that's the way it's always been [Love and Harper]

that's the way it's always been [Love and Harper] Feb 5, 2012 5:30:27 GMT -5

Post by junie st. james d7 ❁ on Feb 5, 2012 5:30:27 GMT -5

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'' take your past and burn it up and let
'' it go , c a r r y on i'm s t r o n g e r than you'll ever know[/color][/font][/color]
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My house is a mad house. If it is not Fire roaring about the place, then something is about to blow up. If not that, then Myra has on of my cats hidden somewhere and she is planning to do terrible things to it with her pocket knife. Who even gave that kid a pocket knife? Of course, Rylee is usually quiet, as is River, however many a catastrophe have we had with them. River once swallowed a pocket watch whole. I can safely say the the hospital will never forget that visit; especially when the entire family came to visit him. Love is quiet, too, except when she screams. Her voice is so shrill is can only be compared to silence, in the way that it is deafening and blinding all at once, and is one of the only things that can awaken me from a nightmare.

I barely ever have nightmares. When I do, they mostly involve Myra stabbing Rowley repeatedly with a knife, or Love being forced to face an actual nightlight, without being prepared for it. I wonder at that girl, truly I do. We all know that none of us, except maybe Crowley or Fire, would ever survive in the games. But Love wouldn't make it to the reaping without breaking down into tears and curling up into a fetal position. Last year Markle had to drag her and she didn't open her eyes until she was home again. I sigh and look around my room. I wonder what the actual surface space looks like; it is constantly covered with cats, so I have no idea, in truth.

The light coming in through the window, however, is jarringly bright and it shakes me to my senses. In this house, I fit in. When I go outside into the world, people stare and whisper and shake their heads
and say that I'm a Peregrine. That I come from that house on the hill where the freaks go. They talk about my mother and what she might have done to her husbands. It's tragic that they died, and lucky that they all left us lots of money, but why must they take that as if it where her fault? They where accidents. We aren't normal, no, but we are people and we have dreams and aspirations. Even though I know I'm right, I prefer to stay within the house. I talk to Rylee, or tell River stories while he chews happily at an item of my jewellery. I wish Love could be slightly more normal, though. So she could be happy. I want to dress her in pink and do her hair, but she is afraid of both hair products and pink itself. I stand up,, tripping over a kitten as I do so. It purrs and rubs itself against my leg, but now I am on a mission.

I must bond with my sister. I must help her become less afraid. So I knock on her door and hope that the sound does not scare her.

'' words like this ''
thoughts like this

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tagged: toast, love !
word count: 30 14 1 !
notes: rawr !
outfit: click !
lyrics: ...to be loved - papa roach !
credit:NOTHING_PERSONAL @ CAUTION !

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that's the way it's always been [Love and Harper] Feb 6, 2012 3:27:30 GMT -5

Post by Toasty on Feb 6, 2012 3:27:30 GMT -5

love peregrine
district six

Thoughts rambled through my head. Thoughts of what it'd be like to be normal. To be anything except a Peregrine child. Maybe one day District Six will find a cure for my problem, but then again, most likely not. A life of fear is what i've been granted, and now, all I truly fear is life. For all I know anything could give me a heart attack, and it's only fair somebody makes a cure for me. Maybe If I wrote down some ideas, some thoughts of mine, my mind would clear up. Too many thoughts could send a scary feeling into my body. One that I absolutely hate and fear. There it was again; Fear, fear and more fear. It's all that ever came up in my life, and I really just wanted it to stop. I grab the notebook lying on the drawer next to me, (Luckily it's dark, so the drawer isn't fully visible to frighten me.) and a pencil. One of the few things I didn't fear, and I was glad.

My pencil stroked it's colour onto the lined paper. It's the only thing I could do on my free time, besides cry in my pillow. I mean sure, I could go talk with my family and go outside, if both of those activities didn't freak me out within the first minute of even being there. My room was dark and lonely- Just the way I like it. This way, there would be no nightlights to scare me, no ghouls to catch me. It was just me, my head and my pillow. It's all I needed to survive. Everything else scared me, or what absolutely useless. It's a shame really, how I could't actually write about anything interesting. The pages I fill with ideas are mostly about my fears and family, and how much they freak me out. Someday I wish to write about something else, and for someone (who doesn't freak me out.) to admire my writing. But, frankly, that seems impossible due to conditions. It made me sad inside, it really did.

A knock on the door jolted me back to reality, as my eyes could only widen. My throat choked up, struggling to gain breathes in. Who was that? No one ever, ever knocked on my door. At least not for something good. I dropped my pencil and paper as they fall onto the floor, making a slight tap on the floor. What was I supposed to do? What if I died? What if it was Myra? Worse, what if it was one of Harper's cats? Tear began to swell in my eyes, as I gurgled out the few words I could.

"Just come in and get it over with. I hate having to think of possibilities and what there is to become of me. Just hurry up and do whatever you want with me!"

It was brave that I said that. It was mostly my fears talking. I wish I could contain it sometimes, I truly do, but right now, at this moment, it was too late. The door creaked open and I sunk my head into my pillow. I just wanted to be a normal girl, with a normal life. Was that too much to ask?

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