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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
September 21, 2009
witch wicked a like spells she by *ChloroformBoy reads like a delicious black comedy with several unique twists.
Featured by LadyLincoln
Suggested by bekkia
Literature Text
6
and he cried.
She spelt ‘loving’ wrong,
sorry but i could never stop loveng you
He picked it up, holding back tears, and the note on the dresser read:
As he was about to leave the room, he noticed something, a paper, on her nightstand.
5
He found her hanging from a rope above her bed, her flawless eyes rolled over, her neck slanted.
He managed his way into a door marking her room. It was ajar, so he pushed it and went inside.
I’m sure she’ll be home any minute now. He reassures himself, tapping his platinum wristwatch.
Oh, she’s only two minutes late. She’s probably proving a point that she’s human; she’s imperfect.
Getting more worried with every empty second, he double-checked his watch. Seven oh two.
“Hello?!” He cried, not assuming the worst. “Anybody home?” He shrugged, climbing upstairs.
He knocked on her door. No answer. The door was unlocked, so he went inside.
4
One might find this ironic for she was rather odd, in a sense, but she sips gallons of irony daily.
This bugged her severely for she hated odd numbers; if they weren’t even, they were inconsistent.
She counted the kitchen tiles until her mom left the house. There were exactly ninety-seven tiles.
“I’m really sorry I can’t make it.” But she didn’t mind. In fact, she was glad her mom wouldn’t be there.
“Yeah,” she lied. “D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-Y.” She feigned a laugh as she spelt the sickening word.
“Honey,” her mom said, “are you getting ready for your little school contest?”
3
She hung up without realizing how awkward his mouth went. He still went over anyway.
“For once, please, could you not be so, so annoyingly precise.”
“But I spell-check everything, making sure it’s accurate. I’m a perfectionist, but I can’t help it.”
“Forget a comma; misspell a word. You’re not as perfect as you think you are. You can’t be.”
“Excuse me?” She said, slightly offended (well, more than slightly, but she convinced herself otherwise.)
“I’m excited to finally talk to you,” he said. “Just promise me you won’t be so Perfect.
He called her at five-o-clock sharp. Two hours before their ‘meet’.
2
What she didn’t know was he secretly admired her but was too shy to ask her out.
and she’d ditch the bee. To her surprise, he happily accepted. This was his chance, he thought.
She wrote a note and put it on a dresser. Her plan ? Invite him over. Her last night in town,
The only problem: her crush. Him.
She wanted to leave for good. Forget that pesky competition.
The night of the spelling bee, that very windy night, she had packed her bags.
1
He was different; she just couldn’t place her finger on why . . .
the only one that didn’t notice her, but for some reason she felt attracted to him.
Okay, well not everybody. That’s an exaggeration. But there was this one boy...
She had it all, and everyone envied her juxtaposition of straight A’s and good looks.
valedictorian, almost international spelling bee champion, prom queen.
She was the most popular girl in her school:
and he cried.
She spelt ‘loving’ wrong,
sorry but i could never stop loveng you
He picked it up, holding back tears, and the note on the dresser read:
As he was about to leave the room, he noticed something, a paper, on her nightstand.
5
He found her hanging from a rope above her bed, her flawless eyes rolled over, her neck slanted.
He managed his way into a door marking her room. It was ajar, so he pushed it and went inside.
I’m sure she’ll be home any minute now. He reassures himself, tapping his platinum wristwatch.
Oh, she’s only two minutes late. She’s probably proving a point that she’s human; she’s imperfect.
Getting more worried with every empty second, he double-checked his watch. Seven oh two.
“Hello?!” He cried, not assuming the worst. “Anybody home?” He shrugged, climbing upstairs.
He knocked on her door. No answer. The door was unlocked, so he went inside.
4
One might find this ironic for she was rather odd, in a sense, but she sips gallons of irony daily.
This bugged her severely for she hated odd numbers; if they weren’t even, they were inconsistent.
She counted the kitchen tiles until her mom left the house. There were exactly ninety-seven tiles.
“I’m really sorry I can’t make it.” But she didn’t mind. In fact, she was glad her mom wouldn’t be there.
“Yeah,” she lied. “D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-Y.” She feigned a laugh as she spelt the sickening word.
“Honey,” her mom said, “are you getting ready for your little school contest?”
3
She hung up without realizing how awkward his mouth went. He still went over anyway.
“For once, please, could you not be so, so annoyingly precise.”
“But I spell-check everything, making sure it’s accurate. I’m a perfectionist, but I can’t help it.”
“Forget a comma; misspell a word. You’re not as perfect as you think you are. You can’t be.”
“Excuse me?” She said, slightly offended (well, more than slightly, but she convinced herself otherwise.)
“I’m excited to finally talk to you,” he said. “Just promise me you won’t be so Perfect.
He called her at five-o-clock sharp. Two hours before their ‘meet’.
2
What she didn’t know was he secretly admired her but was too shy to ask her out.
and she’d ditch the bee. To her surprise, he happily accepted. This was his chance, he thought.
She wrote a note and put it on a dresser. Her plan ? Invite him over. Her last night in town,
The only problem: her crush. Him.
She wanted to leave for good. Forget that pesky competition.
The night of the spelling bee, that very windy night, she had packed her bags.
1
He was different; she just couldn’t place her finger on why . . .
the only one that didn’t notice her, but for some reason she felt attracted to him.
Okay, well not everybody. That’s an exaggeration. But there was this one boy...
She had it all, and everyone envied her juxtaposition of straight A’s and good looks.
valedictorian, almost international spelling bee champion, prom queen.
She was the most popular girl in her school:
Literature
you can't feel through fabric
tonight the rain becomes the earth
falling from hidden spaces in the sky and swollen clouds
i hear it make mud of dirt, and lovers of friends
and ask, quiet, where are you going but down?
im not all there in the head
youre not all there in the head, my mother says
im not all there in the head i repeat
sometimes im there in my toes and fingers and heart as well
and now - in this downpour moment- i lie on the street
so warm that i think well thats where loves gotten to
but where is your shirt n? oh someplace else
and is that a light flickering in the house across the road? hide!
i rush in soaken w
Literature
People Are Awful
People Are Awful
If Id known what was going to happen that day, I probably would have broken up with him by phone. Its not even my problem. Its Bens problem. He was late. Hes always late. Not so much now, but anyway. He was late, and he knew Id be angry. But I wasnt angry because I knew that all I was going to say to him was:
Its over, were finished, Im ending it, I never want to see you again, were breaking up, you disgust me, Im leaving, dont call me.
So it didnt bother me whether he was five minutes o
Literature
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.
-
sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.
i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.
"why do you lie to everyone?" you
ask.
"why not?" i reply.
-
i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someon
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wonk neve t'nod i
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etnorB yb deripsni
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etnorB yb deripsni
© 2009 - 2024 ChloroformBoy
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This is a stunning piece that had me captivated the moment I started. A great piece not only through how it touches its readers but through conventions as well. Wonderfully written there is definitely a wonderful aspect about being able to comprehend a piece forwards and in reverse. A constant reminder of the pains of love and the impact of living a life; this piece is both down to earth and surreal. There are very few grammatical errors that are only sought out if looking in the right places and following strict rules. The artist is a genius and a mastermind for creating such an intelligent piece full of interesting points to ponder with others and to search the soul.