literature

Someday

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It would be wrong to assume that the new student was ignorant in the normal fashion styles for girls her age, for that was not the truth at all. The brunette knew what was deemed socially appropriate for her, to the point where she wished she didn’t. Good girls wore pinks and blues and brandnames on their tops with jeans, sneakers and sunny-smiles etched over their faces with a timid hint of lipstick and blush. She wore fishnet stockings with black flats that she swore she saw The Little Princess once wear, accompanied by a plaid dress with a overall-like straps for the shoulders. Her hair was long, while others hid their locks away in swishy ponytails that bounced with every step. She wore purple mascara that made her spring green eyes illuminate under dusty fluorescent lights; a color that no one in the hallways could compete with.

She was a solar eclipse – stunning, yet risky to lay eyes on. No matter how long someone was chastised and scolded, thousands of kids a year would end up looking into a solar eclipse, promptly going blind. Yet no matter how much their superficial radars told them to look away, they could not help but turn their heads at her, only to wrinkle their noses in scorn. Who was she, to not blend in? Who was she to walk into school on September first, dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl? Seniors lit up their cigarettes in the hallways and blew their smoke towards her, just to see her reaction. Girls skirted closer to her in order to see if her long locks were real while whispering about her behind her back in the most literal sense of the phrase.

Madison LaRoche had no time for rumors of strange girls in plaid dresses and black flats. Her mind had been spun by the long staircases and ruthless teachers of her classes, the astounding amount of homework she had accumulated in just two periods, and wondering how she was going to survive four years of this abhorrent torture. Although this was her first year in this school, her height gave her the advantage of others mistaking her for a junior –  a gift which, she knew, her freshman peers would kill to have. It was probably for the best that she didn’t have friends, for they would’ve given away her position. But she wondered to herself if getting a swirlie in a filthy bathroom toilet with your friends was better than walking the halls in silence. There was always something to laugh about after, she presumed. No one laughed about being alone.

So it was no surprise that she did not care about the rumors of this strange girl that her fellow freshman were whispering about. No one could recall going to middle school with her, or elementary, or even kindergarten. In the small state of Rhode Island, not knowing your contemporaries from somewhere or another was quite an unnerving occurrence, and the fact that she was so incredibly different was not something they could have at all. People here blended. Like sheep being herded by an apathetic sheep dog, most felt safer when everyone was alike. People here ran into each other at the same shops. Best friends in close-knit circles would find themselves accidentally wearing the same outfit. When people took pictures in groups at parties or pep rallies, they were so interchangeable that the yearbook sometimes named them wrong.

“Who cares?” Madison LaRouche cried at lunch, letting her chicken sandwich plop to its paper plate with a clutter. Across from her were the few people that she could call “close acquaintances.” When she was young, she had dreamed of having a friend that she could do everything with and share all her closest secrets and ideas, but reality had beaten that dream out of her a long time ago. Now, she had these two – Jennifer and Max, who, like everyone else, wished to blend like everyone else, but was failing at doing so. There would come a day when they would succeed – or so they assumed – but until then, they were stuck with Madison, who was far too lazy to worry about blending, whether it be out of apathy or an excessive amount of failure at doing so.

“I don’t care, really,” Max frowned, poking at his burnt pizza with a plastic spork. “I just think it’s weird, you know? People are saying that she hasn’t even said one word all day, not even to the teachers! She just stares at everyone with these eerie green eyes.” He paused for a minute, scoffing. “I bet they’re contacts.”

“Bet she’s mute,” Jennifer retorted. “Or maybe she’s just retarded?” Jenny had nothing in front of her – not because she was trying to starve herself to death, but was too picky to even touch school food. Even though some claimed that her mother’s cooking was no better, hell would freeze over before she ever stood in line at a school cafeteria. “She’s definitely not from around here… Or maybe she doesn’t speak English!”

Madison had given up reasoning with them at this point, and took out a book from the depths of her purse, intent on ignoring them for the rest of their eighteen minutes of lunch. She knew that this would not stop their chatter, however, and try as she might, could not ignore their incessant gossip. There was always the option to get up and leave the table, but that choice had been presented to her ever since seventh grade, when she had first met these two. She had never chosen to leave them, despite how much their sheep-like ways ate at her, and by now, Madison was convinced that everyone had to have a sheep inside of them. The reason she stuck around was because she was too frightened to murder the faint traces of ‘follower’ she had inside her.

