Diary of a Stalker: Entry 1

Monday, April 8, 2013


Today I met the One. Or rather, I saw her and then later imagined meeting her.

I had just walked out the door of my tediously boring Biology 1 class and was headed straight for the lunch line when I crashed into somebody. Now naturally, when you’re only 5’2’’ and the rest of your school is somehow so pumped with testosterone that they’re all 6 foot even, you tend to only be able to see other people’s stomach, waist, or what lies just below… And who wants to see that? So, as the only alternative available other than looking up and exhausting my neck muscles, I choose look down at the legs and feet of my peers.

As a fact, you can tell a lot from what people wear on their lower appendages. For example, a skirt following dress code implies that the girl is a little uncomfortable with the idea femininity and has been forced into the ideal because of certain circumstances. A skirt just barely passing the mark implies that the wearer is very comfortable with femininity but still maintains the belief that the dress code will always be enforced. As a side note, this is absolutely not true. Finally, a skirt that most definitely does not comply with dress code, and very possibly not with the purpose of covering the lady parts either, implies that the girl is, well, promiscuous, to put it lightly. This was the type of skirt Amy Pemperwinkle was wearing on the day that I “met” her.

Once again, I was looking down, which is a surefire way to not see where you’re going and maybe, possibly, definitely run into somebody. It just so happened that that somebody would be Miss Pemperwinkle. If I recall correctly, she was sporting a high-waisted skirt with a very high hem and printed with pink and coral floral patterns. Her choice of shoes was a pair of simple tan ballet flats—quite fitting, if I may say so myself. As was her whole outfit, so obviously, my eyes were naturally drawn from the forest of denim-clad legs to her stunning clothes. And with my eyes followed my body. And that is how, I assume, my face came to be in contact with her stomach.

Admittedly, the moment I saw Amy, I didn’t exactly like what I see. The layers of blush and eye shadow naturally repelled me. But later, as I thought about how her face looked under all that makeup, I came to realize that without it, she would be quite beautiful. And so I’ve submitted myself to finding or taking a picture of her without her makeup, and when I do, I will be able to approach that repulsive mask of artificial ingredients and drown it out with the image of her magnificently clean face and finally meet Amy Pemperwinkle.

Loneliness

            There was once a girl who was shy and quiet. She dressed conservatively in baggy clothing, as if to hide her self from the public eye. She was a girl who was slightly cynical and very worrisome. This girl had habit of analyzing people’s personalities and picking out things that she didn’t like about them. She would build a façade around her dark character to make friends, but carelessly drop it when too caught up in a conversation. And eventually, those friends would walk away from her and never come back. She’d always wondered what it was. Why couldn’t she have a best friend, or somebody that had her same interests and thoughts? She could pick out the people in the crowd that were like that— two doppelgangers of each other.  Oh, how she’d wished to have someone like that.

            One day, the girl discovered something. She’d been having a heated discussion with a boy about school. And she realized that this boy was easier to get a long with than her other friends. So she became his friend, and he, hers. And she thought, maybe if she’d expand her limits of friendship, she’d be happier. So she tried to do just that. And tried. And kept trying. Eventually, it got the point where she had her own kingdom of friends. Yet, at the same time, she’d built a wall around her heart, so as to bulwark any emotions that could hurt her. This girl was so focused on making friends that she’d forgotten exactly why she’d made them. And so, this girl grew to lack emotions.

            In all honesty, the girl had only made friends to feel a bit more like she belonged. She’d had no ulterior motive or specifically cruel reason behind her actions. However, these friends didn’t realize that. And so, like her companions before, they walked away and never came back.

            So the girl cried. She cried a river tears that became an ocean that would eventually drown her. But one day, a boy walked up to her while she was crying in the park across the street. He asked her why she was crying. And she realized that this boy was the same boy as the one she’d befriended so many years before. She told herself that she could trust him. And so she told him her story.

            He didn’t believe her.

            She drowned in her ocean of tears.

Short Story

Michael made a mad dash for finish line, jumping the last hurdle in the process. He felt the strength in his legs and the heard familiar sound of the crowd cheering. Just in time, Michael thought, as he peeked over his shoulder to check out his competition. Looking back at who would finish second, he raised his arms in the air and smiled.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Joshua woke to the desolate cold air in his house and the midnight creak of the floor boards. He shook the sweat from his hair, trying to do the same to the reoccurring dream spinning cobwebs in his mind. Joshua didn't like dreams about his brother, who'd now gone off to college on a scholarship. Still, though, he couldn't help but wonder if that was really what Michael felt when he finished first in his races.

