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 Firewood

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Gustyfoot
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DO YOU LIKE TACO'S?

Why, I love tacos, Gust
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PostSubject: Re: Firewood   February 25th 2015, 2:57 pm

Cool

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 You have been touched

"I will fight! I will! I will fight until my heart stops beating and my paws stop working! You look upon me and see just a tiny cat! But you do not see the fighting spirit! You know why I fight even when there is no hope?! Because my clan is my hope and I made a promise. A promise that I would protect everyone in nightclan, and I intend to keep it! The clan may not make a cat but the cats make a clan and we are Nightclan!"

-Gustyfoot
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Bloodtalon
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Mood : hey guys guess what i'm inactive and also very boy i am boy i hope you know what i mean I AM BOY I WANT TO BE BOY I AM FTM
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PostSubject: Re: Firewood   February 25th 2015, 3:08 pm

I was disgusted while writing this chapter xD

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Bloodtalon
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Mood : hey guys guess what i'm inactive and also very boy i am boy i hope you know what i mean I AM BOY I WANT TO BE BOY I AM FTM
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PostSubject: Re: Firewood   February 25th 2015, 10:34 pm

I was deciding on a story based around The A Team by Ed Sheeran, but if I can't do Take Me to Church, I sure as heck can't do The A Team (if you don't know what its about...its a homeless girl. Doing things. Bad things.)

I think I might do Mad World by Gary Jules or The Whole World and You by Tally Hall or Himinninn er að hrynja,en stjörnurnar fara þér vel by Òlafer Arnalds (Rough translation-the sky is collapsing , but the stars go lucky)

The one in Icelandic would be similar to this one, about Alzheimers, but with an elderly couple, the wife dying of her disease as her husband talks about their lives together as children playing in the park where they first met, the woman asking him how she could forget such unforgettable knowledge.

You all should listen to these songs and see which one you think would be best.

I'm definitely doing Music Box by Regina Spektor.

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Bloodtalon
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Mood : hey guys guess what i'm inactive and also very boy i am boy i hope you know what i mean I AM BOY I WANT TO BE BOY I AM FTM
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PostSubject: Re: Firewood   February 25th 2015, 11:16 pm

Chapter 7

It had been a year since Axel and I had went to the café. My mother had been admitted into a hospital after I went to her room one morning and she didn't know that I was her daughter. She is being tested for Alzheimer's Disease/Dementia. I don't know what to think anymore.

My father has moved into his new wife's penthouse uptown. I hate him even more now. She bought him a brand new car, worth around $25,000. I hope he dies when he wrecks in it, or rots in jail for a stolen car, because that piece of crap probably stole it from some helpless old woman. Just like she stole my father from Mother.

Axel loves me, but I fear he won't much longer. He says he will, and that someday he'll buy me a big diamond ring that sparkles just as much as my eyes. But when he's angry, he hits me, says that he doesn't love me. I don't even love me anymore.

My mother loves me, she just doesn't remember that she does. I can't say my piano loves me. It sounds alive, right? Doesn't mean it is. So I have no one. No one...

I went to my car and drove to the hospital to see my mother. Nobody was going to see her except me, maybe Axel. Father didn't care, and everyone else she loved was dead. She was an only child,  like me, and she herself was old enough to be a grandmother, so she didn't have living parents.

As I entered, I noticed that she was sleeping,  so I crept over to her bedside and sat in the uncomfortable chair beside her. Her hair had gone grey already, and she had frown lines and crow's feet and wrinkles. She smoked when she was upset, so it didn't help her. She was like a cake; her face was so sweet when she was younger, so perfectly detailed. But as she got older, her beauty was deteriorating. But I thought she was striking, even at 60.

Her hand was on the side-bar as she slept. An I.V. was firmly placed inside the bend of her arm, and I held that hand, that brittle, frail hand. I kissed that boney, rugged hand. Her grip tightened, and I looked at her miserable face. Her eyes were open. They were bluer than before from the cateracts and the lack of melanin.

She looked at me with those eyes and I broke down. She stroked my hair with her other hands. "It'll be okay, Delilah. You'll get that job." I cried harder.  Delilah was her best friend. Passed in a car wreck when I was around 7. Mother didn't remember me, and she thought I was Delilah.

I just let her call me that. If I denied her thoughts, she'd yell and the CNAs would take me out so I wouldn't upset her. I didn't want to leave her. I dried my tears with my empty hand, my eyeliner smearing onto my hand.

I looked at her. "How're you doing, Mother?" Her smile of joy darkened into a scowl, and she jerked her trembling hand away from my lovingly firm grip. "Mother?" I asked. She looked furious.

"Get out." She snapped. "I am not your mother." I cried again. She smacked me as hard across the face as her feeble hand could. I cried harder, holding my cheek. She shrieked, "GET OUT!" Pressing the button that alerted the nurses on the remore she had, they rushed in, grabbing me.

They threw me out of her room and I screamed, "Mother...!"

I could hear her yelling at the nurses as they gave her anesthesics to get her to fall asleep so they could get her to shut up. A doctor went over to me as I stood beside my mother's hospital door, broken and empty.

"Mrs. Waters?" He asked. I nodded. "Don't be upset. I'll have your mom home by next week if you can drive her home." I looked at him and gave him a hug, crying onto his blue uniform.

"Thank you so much..." I sobbed.

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Bloodtalon
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Mood : hey guys guess what i'm inactive and also very boy i am boy i hope you know what i mean I AM BOY I WANT TO BE BOY I AM FTM
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PostSubject: Re: Firewood   February 25th 2015, 11:40 pm

Chapter 8

I drove home, breathing rugged from crying. I went home and ran up the steps, to the lounge. I put firewood in the furnace and lit the flames. I looked over at my piano eagerly and sat down, playing the song my mother love so, so much. It was a truly beautiful song. I sang along.

