The room.

It feels so long ago when I first saw this room. I knew we were leaving our apartment, but the thought of having my own room was only a vague fantasy I continually built up with my vivid imagination. So when I stepped inside, my brain twisted and flexed. "I can put my bed here, make a secret passage way through here, make a web on this side..."

The only things left from the previous owner were a small end table with chipping white paint and a nail in the wall next to the window, carrying the burden of a plastic crucifix. Of course, there was the pinkish brown carpeting, flaunting its age with as much dignity as it could gather upon my inspection. Before I moved in I would sit with these new friends in my new room while watching cartoons on a 4 inch black and white television and admiring the way the sunlight warmed my abode.

But those are all gone now. I've lived here for over a decade now, barring a four year long sporadic hiatus, and everything I first saw in the room is gone. The end table and crucifix faded from my eyes with the passage of time, and that determined rug pulled up and trashed after a violent interaction between my father and a bucket of red paint.

That room that was once a barnyard for reckless dreams has now been jammed to the brim with belongings and rearranged a thousand times. It is a tired, safe space. However, there are times when the dust on my dresser catches the sun's rays in such a way that it reminds me of the dust on that chipped white paint. And the light from the sun draws me toward the window to look for my next chapter as this one comes to a close.

November 28, 2012

What can I say? I haven't written for this blog for a second post, so here it is. You're welcome. Let's do this again. Have your people call my people. I don't have people, so good luck with that.

The mirror.

Hello. I am Margery Hemphlet. I created the mirror thousands of years ago. I am so sorry to everyone today reading this. The mirror was originally created to scare people from wondering what they look like.

When I showed my town my creation, they started looking at it all day long. So I decided to invent  acne. I was like, "Ha! They're not going to want to look at themselves now!" Boy was I wrong. Everyone looked at themselves more intensely for longer hours of the day than ever before, popping their sores or covering them with flesh colored plaster. They looked horrible, yet they could not help but be fascinated with their appearance.

One day, I decided enough was enough and I smashed all the mirrors in the town. From then on, everyone threw tomatos at me everyday for the rest of my life. At least I had a healthy red glow when I looked at myself in the shards of my creation. Hey! Don't judge me! Everyone turned their backs on me, I had the worst luck, and a hump the size of a seal on my neck. Myself was the only friend I could scrounge up after they all abandoned me. All I did was try to help them. I guess people want problems.