Running his hands through his hair and trying to forget about his brother, Joshua slunk down the stairs to grab a midnight snack. He turned on the lights, looked through the mail, and sipped a glass of orange juice, munching away at a brown-spotted banana.

Joshua picked up a large envelope and looked through the contents, too tired to realize what it was. He read the words at the top of the page aloud. "... Accepted on an academic scholarship." He stood in a chilly silence. He blinked. He took a step. Another step. Joshua slowly approached the staircase and began climb it. He took a left turn, opened the familiar stained door, and entered Michael's room.

Joshua made a 360 degree turn and kept turning until his eye caught his brother's trophy case. Medals. Gold, silver, gold, gold, silver, gold. Awards. Certificates. Accomplishments. All for nothing.

Joshua went back to bed. He slept silently and dreamed of Michael's fall from fame to a hospital bed. That night, Joshua cried.

LOOK QUICK!!!!!

GO TO THE WEBSITE- www.pen-artist.blogspot.com, SEE WHAT YOU THINK, THOUGH YOU MIGHT WANT TO WAIT A COUPLE DAYS, SO I CAN ACTUALLY POST SOMETHING!!!!
-PEN ARTIST

well if anybody bothered with this thing anymore, who knows? i might show interest. yeah that is pretty awful of me considering that i am one of the people who founded this website, blog, thing. But i mean really. Only 2 of us actually post on here and that stopped months ago. I am always wondering how the blog is doing, but then i realize, oh yeah no one ever even bothers with it. So anyway, 2 people posted then didn't, and the other 2 haven't even put up stories or anything! (sorry if you guys are reading this and get offended, you know who i mean) but obviously we don't pay much attention to this little failure of ours, so to the other 3 people that are supposedly sharing this blog with me... we should get rid of it. unless you decide to start writing again and you want to share it with our viewers... well all i can say is that i have almost completely given up, i will check in now and then, but i can't say i expect anything. i might just start my own blog. if i do, which means, when i figure out how, i might try and get the rest of our viewers to follow it. you never know it might be interesting enough for everyone AND possibly their friends, and other bloggers to follow. so all i can say for now is... GOODBYE!!!

Hi

If you are part of the minute amount of readers (so far three), yeah, well, thanks for sticking with our odd obsession with glitter lotion and vampirism for so long.

You probably did not get that. Yeah, read the first post.

Anywho, just wanted to say hi! So:

HI!

HalfWay

On the day I go to school,

I tie the ribbon in a foolish way.

The delicious fragility of this travesty

Has the teacher cross with me.

And for a moment I wish to be

Halfway across the world

Where we still laugh and wish,

Unlike here, where we are tethered

To the strict rules

And high expectations

Of our mentors.

im better than you...

can YOU smell with your mouth?
do YOU have eyes in the back of your head?
are YOU an athletic couch potato?
can YOU campaign for women's suffrage by taking away women's rights?
can YOU ransack a room without stepping foot into it?
can YOU sleep while you are awake?
can YOU wink with both eyes open?
can YOU cut your fingers off while keeping your fingers intact?

I think not.
and that is why I am better than you.

heh heh. my very own words. no copy cats!

Lightning Bringer

The storm pounds down around me. Bloated drops of water strike the stone I stand on. Smaller drops then arc away, spraying me with more liquid. My bare feet are slipping off the stone. Not slowly that I plunge into the rough, angry ocean without seeing what I came to see.I strain my eyes to see through the darkness, waiting for that brief flash of light. The cymbal crash of thunder warns me first. Then, the spear of electricity tears open the sky. When it hits the ocean, you can see the bubbling, sizzling water. My one true fear is dizzyingly close. Seconds later, the harsh, acidic smell crawls up my nose, stinging it. When I close my eyes can still see the flash of light. Then the instant darkness I am plunged into.My feet have frozen with fear. I probably would have fallen off with the next wave that hit my perch, if they hadn't already been hanging on for dear life.My toes feel scraped raw, gripping the stone with all they've got.