“She can’t be retarded,” was Max’s quip. “She’s an Honors Kid… or so I’ve heard. Scotty and the others stole her schedule and took a peek at it, and apparently, she’s a damn genius, ‘cause she’s in all the damn advanced classes…” He swiveled a blonde head towards the silent bookworm. “Seen her at all today, Maddy?”

Two years of twisted friendship, and neither Max nor Jen could ever realize when she was trying to ignore them. The dark-haired girl shook her head, muddy brown eyes glued to the pages of her murder mystery.

“I told you, I don’t pay attention to people. Whether she’s in my class or not, I don’t really care. She’s just another human, like everyone else.”

Her answer couldn’t have been more boring, but it served it’s purpose quite well. The two, disenchanted by her apathetic answer, turned back to each other in order to chat about the strange newcomer, until the lunch bell freed the trio, as they waved awkward goodbyes. Hugging her textbooks to her chest, Maddy ascended the stairs until she felt her legs were going to break, slipping into the safe sanctuary of a classroom, letting safe smells of sharpened pencils and brand new notebooks arrest her senses.

It was her Honors English class, last period. Her teacher was small in height, but powerful in words as she spun tales of the stories they’d be sampling together that year. Normally alert, Madison was not aware that someone would steal her attention away from what was supposed to be the main show.

The girl didn’t even speak, she barely even took a breath, but something pulled Madison towards her like metal to magnet. Years later she wondered why she even glanced at the mystery girl in the first place, and wondered how different her life would be if she hadn’t taken that first look. But for whatever the reason, Madison turned her head towards that strange girl, and was taken aback by a set of green eyes staring at her intently, but with a smile – if eyes could smile. Madison inhaled sharply, but try as she might, could not look away. As if to taunt her, the girl grinned, waggling fingers at her in a teasing fashion. Clenching her fists, Madison turned away.

The rest of English was a blur. Later, she would wonder if that was intentional – if she had ignored the teacher on purpose, angry that everyone had been so right about her, but had been right in all the wrong ways. She was different, but in that refreshing way, like a rainbow after a bad storm. She was quiet, but in that charming way, like a sleeping baby, at peace with the world. And she may have gained the envy of some of her peers, but was it her fault that she possessed such arresting green eyes?

It would be best to forget about her. She would find a circle of those who rebelled against the sheep cycle (who just became a different brand of sheep in the process, in Maddy’s opinion) and she would be loved by them. She would probably blend somewhere, unlike Madison, who was the sore thumb that stuck out wherever she went. It would be best to pretend as if she had never seen those haunting green eyes stare into her dull muddy brown and smile so genuinely at her.

She found herself alone at lunch the next day, and found it strangely gratifying, if not lonely. But she was content to attempt to eat her chicken patty, smothered in three layers of ketchup, and read her mystery novels at the same time. Despite the racket ricocheting around her, Maddy was at peace in her mind own. But this year, she would soon learn, she would never have a piece of mind. Perhaps she knew this when an unfamiliar voice asked if the seat across from her was taken, and the sound of a paper plate crashing onto a musty table rang in her ears. Mud brown eyes scrolled up to see her, that girl with the chilling green eyes.


She recalled what she had told Jen and Matt – that she was just another human, like everyone else. A strange human, who, did not seem to feed off the need to be around others. Unlike Maddy, who found herself clinging to friends who she hated immensely, this girl had been quiet for a whole school day. But why was she here, sitting across from her, even after Maddy had not confirmed in that seat was free or not? It was true that this end of the cafeteria was always deserted, but who was this stranger to assume that she was an outcast, who no one was going to come for? Who was she to assume that she had no friend to smile and laugh and eat horrible school lunches with, while joking about new teachers and complaining about homework assignments?

Suddenly, Madison found herself enraged at her innocent audacity. “I never said that seat was free,” she noted, not able to refrain herself from adding a hint of venom in her tone. If she had been attempting to poison the stranger’s pure way of viewing this school, then it was a complete failure, for the girl did not change in disposition.

“If it was important to you, you would’ve defended it earlier,” the stranger noted, her tone matter-of-fact. She did not give Madison time to debunk her theory, and plunged a spork into a salad, chewing slowly. The dark-haired girl could not bring herself to tell the stranger to leave, and had to settle for glowering at her. She felt that asking the stranger questions would be futile – some part of Madison felt as if this girl was somehow above questions. But then again, was it not Madison who claimed that the stranger was just a human, like everyone else?

