Her Name Was Thumbelina: a Gripping Tale of the Inner Workings of a Sinner’s Heart
…and this was found in the ventilation shaft. Evidence seems to point to the landlord hiding it there wanting to avoid an investigation on the suicide of one nobody and the coinciding murder of another nobody. It shall be known that while these people, and dare I say, souls, were lost at the time, any one of us could have seen the signs and prevented the tragedy from taking hold and forcing innocence to submit to the immoral impulses of lust, substance abuse, and the most counter of cultures. The diary reads as follows.
December 1st, 2005
My name is Chester. I have decided earlier today to purchase a blank book on which to spill my soul. It will be my dieing wish that this book be burned when I am through with it. My life would make even Poe ask for a tissue. I was born at Mercy, though I was never shown any my whole life. The hospital must have been upon a slope. Because I’ve been downhill destined since I emerged from the womb.
My mom was never there. That’s because she tried to bite the bullet as it entered her skull. You see, my mom killed herself when I was 7. I remember because it was my birthday. The last gift my mom gave me had a pulse. It was a dog. I gave him the name Buddy. We never got along. Later that day my mom went up to the attic, after a prolonged fight with my ever-intoxicated father, it was there that she took the gun, and took her life. I made that dog pay for as long as the memory hurt. That is around when I felt my soul falling into an abyss and it was no turning back.
After dropping into the sewer of society upon dropping out of high school and dropping my father’s cold casket into its grave, I needed something. My new father was not a man at all, but a syringe filled with the tears of a generation. My addiction grew more and more each day. I’d quiver if I went more than a day without seeing my dad. My apartment was nothing special, it suited me well. My job was mediocre, so I usually had little problem supporting my habit.
I see the sun peeking now. This apartment complex is so dead; I wish I could join it, but for now I’ll pretend. I will hit the needle like a vinyl to be played. It is then that I will sleep, only to wake to tomorrow’s pain. Goodnight, I know it won’t be a good morning.
…when we walked in we found another book, this one with a woman’s writing. A few feet across the room was a woman, fairly pretty, but scared. Not scared physically, but you saw pain, even in her cold, dead grimace.
July 18th 2005
My name is Thumbelina. I found my old unused diary from when I was 13. I think I’ll begin to fill it up again. Well things have been going slowly down hill for me since I was 13. I had to drop out of med school; I just couldn’t keep my grades up. I decided to stay out of my parent’s home though. I found an unimpressive apartment but it’s the best I can afford. My job at the bar can’t cover much. I think I’m gonna wrap it up for now, but don’t worry, I’ll write more tomorrow!
...it seems like there might have been a struggle, I heard Bill say the boy had scratches on his neck. You hate to see them die so young…
August 23rd 2005
Sorry Diary! It’s been way more than a month. A lot has happened! I went out last night and met this guy Peter. He is the most handsome man I have ever seen. Dimples, powder blue eyes, wavy blonde hair, what more could I have asked for? I don’t want to rush this though. I think he might be the one. I vow not to write again until him and I make love for the first time.
August 24th 2005
I didn’t want to, Peter made me. I told him no but he wouldn’t stop. I feel weak, less than human. This isn’t how I wanted it to happen. I can’t believe I let my guard down. I know how to get over this. I’m gonna go out tonight. I will rule these streets. I will show that I have to power to initiate this kind of act, and to top it off I’ll get paid for it. I’m going to put on my white dress, and tonight it is going to get dirty.
October 7th 2005
It’s been awhile, but I still feel weak. I have some spare money now though, for the first time. I haven’t seen Peter since that night, except for when I close my eyes. It is then that I see his portrait upon my eyelids. I saw a boy named Anthony tonight, he left and in his place he seemed to have forgotten a needle. I know I shouldn’t, but I so badly want to. My body has seen much, but this, no this is more. This might make it all go away…
…this poor girl, she might have avoided this if she stayed in college, or if she stayed away from that boy. Speaking of which, I find myself curious as to what Ted is finding out in the boy’s room…
“It’s a shame. He’s my daughter’s age.” said Ted. “Look at what he wrote on the 5th.
December 5th 2005
They say when you meet the love of your life, time goes slow. They also say that when you see a train wreck, time goes slow. My love is a train wreck. If only she hadn’t left my heart so mangled, the heroine should heal that anytime soon though. I was driving my rusted chariot downtown when I saw her. Her hair, her eyes, her black dress, her shoes, that girl was on fire, and the smoke filled my lungs. I told her how I longed to find myself looking down at her while my mattress filled as a background. She helped herself into my car and we drove to my house. Then we loved. We loved everywhere. I felt like I never needed to be with another. I saw her scarred smile, and I smiled. We stuck needles in each other’s, and then loved some more. Her sandpaper skin cut me deeper and deeper than any needle could, I felt like I could stop how my life was going and start it all over with her. It was as though we loved all over creation.
Now she is sleeping, I believe I will join her. This thought seems to foreshadow our futures oddly. I’m not sure how…
December 5th 2005
I decided to bring my book with me tonight. This very odd person picked me up tonight. He seemed desperate for love, like a hurt child. He was the most focused lover I had ever had before though, it was mediocre to me. Then he tried talking to me, it was so boring I fell asleep. I just woke up and I’m not leaving until he pays me. I suppose I will just drift back to sleep now, he isn’t showing any signs of waking.
“What a shame” I said to Bill
“Maybe if they had different circumstances, they might have known real love” Bill said back. “Ted, I’ve read enough.”
But I had to read more…
December 6th 2005
I have woken up to the sundown. I have extinguished the light of my world. Thumbelina was not pure, she wanted money. It was as if someone took my heart, and sacrificed it to her, the goddess of lust. I told her that I could give her anything she wanted, she said all she wanted was money. She raised her arm to strike me, but I grabbed her at the wrist. I would make her mine again. It was after I did that, I realized the terrible thing I had done. She was crying and just demanded money. It was like the money made her feel powerful, like the spoils for the actions her body committed. She tried to run, so I followed her. I needed one last kiss. We arrived at her apartment, incidentally, in the same complex! She tried to fight me off and scratched my neck. I shook her so hard that her head went back, and she was no more. I laid her down and got my kiss. I returned to my room. I have done too much. I cannot be allowed to live. If I am caught, they will kill me. I don’t know what to do. My mind is racing now. I’m sweating. I smell of death. I shoot myself full with a needle and begin to contemplate shooting myself. I picked up the gun, and now it is held to my head. I’m going to join you in your sleep. Her name was Thumbelina, and I loved her to death.
…it was then that the writing stopped and I knew the truth. To honor the dead, I took the book and burned it.
1 comment:
That was amazing.
You are so brilliant!
I may just have to read that again. ;]
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