Resisting the urge to run takes all of my willpower. I won't leave though, not until I see what I came here for.When the biggest bolt hits, i get a quick, fleeting glimpse. Standing on a rock that no one can get to in this weather, is a figure. That figure is here each time a storm blows through. When I see it, lightning seems to emerge from it. This time though, the figure turns. For the first time, I see the real face of the figure. it is obviously a boy, no one that lives here though. He seems very well built, but his face is really what captures my eye. High cheek bones hold up his deeply tanned skin. I am envious of that, being snow white pale. His hair is a light brown with dark blonde streaks here and there.
From the distance I am at, the eyes stand out the most. They are beautiful, stunning even. They are so pale that they seem to glow in the harsh, burning light. If I was closer, they might be such a pale blue that they are almost translucent. They widen, in what looks to be surprise. It shocks me because I have been coming here for about the past 4-6 thunder storms. The light is then extinguished and the darkness consumes me. the only sound to be heard is the soft pitter-patter of rain as it slowly comes to a halt.

Marriage counseling

I’ve been told by my marriage counselor to step into my wife’s shoes. So now I am wearing 3 inch heeled red pumps. They are a very fashionable accessory and of the brand: Gucci. How do I know this? I seem to have growing interest in women’s Prada, and during these researching sessions, I come across many styles, these shoes included. However, despite the pure beauty of the godly shoes, my feet are killing me. On the bright side, she has to wear those pinchy-toed shoes.

But then my delight is ruined, for at that precise moment, my wife exclaims,
“These are really comfortable!” Shoot! I knew I should have worn those too tight shoes! Good thing I don’t have to wear the red halter dress as well. Though I do seem to be having an attraction towards the dress… But that’s beside the point. The point is, strangely enough, that I’m enjoying this! I get to wear heels without getting weird looks.

Why am I even here? If my wife would just throw out some of her endless supply of shoes and me the rest of the closet space, we wouldn’t be planning to file a divorce in marriage counseling right now! How ironic. How odd. How weird… filing a divorce in marriage counseling!

~~~~~

It has been week after our first counseling session. I know must step into my wife’s clothes. Halter top, here I come…

~~~~~

The weekly counseling sessions have really been the light of my life. I dress in womanly attire regularly, now. I wonder what next week’s session will hold for me…

message to readers

Hey guys! So, I know how nobody reads this website... But i'm going to try to change that! So, if you somehow came across this website, please share it with other people. We would really love to get some feedback. It's just so BORING when we get no comments! And any spelling mistakes? please tell us. So, what do you think? FEEDBACK ACCEPTEd! and as they say: READ AND REVIEW!

Dialogue story

"Hello, Mr. Hobbit"
"Why, hello, child."
"How are you doing today?"
"AAAH! They're all going to nuke us!"
"Please calm down Mr. Hobbit."
"The spirits-they're coming for me!"
"Mr. Hobbit..."
"Burn the witch!"
"Nurse! He's acting up again!"
"Oh, what say you and I go jump off of a cliff together, eh? Much fun, much fun."
"NURSE!"
"Much fun..."
"Yes?"
"Mr. Hob-"
"much, much fun..."
"Just use the sedative!"
"Oh, no need for parachutes. I can fly, see? It will be so, so, so much... so... so much... fun..."
"Finally! Nurse, what took you so long?"
"I'm sorry. Patient 52 was saying that he's Cinderella, again. He's gotten even more delusional than ever."
"I can't believe I've been forced to work in a mental hospital. Soon enough, I'll go insane, too!"
"I really doubt tha-"
"Boom! Boom! Ah! The bombs! No, not the bombs!"
"He woke up?"
"I suppose so..."
"But how?"
"What is this? A poison gas chamber? Would you like me to accompany me into it?"
"His condition is getting worse!"
"Oh, the pretty butterflies. Come with me into the gas chamber!"
"What's happening?"
"I'm the Duke of Ellington! You must do what I say!"
"At this rate, he'll never be released!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Oh, what a horrible dream!"
"Please, let us enter the poison gas chamber, or the Japanese will get us."

The Life and Times of a Not-So-Skinny-Kid

I feel the vibrations of my feet hitting the sidewalk run up my spine. I feel the pounding of my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I feel everything when I'm afraid, but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was pain. The pain in my tired lungs. The pain of overexertion. No! No! No! I don't want to do this! I think.