This went on for quite a few lunches, to Madison’s discomfort. Every time she found herself alone, the stranger would seat herself across from her, keeping a respectable silence, chewing on bits of lettuce with a faraway look in her eyes. It was pathetic that the stranger’s name was still unknown to her, and yet, Madison could not find herself willing to speak with her. If everyone else knew so little about her, why should she get to know anything about her at all? What made her worthy, to even sit across from her once a week?

Curiosity always kills the cat…

“My name is Sabbath,” the stranger choked out, after a moment’s hesitance. Three weeks it had taken for Madison to spout the question, and yet the three-second delay in her answer had felt like years to her.

And still, the young LaRouche felt as if she was being toyed with. Sabbath? She had to be kidding…

“It’s Sab for short,” the brunette attempted to explain, jade eyes suddenly unconfident – a new sight for Madison. She clutched at the hem of her skirt, cheeks flushed, as if she were revealing a lethal secret. “My parents… they’re extremist Christians, you see. I was… uh, conceived on the Sabbath and born on the Sabbath, so thus…” She trailed off, shrugging,  never once looking toward Madison as she attempted to calm herself down.

Madison wished she hadn’t asked. What was she supposed to say to a story like that? Should social skills be a class, she would definitely fail it, for the girl had never been trained on how to hold a proper conversation. She looked to others to pick up the slack, which was why she hung around people like Jen and Matt in the first place – who were so chatty, they could talk to walls instead of people and not notice a difference. But when Sabbath looked to her, eyes wide, as if asking her to say something, anything, Madison knew she had to grope for words, or risk looking like an apathetic mute.

“Do… you like your name?” was her dull comment, to which Sabbath shook her head, and launched into a long-winded explanation of how she loathed everything her parents pushed on her, and how she had to quietly rebel against their extremist ways, or else risk her sanity. That lunch was spent weaving a tale of a girl who dared to defy society, and the rules her parents set down for her, as well as any other rule that compromised who she was. She had been tested mentally by her parents trials – that much Madison could tell just by her tone of voice, and by the way she always looked uneasy when discussing religion, by clutching the hems of her skirt and darting her green eyes around the room. Before the lunch bell rang, Sabbath muttered, “I care not what people think, and especially not what my parents think anymore… I barely care what I think of myself.”

Deep down, Madison wished she could say that it was like staring into a reflection of herself, but that would be giving herself too much credit. She found herself in Sab’s black flats, being told what to do and how to think constantly, but she would never rebel. Inside, Madison knew that she was a sheep who could not follow the leader correctly, and in the end, would probably have a fate worse than ultimately jumping off a cliff because the other sheep were doing it. Being a sheep was predictable, easy. Sab’s path was uncharted; who knew where it would lead her? Or worse, where it would lead Madison, should she continue to befriend her?

She watched her from afar, studying her mannerisms, feeling complete just by seeing her walk down a hallway alone, with her head held up high, still defying the odds. She put her up on a pedestal, thinking of her whenever Jen and Matt’s incessant babbling were too much to take, constantly wishing that she too, could refuse that need inside her to comfortably follow the crowd. It baffled her, how she could walk right past a group of the popular set who whispering loudly about her, with rumors punctuated by obnoxious laughter ringing throughout the halls. It was mind-blowing, how she could give presentations about politics and issues with religion for school projects, while everyone else picked superficial topics, like hair dye and nail polish and seasonal sports scores.

Sabbath was dangerous. No one could be near her, and not be dragged under.

Madison was kidding herself, obviously. She was already down as low as they could go, when it came to social recognition, and petty things like popularity. What did it matter, that she was hanging around Sabbath, a self-proclaimed individualist in a sea of bleating sheep? Where did this need to be cold and superficial like all of the others come from, Madison wondered, as she lied to Sabbath every week, and told her that her usual seat at lunch was taken? The LaRouche soon came to figure that perhaps she was not human - perhaps none of them were human. They were all pitiful and pathetic, and should be burned to the stake. Maybe only people like Sabbath should be allowed to live – people who were not afraid to be themselves rather than alter their characters in order to fit in. Every time Madison saw those chilling green eyes, she hated herself for shunning her. She hated the rest of them for making it so easy to shun her.

So it was a surprise when Sabbath approached the lunch table for the first time in three months. Mud brown eyes quivered – the outcast was not sure that she had it in her to refuse her another time. But Sabbath only muttered a brief, “Come with me,” before walking briskly away from the lunch table. Madison followed blindly, just like her true sheep instincts had taught her to do.

