at the same time. Usually, since she comes here at night, there’s nobody else than her and the dead. It’s been for months now and she feels like she knows the alleys like the back of her hand. Earlier again, she had a small fight with the organizers of the rehab program she was part of, a fight which ended with Sixtine leaving the room like a hurricane, nearly breaking the door in the process. She had once again hit the ceiling after the brunette supposedly taking care of her told her she had absolutely no chance in succeeding in singing and that she would do better selling her own body. As if she knew what she was talking about. Sixtine could have hit her, hit her hard, but instead she had preferred the flight option, highly recommended if she didn’t want to be sent somewhere else on this goddamn planet.

There she is, sat against a gravestone. Her eyes are tightly shut, the headphones on her ears cutting her from the outer world. If someone was talking to her, she wasn’t noticing. The volume was so loud that maybe the inhabitant on the ground under her was listening to the same music. She smiles at this thought and opens her amber eyes. Enough music. What time is it? Nearly two in the morning. She doesn’t even remember when she arrived. Maybe a few hours ago because when she sat here, it was hardly dawn. Sighing, she gets up, taking the headphones off and putting it away in her bag. The silence surrounds her all of a sudden, hitting hard and strong. But at the same time, it was appeasing. Simply dressed in a white tank top, worn-out jeans and sneakers, she starts walking through the graves, brushing the stones with the fingertips. She immediately calmed down when she arrived here a few hours ago. It doesn’t matter whether someone believes in her or not, so long as she believes in herself. Even though it would have be a relief if someone supported her, one cannot always have what one desires. She keeps on walking, disturbing the silence by only the noises of her footsteps on the cobblestones strewn with dead leaves. Everything is dead in a cemetery, even the trees planted there. Even she is dead, or at least that is how she has been feeling for five years. If she had been in Japan, she could have gone where he was buried and talk to him. Maybe she would have felt better than now, somehow relieved. She would have been near him, not so far.

Feeling the tears run to her eyes, she blows harshly and rubs her eyes until they hurt. No need to cry, no need to think about him anymore. He’s not here, not even in heaven or hell because we all know none of them exist, or at least Sixtine does not believe in them. There are tears falling down her cheeks. She should have held on to him tight. She just wanted to hold him back so he wouldn’t leave. One hand reaffirms its grip on the bag while the other one barely hides her face tainted with tears. Something takes her out of her loneliness. A noise. The soft noise of footsteps not so far from where she stands. Turning back suddenly as she is rubbing her cheeks, making the tears disappear, she peers into the darkness, seeing nothing. When she calls, her voice is shaking:
    Hey? Anyone here?


Premier RP en anglais, YEAH !
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MessageSujet: Re: The petals scatter like glass tears | Anja   Lun 12 Sep - 20:16



I don't even know what time it is. Actually, I don't care. All I want is going home, and reach my bed as soon as possible. I partied a part of the night, and... I think I drank too much. There was some guys that proposed me to take me home... But I'm not naive, even when I'm a bit drunk. Why did I go there, already ? Aah. Yeah. It was for a friend. I guess. I can't really remember.

So here I am. Walking down the street, on my own. Maybe my headache's gonna stop once I'll get home. Maybe. I hate when I'm used to drink at parties... Feeling weak is annoying me and I could do some shit down here. Even when I look at the building around me, I can't recognize the area. Where the fuck am I ? Oh mom, I'm starting to get angry. Alcohol makes me angry all the time, why can't I always remember ? Anja... You're such a badass. And now, seems that you're lost in Beverly.
Now, time to stop walking. There's no reason to walk if you don't even know where you're going to. Slowly, I take off my low leeled shoes. I bought it yesterday, and it starting to hurt. Super... As my headache wasn't enough. I'm cursed. This never happened in Oslo. I didn't have to wear a pretty dress when I was going to a party. Wait. Rewind. I never went to parties before, because people were scared of me. Seems that I forgot that. I was supposed to begin a new life on Beverly... So it wasn't too bad to forget this part of my life even if I don't regret it. Only fools have regrets.

Okay. Look around you, Anja. What do you see except buildings and cars. Flowers. Nah... Oh, there are two guys at the next street corner... And a cemetery. Now Anja, think about what is more dangerous. Walking next to these guys when you're drunk or try to find your way across dead people. Maybe the second option is better. Alright. Let's go then.

Barefooted, shoes in a hand, handbag in the other one, I'm starting my trip across the Beverly's Cemetery. It makes me laugh. Children would get scared here, but I'm not. I don't believe in ghost, zombies, vampire or whatever makes people run away from cemetery at night. Actually, this place is probably saving right now. This is the first time that I'm walking here. Sometimes I try to read what's written on the graves, but the moonlight doesn't really help.
There I stop, next to a little grave, probably a child's one. I'm starting to think about Oslo. I miss my town. I miss my country. Ah. Alcohol. Just try to stop thinking. No. Don't try. DO IT. Stop thinking, seriously. And now, keep walking. Go home fast and sleep. Tommorow is another day. Thanks to god, there is some trees that can hide me if there is some gothics kid doing rituals here. They won't see me and couldn't use me as a sacrifice... That idea makes me laugh. Who would try to touch me ? Ain't I the most dangerous Norwegian chick here, in America ? But again, I'm used to stop, because someone is talking, and it's not far away from me. The voice was shaking, but I clearly heard...

«  Hey, anyone here ? »

I recognized the voice. Wasn't it that yellow lady ? Oh sorry. Japanese. Trying to find where she was standing, I started to laugh loudly. That was a fucking coincidence. Why did I have to find THAT girl here ? Finally, thanks to the moonlight – seems that moon is not that useless... - I found her, standing next to a grave. Motionless. Was she scared ? I would never had imagined that a proud girl like Sixtine... could be scared of a little noise behind her, in a cemetery. I moved forward cautiously so she could see me. Starting to smile, fake smile of course, my voice was happy as always.

«  Hey, Blondie ! What'cha doing here ? »

I fold my arms and my smile barely disapear. Why should I smile to her ? Ah. Yeah. Need need to be friendly here... My turn to be motionless.

«Are a kind of satanist ? Trying to bring you ex boyfriend from the deads ? »

Ok that was mean. But I had an excuse : Alcohol. And only fools wouldn't smell it.
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The petals scatter like glass tears | Anja

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