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Writing ee Mys

Trigun 11

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[COLOR="DarkRed"][SIZE="1"][COLOR="Black"]Random snippet I'm occasionally adding onto when I have the time.
Criticism wanted, and is appreciated.[/COLOR]
Delicate little step here, and there; she pranced through the graveyard on her toes, trying to avoid the monstrous thorns that threatened her tender feet and to avoid catching the then leather strip across her ankle. Any onlooker would have said something stupid like 'you should have known better', but truth be told, she didn't. She hated wearing shoes. And anyone who knew her well would know that, but the sad thing was, nobody here knew her well at all. She was like a ghost among humans, just wafting around and drifting through their lives as unnoticed as she was when she came. Of course, she was okay with that, but she was only human, and the loneliness was beginning to take it's toll on the little woman. Every now and then she caught herself thinking about what it would be like to be like to be able to talk to someone else. To be able to share things, do things, even just sit there and do nothing would suffice for her. In fact, she'd probably be good at it, she could say a lot without words. As she pranced through the graves, the flowers she held bobbed lightly along with her body movement. Perhaps people would assume that she was here to visit her mother, or friend. Wrong again. She was here simply to talk to someone that might possibly be listening.

The girl always did believe in the possibility of life after death, so she was hoping that wherever these people may be, in their parallel universe or whatever, they could hear her. That would have been nice. As she passed she read the names on the variously shaped tombstones. There were so many different shapes here it astounded her. Elegant angels rose higher than she could ever hope to be. Big crosses with delicate engravings stood like sentinels above their graves, and every now and then there would be a cherub or some sort of small child with wings. She didn't like those. It reminded her of dead children. She wasn't into that whole 'innocence lost' thing. She was always upset when she saw children's deaths on the news. They were so young, they had so much more to experience, and now thanks to some idiot, or some disease, they would never be able to live their little dreams. Adison Harper, Benjamin Harper, Susanne LeBlance, Trevor Oxford, May Dax. The names just kept on going and going, as she wove in and out of the orderly lines that the graves were arranged in. What upset her about this graveyard was that it actually looked morbid and sad.

Nobody had watered the grass here in ages, so it was dry and brown and overrun with thorns. The thought that nobody could give a shit enough to just come here and water the plants made her angry. Perhaps she would take her time off and do it herself when nobody was watching. Like late at night. She chuckled softly as she imagined the scared faces of little boys as they dared one another to venture into the graveyard. When she was young, she had always gone willingly. She was always the small framed little girl who would go the furthers for the longest, never scared in the least. With the height of 5?8, she was still small where she originated. Towering over her like a giant black guardian, she reached back and tugged upwards so the bo staff strapped to her back wasn?t caught on the thorns as she danced amongst them. When she had reached back, she had wrapped her small hand around small jewels that were near the middle of the staff. Nothing extravagant, just a plethoric range of dark red, navy and emerald green colored stones scattered amongst it. She figured it was all just mind over matter. After all, there was really nothing out there that was going to get you.

Adelaide Harrison. She stopped, facing the simple headstone. Curved at the top and straight down the edges it bore her name, and of course, the dates of both her birth and death. She was seventy one when she died. And underneath her dates there was a small, beautiful inscription. 'I shall not fear'. She smiled, kneeling down on her knees and laying the dried up roses beneath the tombstone that she had scooped up a few grave stones ago. For a few moments she just sat in silence, picturing the old woman's face. Kind and sweet. She didn't think that Adelaide was one of those grumpy old hags suffering from Tourettes or something like that. There was a good aura around her now. She smiled. "Fearless, Mrs Harrison." She murmured, reaching forwards and tracing the womans carved name with her fingertips. She absently felt the entire stone before clasping her hands in her pockets and gazing upon it again, the cold metal of the ring not registering with the female as she just sat there. Doing what? Playing with pocket lint.

As of right now, her's thoughts were more dangerous then her being by herself. Sure, she was known back in the day to do some pretty crazy stuff when she was alone, and that's only because alone she was free to fully listen and react to her thoughts, but she had learned to control herself...somewhat. She actually tried to get a hold of herself so much more now, since her whole problem actually had a name. Not that that mattered, though. It only made her feel stupid for believing and just stupid herself. The fact that half of the things she worries about aren't real doesn't help her with the whole self-esteem thing. It basically just makes her think she's crazy. Some psycho that belongs in one of those mental hospitals. It just brought her down a little harder on herself. ?Big baby." she muttered to herself, finding that was exactly what she was turning out to be.

She whined to herself, she hates when others whine to her when they?re thinking they are in trouble and then whines when they both realize nothing is wrong and they get mad at her. She never knows what's fake, thinks everything is real. It was getting out of hand for her, and she hated it. Who wouldn't? It wasn't the sunniest day out today, which only meant that sitting on the cold ground of a graveyard wasn't a very warm experience for her at the moment. The air only made her colder than what she was before, and before she was cold because she hadn't had the experience in a while of just remaining outside at night only at will, wearing only a black sweater to protect her arms and a pair of pants for her legs. She had a scarf on but had dropped it somewhere on her walk from the street to the cemetary, and noticed it was gone. She?d get it later, she?d mentally note. The hood of her sweater was on her head, she was leaning forward in an uncomfortable manner, and her arms crossed around eachother and squeezing in an attempt to keep some heat in as she still played with the pocket lint in her pockets.

The more that she thought about it now, the more the nineteen year old felt herself acting like a little kid. She couldn't properly dress herself for a day that wasn't even very cold. She doesn't like to do nearly anything by herself, and sometimes just can't because she hesitates to do so too much, and when she speaks sometimes she sounds like an alien who has no clue what is going on in the world. She felt like she was descending in age instead of growing more mature, but of course she had to cover that up from everyone else. Or at least attempt to. It seemed like she was doing a good job, but most people don't consider avoiding as many people as you know because you fear something bad will happen as growing, or covering anything up... Whatever floats her's boat, eh? It didn't take long for her to slowly rock back and forth in a weak attempt to warm herself up. The female kept her eyes plastered to the stone, doing the best she could to ignore any other thoughts that were creeping to her mind. One in particular was that someone was going to come up behind her and possibly hurt her. She wasn't too worried about being hurt yet, because that part of the fear would come if someone really did come up to her.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
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