Of course, Madison could not bring herself to question where they were going. Soon, the lunch room was left behind, and the two were now in the girls’ bathroom. Filthy mirrors streaked with grime and dust stared back at them, cream tiling and grey walls keeping a melancholy mood. Sabbath pulled her into a stall, and began patting the sides of her plaid skirt, searching. Madison felt her throat close up on her, opening her mouth slightly to ask, “What is this?” The stall was small, barely enough room for one person, never mind two. She instantly felt claustrophobic, a feeling which intensified as Sab looked up at her with those green eyes of hers.

The pale one pulled out a lighter from her pocket, as well as a small, pocket-sized version of the Old Testament of the Bible. It could’ve fit in her palm, it was so small, so innocent looking. Despite this, Sabbath flicked the lighter once, twice, three times, bringing a dancing flame to its open pages. Madison wanted desperately to ask just what she thought she was doing, wanted desperately to leave, but knew she could not, not even if she wanted to. She could only watch as Sabbath set the pocket-sized Bible on fire, watching the pages burn with a peaceful look in her eyes, eventually letting the book drop into the toilet before the flames had a chance to lick at her fingers. She looked up towards Madison, eyes searching.

The smoky smell of burnt pages and freshly lit fire licked at her nostrils, giving Madison a quesy feeling in the pit of her stomach, but unfortunately, the dark-haired girl could find no words. Sabbath found them for her.

“Don’t tell me you never wanted to do that,” she almost teased, looking back down as the book floated in the scummy water. A silence passed over them, punctuated by the sound of the lunch bell ringing. Classes were beginning, yet none of them moved. “I was just thinking of how I found it strange, that I missed your silent company.  Silence can tell a lot about a person, don’t you think? Your silence right now proves to me that you don’t find me all too weird. Inside, you can see yourself relating to me, even if it is just a small part of you.”

“Why do you care?” Madison found herself asking. It was, perhaps, one of the strangest conversations she had ever found herself in.  Should someone ever had told her that one day, she was going to be conversing with an outcast more introverted than herself in a bathroom stall over a burned bible, she would’ve told them they were nothing short of insane.

“You don’t need anybody, right? All you need is yourself. You’ve already done a great job of proving that to everyone… Why does it matter that I can relate to you?”  There was that accidental venom sneaking into her tone again, like a mad scientist adding an extra dose of chemical x to a potion, and ruining it completely. “Just … stop… Just leave me alone, alright?”

If she had thought Sabbath indestructible, that thought vanished when she stared into those chilling green eyes one more time. They wavered, worse almost seemed to crash, as if Madison’s words were a stake to the heart. The LaRouche blinked twice – she had not expected her words to mean anything to this free soul. What did the opinion of a sheep matter to a nomad such as herself? Especially when those opinions were nothing but lies?

She did not want to be left alone, she did not want to go back to the life she had once led before Sabbath had stepped foot in this school. Scared, Madison outstretched her arms, embracing Sab tightly, as if she were fearful to let go, believing that she would float away from her forever. Sab’s skinny, fragile arms wrapped themselves around Madison’s tall frame, pressing herself into her chest, face buried, and it then, for the first time, that the LaRouche realized just how fragile Sabbath was. She was no stronger than her, but felt so much weaker. In fact, it was funny, how she was a perfect fit in her arms. Maddy felt an apology form on the tip of her tongue, but before the words could slip, Sab untangled herself from the taller girl’s web, her eyes heavy, but holding their ground.

“Then this is goodbye.”

They were her last words, uttered with a broken murmur, as she dropped the lighter to the floor, flinging the bathroom stall open and rushing out of the melancholy quarters. Madison felt her arms feel strangely empty as she stared after her, pocketing the lighter, despite the repercussions that would be if she was found caught with it. It didn’t hit home at first, to watch Sabbath run out of that bathroom stall with heavy eyes. At the time, Madison had not expected this separation to be forever. Looking back, she often wondered why she hadn’t given chase, or why she hadn’t run after her, screaming her name, no matter what the teachers or hall monitors thought of her behavior. In the end, she blamed her sheep-mentality, and only kicked herself harder at the memory.

