Sunday, July 29, 2012

Short stories

Don't ask me why I write the things I do.

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Her hair, dyed a bright red. "To improve her image," he had said.
Her glasses were at the side of the bed. She chose not to wear contacts whenever she could. Whenever it was her time and not theirs.
Her usually overdone makeup was wiped away by tears and spread all over my shirt.
Her high heels lied on opposite sides of the room, lying where she had bitterly flung them.

I preferred her without all of that. With it, she was just an object, working for just another guy. Without it, she was herself.

Other days, she belonged to them. Tonight, she was mine.
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So... this was it? All of this.. for today. I thought it would be better. I thought I would be crowned queen of the land, be adored by everyone and in the end enslave all of the people. I thought it would be fun. I got people killed because of me. I killed people myself. I deserve to be praised.

I guess it would never be easy getting what you want when you're Katniss Everdeen.
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