Harry Potter. It was playing Harry Potter...yet again. You know...the wizards didn’t bother me at first...what with my scarce entertainment and all...but you start playing them over, and over, and freaking over again, you really couldn’t give a shit less who gets the stone.
“You know...Morgan,” I said aloud, knowing I didn’t need her next to me for her to hear me. “You’re not doing a great job of keeping me sane. If you’re even trying.”
No response but from the grunt of my neighbor, who had finally figured out he couldn’t do anything about my talking. Without pain, of course. But what goes around comes around...I had to deal with his screeching in the same way. Personally, I think my talking is a little less obnoxious.
I turned away from Harry, toward the tree behind me. Feeling the bark, a sickeningly familiar female voice drifted my way from across the clearing.
Paper flowers...I linger in the door way of alarm clock screaming monsters calling my name.*
“Let me die,” I argued her next line.
Where the wind will whisper to me. Where the raindrops as they’re falling tell a story.
“What raindrops?” I growled, quiet enough for her not to hear.
It never rains here.
In my field of paper flowers, and candy clouds of lullaby.
“Is that really the only reason you sing that song?” I snapped, starting to claw my way up the tree.
And watch my purple sky fly over me.
“It’s blue, idiot,” I muttered, though I knew it was only a song.
Don’t say I’m out of touch...with this rampant chaos - your reality.
“And yours,” I shot back.
I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge. The nightmare I built my own world to escape.
“You think that world’s a nightmare?” I grumbled, now thinking of Morgan more so than the person actually singing.
In my field of paper flowers and candy clouds of lullaby, I lie inside myself for hours....
“I’m sure you do,” I agreed. “On the rare occurrence when you come here.”
“But she does come here,” the woman told me, stopping mid note...or whatever it was the she stopped in.
Ha! Not like I know shit about music. Not like I give a damn, either. When would I see an opera next? When hell freezes over.
“Really?” I said coldly, not in the mood to talk to her.
“Oh,” she gasped. “You can’t see the cottage, can you?”
“Piss off,” I told her.
“I do want to know what goes on in there,” she mused, ignoring my polite request.
“So go effing find out,” I hissed.
She snapped her head back up at me with a mixed expression of hurt and utter loathing. I would think she would have gotten to know me by then.
“And I will,” she smirked, plucking a paper flower away from its grassy home. “One day I will.”
“I sincerely wish you luck on your suicide mission,” I said, returning her smirk.
Ignoring me, she held the flower up to her face and waited, watching it transform into a fluttering bird. Yes, I’m sure I would be just as amazed as she looked, if I hadn’t seen it four hundred times.
“You can’t appreciate ambition, can you?” she asked.
“Okay,” I chuckled. “I get it, slitting your wrists gets old. Go ahead and find a new masochistic hobby.”
Her mouth gaped in horror and she shot up, looking tempted to risk her life already by coming over and bitch slapping me. As happy as that would have made me, I think Morgan would have gotten a little mad. The woman, however, only huffed and stormed off behind her wooden buildings, beginning to sing another song.
*Imaginary - Evanescence
Almost this entire story's based on that song. Which is weird, since it's an MCR fan-fic.