"The piano is not firewood yet,
They try to remember,
But still they forget
That the heart beats in threes
Just like a waltz
And nothing can stop you from dancing
Rise from your cold hospital bed
I tell you
You're not dying
Everyone knows you're going to live
So you might as well start trying..."


I could barely finish the first verse before I stood. It was too sad to bear. I had to do something. Anything to get Mother out of my head. At least for a few hours. If I thought wbout how much she was suffering anymore, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.

So I was going to clean around the house,  like what Mother usually did during the weekdays. I made the beds, dusted the furniture,  swept, mopped, everything. Just like the day she threw that glass at me, I stopped at the Grandfather Clock. I stepped back, hand over mouth.

It had been cleaned. Why was it clean? Mother had asked everyone, Father, me, even Axel not to clean this antique. Was it Axel? It wasn't me. I hope Mother hadn't forgotten and done it...had she?

Oh no...

-----------

Mother had finally gotten better, only casually forgetting things here and there, like a stack of mail on the washing machine, or left her keys in the wrong place, like the cupboard. One day we sat down alone at the dining table, and I asked her about the Grandfather Clock.

She dropped her glass of wine, and I cleaned it.

"I..." She mumbled. "I cleaned it." I gasped and frowned. She placed her head on her hand to rest, picking at her food with her fork like a child anxious to be excused. "I couldn't stand the dust."

"That's not why."

She hung her head down, ashamed. I saw a tear drip off her nose. I grabbed her hand and held it. She stammered, "I wanted it to look younger. So I would feel younger." She looked up at me, her cheeks streaked with tears.

"Mother, you aren't too old. You have a long while before you get to leave me," I chuckled. She wasn't amused at my jokes. She glared at me.

"Do I have much time, Shyloh?" She grabbed her plate and stormed off to the kitchen.

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Gustyfoot
Kit
avatar

Mood : Guest

DO YOU LIKE TACO'S?

Why, I love tacos, Gust
Thunderclan
Posts : 7011
WCW Points : 18673
Thanks Points : 5

Character sheet
Health:
100/100  (100/100)

PostSubject: Re: Firewood   February 26th 2015, 3:06 am

Cool

_________________
May starclan light your path


 You have been touched

"I will fight! I will! I will fight until my heart stops beating and my paws stop working! You look upon me and see just a tiny cat! But you do not see the fighting spirit! You know why I fight even when there is no hope?! Because my clan is my hope and I made a promise. A promise that I would protect everyone in nightclan, and I intend to keep it! The clan may not make a cat but the cats make a clan and we are Nightclan!"

-Gustyfoot
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Bloodtalon
Cheerer Upper
avatar

Mood : hey guys guess what i'm inactive and also very boy i am boy i hope you know what i mean I AM BOY I WANT TO BE BOY I AM FTM
Starclan
Posts : 6268
WCW Points : 311910
Thanks Points : 33

Character sheet
Health:
100/100  (100/100)

PostSubject: Re: Firewood   March 5th 2015, 5:27 pm

Chapter 9

Not a day goes by now that my mother doesn't yell at me. The Alzheimer's has completed engulfed her mind, and I now have to feed her, help her off the couch when she wants to read in the living room, and drive her everywhere.

My piano is partially broken, the keys out of tune if they aren't completely broken or silent. As I am 22 now, the piano is about 10 years old or over. My piano is broken because of Mother. She went on a rampage when K couldn't find the novel she wanted to read. She slammed the keys and cut the strings, and now it barely plays.

I didn't want the piano anymore, anyway. Axel Reed's hands had been on it. He proposed to me a few months ago. We were married for almost four months, and I ordered a restraining order and a divorce against him after he pushed me down a flight of stairs.

My name was still Shyloh Reed, instead of Shyloh Waters. I'm hoping to remarry soon, so I don't have the name "Waters" because of my father or "Reed" because of Axel. I think I've just given up on love entirely. The only one that I know I love is Mother.

She has become extremely violent. I'm beginning to look for nursing homes, or a care-taker. I love her and want to care for her, but she seems to hate me. I can't have anyone hate me. Father, his wife, Axel, everyone else hates me. I hate myself.

I can tell that Mother is dying. She has a distorted face, wrinkles, cateracts, everything. I check her heart-rate and blood pressure/sugar everyday, but it isn't enough. She has an oxygen tank. She won't eat, drink, sleep, anything. She sits in bed and drinks ginger ale and wine, and smokes. I want to refuse. I can't lose my mother. But she is dying.

She said she wished that the Grandfather Clock was younger, so she cleaned it. I helped, and ripped up and burned every calendar in the house. I didn't allow her to watch the news, and I ripped the copyright pages out of her novels that contained the years.

I wish she would last longer, but a doctor phoned the landline a few weeks ago, and told me that she would live five years longer or less, but she would be a complete..."zombie", so to speak. I told him that he was wrong, that she couldn't die. He swatted my pleading away, and hung up.

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Gustyfoot
Kit
avatar

Mood : Guest

DO YOU LIKE TACO'S?

Why, I love tacos, Gust
Thunderclan
Posts : 7011
WCW Points : 18673
Thanks Points : 5

Character sheet
Health:
100/100  (100/100)

PostSubject: Re: Firewood   March 6th 2015, 1:51 pm

Cool

_________________
May starclan light your path


 You have been touched

"I will fight! I will! I will fight until my heart stops beating and my paws stop working! You look upon me and see just a tiny cat! But you do not see the fighting spirit! You know why I fight even when there is no hope?! Because my clan is my hope and I made a promise. A promise that I would protect everyone in nightclan, and I intend to keep it! The clan may not make a cat but the cats make a clan and we are Nightclan!"

-Gustyfoot
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