As she stepped out of the stall, she saw another girl drying her hands, staring at her, obviously having witnessed Sab leave the very same stall she was emerging out of. Before, Madison would’ve spluttered excuses, but today, she merely rolled her eyes and grunted, patting the lighter in her jeans pocket, ignoring the negative mumbles that the witness rolled behind her.

She found it strange that Sabbath had known of her own problems with overly religious parents.

Had she ever told of her it, in one forgotten lunch session? Or had she seen that hatred in her eyes?

No longer did Sabbath ask to sit with her at lunch, or bother showing up near her at all during any time of day. No longer did they rendezvous in the girls’ bathroom, no longer did she smile and wiggle her fingers at her in English. Yet slowly, surely, others were catching on to her magic.

She acquired a following all her own, of other individuals who were tired of being sheep. Here came girls who wore their hair layered and cropped instead of the normal ponytail, here came boys who started the high school’s very first literacy clubs, and passed out flyers advertising LAN parties with no shame etched in their faces. Here were girls who weren’t afraid of going beyond the norm and speaking out their own opinions, separating themselves from the crowd. Here were people showing their true colors, and not the bland white wool that they had so easily sported before. Slowly, the school because less black and white and more spontaneous, colorful, unique.

Of course, cowards always overtook the masses. Individuality was not, and would never be “in.”

“That girl, I knew she’d be trouble,” Max groaned during one particularly boring lunch. Jennifer nodded, while Madison felt herself tense up. They constantly had to discuss Sabbath, clearly not seeing how it affected her. But then again, they didn’t know anything about each other, did they? Obviously a sorry group, somewhere deep down, the three knew they were not really friends. They were simply just people who sat together at lunch to bitch and moan about their various problems that weren’t really problems at all.

“She’s started a damn revolution,” Jen scoffed, staring down the cafeteria table. “I don’t know what she thinks she’s achieving though. She’s a freak. They’re all freaks.”

Madison found herself leaving their table more often, and eating her lunch alone. Jen and Max did not question her, for her dilemmas were never ones they were ever interested in. And yet they would always take her back to their table, no questions asked, no real harm done, for they were all just harmless acquaintances here – grudges were for real friends who had time to deal with being angry and demanding apologies.

More than ever, Madison wanted to be punished. She wanted to be isolated for what she had done to Sabbath, wanted to suffer for breaking her in such a horrid fashion. And yet, somehow found herself seething with rage that the girl with the chilling green eyes had gotten over their event so quickly, and accumulating a larger group of friends than Madison would ever have. Here she was, forming an army of individualists to combat the sheep-mentality of this school… And to think, there had been a time when Sabbath was hers, when she had trusted Madison, and only Madison. How could she have thrown that all away?

She was foolish, she was egotistical, and maybe, she was possessive. Why did Maddy’s heart soar whenever she caught Sabbath alone, and saw a flicker of light shine in her eyes whenever she scanned the lunch tables, as if looking to catch a glimpse of the LaRouche? Why did her heart tighten, as if bound together by chains, whenever she saw her walking with a cluster of her newly gained comrades, buried within their trust and love, the same trust and love she had put into Madison?

It was a mistake, maybe. A grand, colossal mistake. She had trusted that Madison would be the one to break boundaries with her, but in the end, she was naught but a pawn. A tool of this great scheme of things, destined to jump of the edge of the cliff when the first sheep thought it dandy to do so. But colossal as that mistake was, Madison could only find herself wondering if she would ever get a chance like that again.

Many times, she tried to apologize. Once, she wrote a short letter, pouring her soul onto the paper, before she ripped it into large pieces and stuffed it into the interior of her English desk. The next day, she found the same letter still in her desk, but taped together, crinkled. She tried calling her, but realized that she had changed cell phone numbers. She searched for her MySpace, and found that she was too non-conformist to have one. She tried approaching her, but whenever she did, another one of her accomplices would be there, and Madison could not find the words to express her own stupidity.

She spent a year torturing herself, replaying that one moment in her mind where her arms had been wrapped around her, where she felt as if she could protect her from anything this world had to offer. There was nothing she could do to ever make up for that mistake, except watch Sabbath from afar, and hope that she had everything she ever wanted. And soon, as Madison spent her days alone, it was a small comfort to just be able to see her face every weekday, and see an occasional smile light up her bright, hopeful features.

Near the end of the year, she announced that she was transferring schools.

