Well.. many many days ago, I started getting interested in this whole writing stories thing. I though of a lot of things, but always ended up starting over again. Well.. heres a bit of what I wrote. I'll admit I was kind of inspired by the mysterious mood in alot of the storied we read.
I've been here for almost an entire month and i still don't
know where i am. I can't remember anything. I have bruses all
over my body: on my arms and legs. I can't move much, but when i do, a sharp pain rushes through my body and accumulates at my back, increasing by the minute.
A really nice and pretty lady takes care of me. I've never seen her before in my life. Her hair is as brown as mine. She's tall and thin and has a voice of an angel. She talks to me all the time about how hard her life was. Apparently, she was diagnosed with cancer at a young age, but she looks as healthy as a 20 year old to me. She can ramble on for hours! I love it when she talks to me about her family. "Honey, i would die for my children even if they drive me crazy," she says. One of her little boys comes to visit me everyday. His name is Raphael. He always brings me candy; a basket full! He'll sit by my beside and talk to me about his big brother and sister. He hasn't seen them in a while and he misses his sisters hugs. But most of all he misses how much all three of them used to fight. He also talks alot about his father, "My daddy name is Kike and we play soccer before all the time and i love him alot even when he scream-ed at me. Cause grandpa say that daddy only scream cause he love me alot and i'm a little trouble 3 year old." His speaking isn't that great, but his stories are what keep me from dieing of boredom. At night he'll come tell me more stories and he won't leave until i fall "asleep". Then he tries to tuck me into bed(which usually takes him like 10 minutes), he kisses me on the cheek, and lays down beside me. He usually falls asleep laying on my arm and i'll just watch him lay there; so innocent and small. He must be an early bird for when i wake up in the morning, he's gone.
There's another man that lives here too, but he isn't here most of the time, and i rather him not. His presence is cold and breath taking. He wears a sad look all the time as if he's hurting and holding back the pain. Age has taken over his face, but his hair is as black as coal. Every now and then he comes into my room and gives me a look full of tenderness that at the same time sends a cold shivery chill down my back.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
