Post by adelaide on Aug 16, 2007 13:12:04 GMT -5
ALICIA TURNER
1947-1962
It was strange looking at the grave of someone who had died when they were just a kid. Children's graves were always creepier. Like someone was watching you all over, but with an innocent kind of expression. Not like the rest of the bodies who just sat there, being old.
She didn't like it.
Frankly, Adelaide didn't really know why she had come to the graveyard in the first place. She'd never been here before - this was her first visit, other than just passing by while going up and down the street. Dead people were not her kind of thing. It reminded her of Ireland, where the family graveyard was just over the hillside, housing hundreds of O'Maras in tiny little boxes set into the ground. Her grandparents, and her great-grandparents, and their grandparents.
Dead people were all the same to her - just rotting skeletons. She had no connection with them whatsoever. Except for the fact that she would die one day.
"Wonder how you died. Guess life just ran away from you, huh? Like life's running away from me." It was a depressing scene, like something plucked out of a tragic novel with the crippled girl standing over her mother's grave, who just so happened to die from the same thing that would eventually kill her. What a tear-breaker.
Oh well. There would be another day after this one, she'd get more calluses on her palm from using that old wooden cane, she'd continue to have nightmares about being gasoline'd and match'd. It was just how the world worked. You were born, you had a life to do whatever you wanted to in it, and then you got put into the ground. Unless you were immortal, in which case you got put into the ground way longer than would be expected for a normal person.
If only she had that talent, instead of the useless fish ones she did have. Perhaps then she'd be able to fix herself up. Oh, if only.
[/size]1947-1962
It was strange looking at the grave of someone who had died when they were just a kid. Children's graves were always creepier. Like someone was watching you all over, but with an innocent kind of expression. Not like the rest of the bodies who just sat there, being old.
She didn't like it.
Frankly, Adelaide didn't really know why she had come to the graveyard in the first place. She'd never been here before - this was her first visit, other than just passing by while going up and down the street. Dead people were not her kind of thing. It reminded her of Ireland, where the family graveyard was just over the hillside, housing hundreds of O'Maras in tiny little boxes set into the ground. Her grandparents, and her great-grandparents, and their grandparents.
Dead people were all the same to her - just rotting skeletons. She had no connection with them whatsoever. Except for the fact that she would die one day.
"Wonder how you died. Guess life just ran away from you, huh? Like life's running away from me." It was a depressing scene, like something plucked out of a tragic novel with the crippled girl standing over her mother's grave, who just so happened to die from the same thing that would eventually kill her. What a tear-breaker.
Oh well. There would be another day after this one, she'd get more calluses on her palm from using that old wooden cane, she'd continue to have nightmares about being gasoline'd and match'd. It was just how the world worked. You were born, you had a life to do whatever you wanted to in it, and then you got put into the ground. Unless you were immortal, in which case you got put into the ground way longer than would be expected for a normal person.
If only she had that talent, instead of the useless fish ones she did have. Perhaps then she'd be able to fix herself up. Oh, if only.
