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Shin Hyakuji High School Tvtropes
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
The Book that is Hyakuji's Story has come to a close. However, there are still plenty of stories left to be told in the madcap Anime Universe it inhabits. As one book closes, so too does another open. Presented by veteran Hyakuji Staff Members, check out the next generation EVOLUTION of "Anything-Goes" Anime Roleplaying at Senki Academy
| Drunk Knocking | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 2 2009, 02:40 AM (292 Views) | |
| Ewan | Oct 2 2009, 02:40 AM Post #1 |
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This is something I wrote about a year ago or so. I was originally gonna perform it as a spoken prose piece for my theatre class, but couldn't, as it wasn't actually a published work. Anyways, enjoy, leave feedback. Or don't...your call. ------------ I couldn’t remember that word for the life of me at the time. The time when I needed to remember it the most. It aggravates me now, realizing the simplicity of it. Of course, I had a few excuses. It had been a little dark that night, and I had been kind of depressed over the loss of what I was back then calling, ‘My dream girl.’ I guess she kind of still is. Unfortunately, she’s too far gone for me to bring her back with anything I have. Depressed, check. As a result of the depression, I was also a little smashed. And that was when I made the irrational decision to show up at her front door. Drunk, check. Again, looking back, it was a terrible idea. Had that been avoided, I might still be with her. I remember knocking lousily on the wooden door, far too loudly for the time of night. At least it’s not raining..., I remember muttering, it had been forecasted to, but everyone knew that the meteorologist was new. It wasn’t long before I heard stirring behind the door. The unlocking of the door accompanied by the sliding off of the chain. It wasn’t a smart move on her part, considering the time of night. After the door was open and she realised who the drunken, dishevelled mess was on her porch, she gasped my name. “Alex?” She asked, surprised, “What are you doing out this late?” She seemed concerned. That had surprised me more. At least she still cared for me. I could only sigh a drunken sigh before answering, “I uh...” I managed not to slur, “I mish you,” I was leaning against the door post for support. And it wasn’t in a stylish or charming way, I was leaning into it with my shoulder, eyes half-closed as I looked at her. She was looking at me back, arms crossed now, realising what this was all about. She was a very independent woman, and she never was one to back down on her decisions. “Alex...” She started, but I interrupted with a strong, clumsy, dismissive wave of my arm. “No!” I said a little louder than necessary, putting my foot down, I would get this out, “I...realise...I made a few mishtakes. And no, I shouldn’t have...talked to your friend the way I did.” I was talking to the ground then. I couldn’t make eye contact with her, blushing out of guilt as I had been. After I was finished stating what I had to state, I looked back at her, eyes full of genuine compassion. “Alex,” She almost hesitated, I noticed it even in my drunken state, “I will give you one more chance.” I smiled, but too soon, “If, you can say my full name.” “Huh?” I had been too busy thanking God to hear what she had said, and I frowned as she repeated it. “I told it to you once or twice, Alex. If you can tell me my first, middle, and last name, I will give you one more chance.” I strived to remember, so hard I tried. It was as if Fate was blocking off that memory. I knew it, something told me I did, but I simply couldn’t grasp it. I knew it was swimming somewhere in the pool of random information that was my mind, but I was having bad luck fishing, probably because of the overcast depression and slightly polluted water produced via those few Screwdrivers I had slammed down in the past hours. “It’s...” I knew it, but couldn’t say it. I couldn’t grab it. I knew two at least, “Cassandra...something...Davidson.” I would want to kick myself later. ‘Something’, was not her middle name. All I saw of her ever again was her shaking her head and slowly closing the door. She wasn’t mad, she was disappointed. And that probably hurt more than anything else. Now, I have a notebook full of poems dedicated to love lost. The name, Sarah Cassandra Davidson, found everywhere within the College ruled pages. It was so simple. |
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| Nauticah | Oct 2 2009, 06:38 PM Post #2 |
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Popped the Character / RP Cherry
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It's...sad, and yet I'm kinda laughing, because I'm the type of girl who asks someone to tell me my eye color or my full name, because so often they never listen. >P ;~; POOR ALEX, THOUGH! He was just drunk off his rocker, three sheets to the wind, he can't help it if his brain refuses to work! :< Meanie girl, not giving him a proper chance. *cuddlies Alex* *and Ewan, of course!* Edited by Nauticah, Oct 2 2009, 06:38 PM.
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