But Honey, I Was Born With The World Crumbling Around My Mother's Hospital Bed

But honey, I was born with the world crumbling around my mother's hospital bed

I grew up stepping around the shards with childish innocence

If you didn't want me to take up weapons,

you shouldn't have shattered the world with yours.

Germany Gothic

- there are many fields of flowers. Pick yourself, the sign says. Leave money in box. Leave the money in the box. Bring a knife, not scissors for the flowers. Do not use the one supplied, you don't want your fingerprints on it.

- The playground is empty after eight. Empty. Don't be convinced otherwise. She's not there, the playground is empty.

- If you have a problem, do not approach the teacher watching over the children. Do not approach the mother of three. Smile and greet them, but approach the child waiting behind them. They are the ones truly guarding the children. They will help you. Their guardians guard something different.

- Some time ago, men in brown shirts stole people from their houses. These houses are marked with gold, but not by us. We only know not to step on the gold. The stolen people will not haunt you, the neighbours that watched will.

- This buildings is old, he proudly says. They survived the wars. You smile. You do not asked why they survived. The houses know your question, they grin. Ask them later, he doesn't know.

- A soccer field's lights are always on. People are always playing. Don't approach them; you don't know who they are playing against. Pray they win every night.

- The beggar is not hungry. Not for food. Be kind, and they will ask their price from someone else.

- If you are lost, don't ask the police officer. Ask the street musician. The oldest person in the city doesn't remember a day without that saxophone sounding through the streets. Music is a hobby for many species, and they know better than you where you came from.

- trust the fields. They have seen young girls safely pass. If it calls to you, answer it.

- avoid the people smiling at you, the ones with bright eyes and pretty scarves. No one has seen them here before. Walk beside the ones in grey and black who stare forward, never meeting your eyes. Trust me, they are watching you. If they do meet your eyes, they are telling you you are in danger.

- The bus driver is your friend. The security camera in the back of the bus is not.

-You do not talk to the person in the seat next to yours on the bus. Do not ask them where they're going. Do not ask where they need to get out. Humankind may have buried body language a long time ago, but it will serve you well now.

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creative writing gothic goth aesthetic dark fantasy germany urban fantasy short writing urban gothic regional gothic city gothic country gothic horror stories horror poetry gothic writing

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libraryidealist

8 months ago

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy