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»Prompts and chinese
Tuesday, 21 February 2012

I was really fucking bored in chinese. So I asked Hui Xuan for a prompt so that I could write a drabble.I think it turned out pretty good, if a bit rushed. So I ask some people to read it and they can't read my atrocious handwriting.
I planned on typing it onto blogger so I could share it that way instead.
I left the paper in school.
I'm a colossal moron.
I'm writing it back from scratch and a vague memory of what Hui Xuan's prompt was。
I hate hate hate him. The sight of him brings my blood to a boil, fury rising in my throat. I want to tell him to go fuc- No. Control. I Must keep my emotions in control.  Logic would, no, will triumph over hot blooded passion. Foolish, foolish man, him and his ideals! I will kill him, before he gets to me.
I will not be Daniel.
What I wrote:
How dare he? How dare he stand up so straight, as if he was still human? As if he had any right to stand while Daniel's body lays cold! The smug bastard, I can see it in his eyes! He wears his guilt like a badge of honour...he thinks I don't know. HahahabutIknowknowledgeissuccessisweaponbutstillcoldstillrottingstillNOT


He stands tall with his head bowed low and I almost burst out laughing. How can they not see?

"Today we mourn the loss of Daniel Emseen, who died of unidentified reasons...'


I want to shout, scream, push that snake onto the ground where he belongs and tear at his face until he's nothing but a bloody mess and every bit as dead as Daniel but a thousand times wor-bloodlustbloodragebloodmoregorepain!RETRIBUTIONMURDERBETRAYAL! RESTRAINT!




His time will come. Soon, but not now. I will not taint Daniel's final goodbye with blood. Especially not his. He walks over to my side, the scum. He mutters half assed condolences, sympathies with no meaning and it is all I can do not to react. Keeping my face carefully blank, I act as if he's talking to the woman on his other side. She's weeping heavily, an aunt, perhaps?
As soon as he is silent, I make my way to the casket. I feel his eyes following me around, the scumbag. His mother, my mother-in-law, is crying, great heaving sobs. I reach out to give a reassuring squeeze on her should-

'It is indeed regrettable, that the body of his beloved wife cannot be with him...'


'Despite many days of searching. She is however, presumed dea...'

Looking around, nobody seems to react to this news. But I'm here! I'm alive! I"m, I'm...

I turn to look at him. He says not a word but raises a finger to his lips...
words spilled @ Tuesday, February 21, 2012 / leave goosebumps here