lycan driscoll / d5 / (fin)

gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. Graphics 3,094 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 24, 2024 20:46:44 GMT -5	lycan driscoll / d5 / (fin) Sept 23, 2019 1:54:49 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Sept 23, 2019 1:54:49 GMT -5 {lycan driscoll} district five eighteen a ghost story
	Last Edit: Sept 23, 2019 5:37:46 GMT -5 by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. 堕落天使

gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.
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lycan driscoll / d5 / (fin) Sept 23, 2019 2:41:49 GMT -5

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Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Sept 23, 2019 2:41:49 GMT -5

LYCAN DRISCOLL

I was born a ghost, with no cries or a ruckus. Ma said I was a small corn husk doll, as quiet as a lamb, cheeks rosy and porcelain. But, I’d made her bleed so much in birth that the sheets below were the red sea, the cloth I was shrouded in the color of fresh carnations.

I was born a ghost with a bleeding;

I came into the world in a quiet, scarlet rage. That hospital room she stayed in had been resurrected in the chambers of my head countless times—white beige walls, a bone-chilling cold, my mother and I a field of winter roses.

The fortune-tellers down the street would read my face as they would auguries whenever I played in the streets. “Your future is red,” they said, voices resonant and heavy from an invisible chasm sewed to their dark mouths. “Thank you, it’s my favorite color,” I’d smile. They resented my smile because no matter how arduously they tried, they couldn’t decipher the exact message underneath it. But, one thing was for sure—it was a smile born out of spite.

However, I did not loathe them as much as they loathed me. There was a fascination they induced in others, a kitten's curiosity. And since my mother owed our street’s renowned store that sold perfectly-ripe fruits, spices, cookeries, and everything in between, they tolerated me and the supposed darkness I wore as a second skin.

I learnt their cards which I was told, held crumbs of the future within their age-worn frames. Follow the road the crumbs make to your future, they husked to doe-eyed boys and girls. I snickered, holding the cards in my hands. If this was my future, I mused, it was as heavy as a deck of cards.

As I grew older, I was more at peace when no one took notice of me and that was often an easy task; no one eyed my scrawny figure, or the tussled hair, or the pale skin;

no mortal could see a ghost.

I was an adrift wind, blown from the north, caught on the branches of an oak tree, and then passed onto the grooves that bordered the district. I was unmoored, and uncaught. That freedom was an addictive substance, a buzz in the veins, and I danced with it, was drunk on it: cheeks flushed, mouth agape with soundless laughter.

My skin could never jar warmth.

The boy that’d kissed me on Hollow’s Eve told me that. Our hands were loosely entwined then; his was gloved in heat; I couldn’t feel my own. He smelled of heavy cigarette smoke, and damp leather, smells that had made my nose crinkle when we met. I didn’t know why I was there with him, but I did not mind. I told myself I shouldn’t mind.

He raised our dark cocoon of fingers as if he were proposing a toast and our hands were a champagne flute. The moon which sat in the background, colored it a cool silver. “They get even colder when they’re under moonlight,” he chuckled, “you’re freaky, Driscoll.” A smile cut through my face. “You wanna know how freaky?”

But even though I kissed boys, laid with them, accepted the lavender bouquets they left upon my windowsill, I felt utterly lonely unless I was near the trees in the district’s edge, under their claw-like shadows at dusk.

On the undergrowth, I’d spread out the tarot cards, burn the kerosene lamp, and search for my future, or pretend my hands were someone else’s and search for their future.

“Do you have friends, Ly?” Ma had once asked.

“Yes, Ma,” my eyes opened; head moved on her lap.

“Oh, who are they? Tell me their names,” she urged.

“The trees, and the ghosts that live inside them.”

I am a ghost story, in the process of being told.

Last Edit: Sept 23, 2019 5:58:53 GMT -5 by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.

堕落天使

gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. Graphics 3,094 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 24, 2024 20:46:44 GMT -5	lycan driscoll / d5 / (fin) Sept 23, 2019 5:38:23 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Sept 23, 2019 5:38:23 GMT -5 ripred_bot boo.
	Last Edit: Sept 23, 2019 5:38:42 GMT -5 by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. 堕落天使

gamemaker ☢️ ivan korsch Moderator 4,180 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Apr 25, 2024 13:58:58 GMT -5 call me jaded	lycan driscoll / d5 / (fin) Sept 23, 2019 6:23:43 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by gamemaker ☢️ ivan korsch on Sept 23, 2019 6:23:43 GMT -5 oooOOOooooOOooooOoooOOOOo spooky