60.SchoolPack your bag and grab your books60.School6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Change to blind the dirty looks
Shut your mouth and fire your shrink
So they can teach you how to think
Close your eyes and pass your tests
So youll be just like all the rest
In a crowd you shant be seen
Another cog in the murder machine
Theyll mould you, in no time at all
To another brick in the corporate wall.
IndigoCharlie was athletic. Charlie was musical. Victorious and muscular, intelligent and artistic, he was my fathers pride and my mothers joy. Girls liked him, too. It was no secret at school that my brother was good looking. With his dark, longish hair and his classic chiselled features, how could he not be? The distance he kept from the crowd didnt do much to damage his appealing reputation, either. Charlie was aloof. Mysteriously so, and clearly this was interesting, judging by the amount of phone calls I answered from feminine voices shakily asking to speak to him, struggling to hide their girlish nervousness behind copious giggles. At first there was this pathetic hope that used to rise within me whenever I answered the phone, that maybe it was somebody wanting to speak to me that maybe I actually did have friends. That soon stopped, though. Youd be surprised at how many times a telephone can ring in an afternoon.Indigo6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Charlie, however, remained
62.EagleMary was crazy. She never cared what anybody thought, nor did she ever think about what anyone might care for. She just lived. She was temperamental and almost strategically spontaneous, but at least she was alive. She was wild. She was real. She always won at Truth or Dare, somehow twisting all the truth from it and putting more and more pressure on me until I cracked. I was always the one who cracked. Shed beat me at poker over and over again, and at life. She never seemed to give up on pushing me further and further toward the edge, but at least she was original. She was somebody .62.Eagle6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
and anybody whos somebody would want to get out of this dump , she said, for about the millionth time, puckering up her little face as we all packed into the Gore hall on the last day of school.
The teachers motioned for us to shut up, and we did, sort of, before the final hymn began. Completely distracted, we half-heartedly hummed along to it. The key was