A whistle blows, and I stop running immediately. I fall to my knees with a loud thump, raising my chubby hands to the sky, silently thanking God. I’m sweating buckets, and I try to look at my feet, embarrassed… But I can’t see them. My stomach is blocking my view

Oh, the pain. The pain that I want to wash away. No, not with sleep, but with Doritos. I want to lick the heavenly cheese flavored goodness off of my fingers.

“Uh, why are you licking your fingers?”

“What?” I raise my eyes to stare at a classmate, index finger in my mouth. I’m salivating like a dog, covering it in spit. Grabbing the attention of the other shorts and t-shirt clad students., I astonish the boy by screaming, “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!?!?” I yank my finger out of my mouth, sending saliva soaring towards his face.

“Nooooo!” He yells in fear, and falls back, trying to escape from the cascade of slobber. But it’s too late, and his whole left cheek is covered in a luminescent liquid dribbling down his neck. “Gross!” He screams like a little girl, going insane with disgust. I spit at him, causing him to run away, horrified. Shrugging, I walk through the path cleared for me, the mob of disgusted looking faces watching my every move.

But before I can get very far, I’m called over to the gym teacher, who says harshly, “YOU THERE! FIVE MORE LAPS!” I fall to my knees again, but this time cursing God, yelling, “WHY?!?!?! WHY?!?!?! WHY?!?!?!”

Then I stand up and waddle away to the track, where I start my slow and painful five laps.

-pen prodigy

Diary of a Vampire

Diary of a Vampire
By Edward Sam Cullen

June 7, 2003

I am a vampire. I have all of the evidence to prove it. I have pale and pasty, cold skin, as well as gold eyes. I even sparkle, though my friend, Tim, is convinced that it’s only the glitter lotion that I put on every morning.

Tim has other dreams. He hates twilight, and I just can’t seem to be able to get him to join Team, Jacob, like me. Tim wants to be part of the mafia in New York City, but when he was beaten up during his initiation, I’m fairly sure that those hopes all went flying out of the window. He managed to pocket a Nerf gun on his way out, though, which he used to shoot his foot with out of pure boredom and insanity. I know what you’re thinking, just a Nerf gun, right? Wrong. Tim lost 2 and one third gallons of blood that day…

But back to me the self-centered jerk that we all love. I work in a cubicle in THE Dunder Mifflin building, but my boss swears that it’s just any other office complex. Says I’m delusional. Psh. Suuure…
Instead of working, I spend my time holed up in that little tiny office space of mine, pulling at my unruly hair, typing away at my Fan Fiction story. I munch at my party sized bag of cheesy Doritos while simultaneously trying to decide whether Bella should get together with Jacob or Edward. I mean, sure, I’m Team Jacob, but I’m still a vampire. I’ve got to stay true to my kind, right?
So, that’s basically what I do at work. I mean, who actually works at work, right? Right? RIGHT? That’s right. No one.
Good. So now that we have all that cleared up, more about my life.... I have an arch enemy. As a matter of fact, he’s a rather harry boy named Jake. I’m absolutely sure that he’s a werewolf.
Everyone calls me Sam, but I just know that my real name is Edward. It even says so on my birth certificate! Oh, wait. Nope. It just says that my name is Sam. Never mind then... But as soon as I’m old enough, I Am legally changing it to my real name! Edward!
I live in California, but I belong in Forks with the love of my life. I’m sure of it. I should totally be there instead of running away from the people that want to take me to the “mental hospital”… Whatever that is. I think they’re really the Vulturi, but in disguise. Yes, that’s gotta be it! No wonder they’re after me! That explains the wanted posters!
My true love will be somebody named Isabel. She won't sparkle like me, though. Oh well... I guess I'll just have to let her use some of my everlasting supply of glitter lotion.
I haven’t met her yet, but when I do, I will introduce myself as Eddy, not Sam, and not-so-slowly weasel my way into her life… starting with science class. I’ll situate myself next to her in science and prove myself a genius. In gym class, I’ll awe her with my amazing ability of speed by completing the mile in under 3 minutes without breaking a sweat. I’m so, so close to my goal. I can run half of a mile in 11 minutes and 17 seconds only! I’m doing so well!
Oh, there I go day dreaming again. Well, I have to go now. My family, Carl, Rosy, Joseph, Allison, and Esther are holding a convention for me. I don’t want to go, but they are baiting me with oh, so tempting glitter lotion. I can’t turn down that offer now, can I?

Edward Sam Cullen

-pen prodigy