Dead File Romeo and JulietDead File Romeo and Juliet
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Dead File Romeo and Juliet
By R.A. Ludlow
To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.
-J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
Elizabeth looked about at the stone teeth protruding from the ground. All besides the path was overgrown with dark grass. The walls about it were just as that colour, as was the neglected church at the path's reach. The wind was cold, but the afternoon was still quite bright. The clouds peered suspiciously upon the deformed mouth and its victim within, and Elizabeth smiled.
She finally settled herself against a secluded gravestone and began scribbling words on paper. She described in a stanza what she saw. This was a world with no exits, just life sprouting from the monuments of death. The colours of blue, green, and brown brick were exhilarating to her.
And then, as if it had just occurred to her that she was alive, she heard a strangle whistli
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I just didn't want to get off the school bus. Apparently I just decided one day that I wouldn't. I crossed my arms and stared forward, intent on rooting my buttocks into the decaying leather of the cold seat. Trying to imagine myself now, I picture a ten year old with a scowl, but I was actually sixteen, which is embarrassing. Don't judge; I'm sure I had a reason, I just don't remember it.
You see, the walk from the bus to the school was very, very cold in the winter. I didn't like it one bit, and so I thought, 'well, why the hell should I?' It made perfect sense, I think. When it's cold, one wants to stay warm, so I went about it. I was quite content sitting where I was.
Texas is ugly in the winter. Everything dies. Now, where I come from, the plant life knows how to survive cold temperatures. The grass stays lush and dark, and the trees drop