55 word storyRona was five foot one with big city dreams. Matt invented nightmares in his sleep.
Rona was a magnet for bad luck. Matt didn't believe in luck--only impeccable planning.
Rona got drunk on city lights and the rare providence she'd stumbled upon.
Matt'd been lucky that day, too.
By dawn, Rona was a corpse.
Even then, I knew it was going to be me who was really gonna mess him up. I could tell by the way the flames of the five candles on his birthday cake seemed to get stuck in his eyes; by the way I hated him for having eyes so susceptible to light--to hope. I remember how he'd squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip before extinguishing the candles. He looked so cute it was disgusting. See, I don't like innocent things. Ink is best on a white canvas, and people are best without their light, because, I figure, if I can't hide my true colors with it, no one should be able to. Not even my own brother. Not even--
Not even the kid who looks up to everything I do; the kid who looks into my eyes like there's still something there.
For once, I'd done something right as a big brother. I'd stuck up for him, if only because my mother had ordered me to. I didn't really want to protect Eric; after
02. sticks and stonesI woke up this morning with a clear understanding of how things worked--work. There are the kids who get by being awkward, and there are kids like me, who don't. I don't really know what it is. Well, I'd be lying if I said I believed that. It's probably a lot of things. Maybe it's the zits on my face, or the fact that my hair can't seem to decide whether to be curly or straight. Maybe it's the way I tend to trip over my words and never know the right ones when I need them. Maybe it's because I'm different from them, plain and simple. Maybe, when god or whatever made me, he forgot a certain x value and I ended up coming short.
Whatever it is, I don't fit in, no matter how hard I try. You see the kids who pride themselves with wearing mismatched clothes and keeping their hair unkempt--the kids who try to be different. But they're not really so different from anyone
01. letterdear stranger,
i'm fifteen years old and i still have no idea how to be a girl.
why do the singers always write about the same things? is falling in love really that special?
these days, most girls who are my age have boyfriends--or at least a boy interest. most of them would swear the boy they're with is their soulmate. but me, i'd swear most boys these days think with their dicks and not their heads.
i find kissing gross. does that make me unkissable? (i sure hope not.)
my teenage years are going down the toilet. i need to do something crazy.
what is it that kids my age are supposed to do? sneak into concerts? get kicked out of the mall? get high? oh, dear god, am i supposed to fall in love?
is it normal to be nostalgic for things that never happened?
is it normal t
soundThe skies warn of thunderstorms.
The rain strikes chords to words we cannot say. It leaves a lonely afterglow.
Everything is blank.
Phelia - PrologueWhen did the tweaking of one's genes first become popular around the world?
List three examples of how people chose to modify their genes.
People modified their genes by changing their eye color, changing their hair color, and, though the procedure was faulty, changing their facial structure. The changing of one's facial structure sparked controversy, for modifying such a significant category of genes made the person having the procedure done less related to his or her parents, in a sense.
Why were purple eyes not allowed?
Maius Centric, the man considered the father of genetic mutation, made the wealthy business owners he sold his research to swear an oath to never manufacture the gene for purple eyes, else his offer is withdrawn. He claimed to have dreamt of terrible devastation at the hands of pale skinned soldiers with purple eyes. The business owners honored their promise. Besides, purple genes were diffic