Her accomplices were mournful, the sheep were rejoicing, while Madison felt her last comfort ripped away from her, like an offender finally being thrown into jail after a year long trial. It was as if she were standing still while the earth spun under her feet, everyone else passing her by. She was transferring. She was transferring? Oh, but only one school away, right down the street – as if that was helping the situation any. Her followers planned to keep in touch, her haters wish her the worst, and Madison felt enraged that she could not wish her anything at all.

Was she supposed to take this lying down? Perhaps not, but that’s how she took it. She didn’t notice how Sabbath purposely brushed by her table at lunch, looking for a response from her. She didn’t notice how Sabbath would purposely go out of her way to run into her in the hallway, looking for at least a rustle of anger, a glint of any emotion. Even if she did take the bait, how would she respond? With an angry, violent question as to how could she leave? With a saddened, yet understanding goodbye, hoping her the best? She felt cheated, felt robbed, and at the same time, felt empty. Little did she realize that no goodbye was worse than any goodbye at all.

She left without a word to her.

Maddy found it interesting how some of her closest followers had been so quick to don their sheepskin once again, how they were the first to forget about Sabbath, and how none of them knew the origins of her peculiar name… The school was colorful when she had roamed its halls, and now it was predictable again. The girls with ponytails and boys with jerseys multiplied in number, and soon, they all were interchangeable, as life had once been. Like a Technicolor film reduced to black and white, the quality of their little high school dropped considerably. And yet, everyone was happy. Everyone was all smiles, as if nothing had ever revolutionized their world.

Soon, Sabbath was nothing but a memory.

But every day, as Madison was forced to make her daily trek towards school, she passed by Sabbath’s new lodging, the artsy private academy which now housed the girl with the chilling green eyes. She wondered if she was breaking boundaries there as well, or was she at the type of school where there were no boundaries left to be broken? Maddy liked to dream that Sabbath was sitting near the window of the highest floor of the private school and thinking of her, even though she new that was a lie. She wondered if Sabbath even remembered that one hug they shared, or if she had placed Maddy out of her mind forever. And why not?

She was naught but a sheep.

On a gloomy Sunday morning, Maddy found that she had the house to herself, overwhelmed with memories. She had no friends to turn to, no outlet to pour out her anger. She turned to her piano and dusted off its frame, smiling sadly as she let her fingers slide over a few keys. They keys let out a solemn tune, ringing to the beat of her own wounded heart. Before she knew it, the somber tune echoed along with her unspoken pain, and fingers waltzed on ivory white keys, the tune slow, the tune dark, the tune who emphasized with her more than any other human ever did, since Sabbath had left.

Rain beat fiercely against the closed window, curtains drawn open, letting the darkness snake into the room, sitting beside the mourner as the piano’s tune rang out against the whispers of the wind. Her fingers cramped as she continued to play, yet was afraid to stop,  least she loose the tune, like she had lost Sabbath. With the moonlight and the darkness dancing about on creaky hardwood floor, the pianist barely noticed as silent tears streamed down her face, dripping onto ivory keys as kept her head held high. The wind whipped against the windowpane, as verdant leaves spun amongst their small tornados, the same color as Sabbath’s chilling eyes. And yet, Madison barely noticed the ghosts waltzing as she played. Her tune held a promise of tomorrow, of someday, when sins could be atoned for, when lies could be woven into truth.

Her parents found her the next morning, eyelids drooping as she slowly kept playing her tune, lips moving wordlessly, whispering a silent promise to herself.

“Someday…”
I'm really proud of this piece, although I'm not sure if I managed to portray all of the emotions I wanted to correctly. I really would like some good feedback on this piece, since I did put a ton of work into this!

All the events that happened in this piece are entirely true, if you replace the piano playing at the end with a girl typing at her computer nonstop, that is... The piece is called "Someday" because when I was writing the end, that song by John Legend started playing on TV and it fit the piece perfectly... If you listen to that song while reading the end of this, it really ties this together - at least I think, anyway. The link to the song can be found here: [link]

It kind of hurt to write this piece. I thought I had forgotten about this big mess, but it came back to haunt me, and to free myself from these memories, I felt like I had to get it down on paper (or on Word...).

EDIT: Her real name was not Sabbath, but something equally religious and outrageous, compared to "normal" names of our time.
© 2009 - 2024 kiri-catastrophe
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zeyaf15's avatar
This piece is so beautiful. The emotions you wanted to convey were really there and you described each happening perfectly. I like it how Maddy wanted to be her own self yet somehow she doesn't trust herself. It's really good!