Personal Perspective

So I have finally decided upon the personal perspective story I shall write.

There's the goal line, only a few feet away. I can see my grandfather taunting me on the other side. Hurry up boy! he calls. I'm coming I want to say but no sound escapes my throat. The air is thick and the colors vivid. I move slowly, my goal slowly receding. I have an opponent. He bursts forth from the earth beneath my feet. I go rolling, skidding across what was, seconds ago, green grass but is now sand. I am underwater, yet able to breathe. I am Spongebob? I commandeer a boat and drive toward someplace familiar and warm; distracted I flip through radio stations. The boat is slow. It seems I will never arrive at my destination. It seems I have sat in this car forever. An eternity. Somewhere my neck hurts.

I am lost so I forget. Where I am holds no bearing in my mind. There is music in the background. I watch a horse gallop next to our car, his muscles in his neck pulsing, legs pulling in beat with that music. There is a bench. He jumps it and transforms mid-flight into a swallow, wings flapping to that same beat. I sigh, turn my face from the window and those phantom animals dissipate into shadow and thought. Voices intrude. My parents? I vaguely wish the voices away. I glance at my slumbering brother and suffer a shadow of worry that they and the music will wake him but dismiss it. He will sleep on. I leave the car again. Lost once more. A forest. Demons. Epic battles. Love, perhaps...

Why is this screen so small? My fingers run over the key pad, a desperate attempt to remain connected to friends. To sanity. Little brothers offer little comfort. Older sisters are strange. Parents argue, grandparents dote. My friends are my salvation. What's that one face again? >.< ...no... >.@ Yes. That's the one. It effectively represents my feelings. Annoyed. Traveling is no fun. My legs are asleep and my head hurts from concentrating on this small screen. What?! :O What did she mean by that? Well if she's going to be like that then I just wont reply. "Eli, guess what Julia just txted me!" He'll be sympathetic. I miss him. Bobby snores. Momma and Daddy are playing some ridiculous game. I didn't want to leave this weekend. Why hasn't he responded?! The music isn't even all that great.

Perspective Blurbs

What fun! My beloved Cutt-throat has assigned perspective essays since we have so recently finished a book so rank with confusing, selfish perspectives that she fears we might have lost our own. The book is, of course, Faulkner's As I Lay Dying.

This first one is to be from me during any random event...I've yet to choose an event...I shall move on and come back.

This next one is to be from three peoples', different perspective. Same event mind you, just a different perspective.

"This is my city, this is my own." Words pump through my head, angry and possessive. Songs have declared and fortified my right to live and be here. Such pathetic weakness. Such ridiculous fear. The fear in their faces inspires such intense hatred within my soul. It reminds me of shadowy corners and tears shed in the dark. A light and pain a little too intense. Not my own though. Not mine. This is mine. This. All of this. I have a right to be here. I have been suppressed. Too long have I turned my head. Pop knew. So did Darren, before he was locked up. The cool steel in my hand is a manifestation of my power. Why do they cower? It's stupid. These stupid people. They brought this upon themselves. I am here to claim what is mine and they will give it to me. Or else.

"Let's go." Fear and overwhelming determination. Let's get this over with. It's just one more hit, regrettable but nothing more. I am a product of my environment. But then, so is my family. They shouldn't have to suffer because they're father is a coward so I will suck it up: spit in the face of this fear and growing morality. The fear in the faces surrounding me and my crew brings shame. If my good mother only new what her son did to bring electricity to her humble apartment. Too humble. And this money will finance my sister's doctor's appointments. Remember, family first. It is regrettable though. Especially if someone tries to be a hero. There's no victory in killing these people. Determination. Forget about the people, remember the family.

I am cold. This isn't right. This doesn't happen. Not so randomly. Not on such a pretty day. The sky is so blue today. A perfect day. Except for this. This shouldn't have happened. Not to me. Not on such a pretty day. So blue. I was just standing in line. We all were. Just standing, waiting to conduct our mundane business while outside the sun shone and the sky was blue, or white. Was the sky white? That doesn't make sense. Red? No. Blue..and yellow and white and red...
They say greed is the devil's tool. Was that the devil in the eyes of those three men? Maybe? The scrawny, dark one definitely. He was the one yelling. He was the one who brought pain. Was I greedy? Did I deserve this? I only wanted my money. So did they. Is greed blue? I am red and white and blue and yellow. The blue stain is my greed, the red is leaving me quickly.