The Déjà Vu Doll: A Short Story

There it was again. That soft, graceful lullaby.  

 Okay, let me start from the beginning.  

I don't know what made me want to go through my old things. Just me being nostalgic, I guess. So anyways, I had just asked my dad where I could find some of my old stuff.  

"You could try the attic. I'm not sure how long since I've been up there, though. Be careful. And put on good shoes!” He said. I ran up to my room and grabbed my old black high-top converse and slipped them on over my fuzzy socks I got last Christmas.  

I walked down the hall and to the stairs that led up to the attic. I hadn’t remembered anyone going up there for years, so I didn’t know what I was expecting. On the first step, I put all of my weight on it to make sure it was stable. It creaked but it held still, so I went up. I was on the third step or so when I heard a faint singing. It sounded like a girl younger than me, but so on-pitch, it sounded fake. The second I popped my head up into the frigid room made of wood, I could sense the intense amount of dust. I looked around at a bunch of old stuff I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from, but the fact that nobody had been up here for years sent a chill down my spine. Once I was fully standing in the small room with the low, irregular ceiling, the singing stopped abruptly. I went over to a box that had “Abigail’s toys” written across the top and opened it curiously. The first couple things I saw were old story books and half-naked Barbie dolls. I was shuffling though the box not knowing what I was looking for, when I saw it.  

Six-Word Memoir

I am about ready to explode

six-word memoir

It's not a hobby, it's life

Six Word Memoir

I've made a mess of things.

Six-Word Memoir

Lots of dreams, not always realized.

Six word memoir

                              


                                        I just want to be friends                    
                                     

Extraordinary

Sometimes 

On a boring day like this 

I feel like doing something 

Extraordinary. 

But I can’t  

Because I’m ordinary 

And I’m in stupid math class 

In a falling apart 

72-year-old school 

In a stupid little town 

Where our only fame  

was born from a  

Long distance runner 

Who died 

Drunk driving.  

But he had cool hair. 

 

Nowadays 

All you have to do  

Is get people’s attention 

By being the absolute best 

The most impressive 

Over all the rest 

 

To the people who can throw the football the farthest; 

Run the fastest; 

You lucked out. 

To the people who can scrawl some words on a page 

And leave the reader’s mouth hanging open; 

Go for it.  

Because there’s still those people  

Sitting around  

Who were always only halfway 

To life’s expectations.  

When asked what their hobbies were, 

All they could ever think of was 

Eating; 

Because it’s better than being empty. 

Sleeping; 

Because it’s better than being awake. 

And living out those glorious days where you don’t have those urges 

To punch everyone in the face. 

 

To all those people; 

You’re not alone. 

Six Word Memoir

My rainbow always ends in pink.

Six-Word Memoir

                     

                                           
                                                           Do things right the first time

Six-Word Memoir

winning is optional, trying is essential.

Six-Word Memoir

˙op oʇ ʇɐɥʍ ǝɯ llǝʇ ʇ,uop

Six-word Memoir

" In my world, I am nothing."

Who are You?

I am a person who is in love with art and music. I'm afraid of lakes, failure, loneliness, and enclosed spaces. I am constantly bored, a detailed observer, and like talking a lot. In my fingerprint, I see something like a magical tunnel, going to wonderland. A life, and a place where everyone is as confused as you are, and everything is unpredictable. My fingerprint is chaos with all sorts of futures ahead of me, yet different, unlike any other.

A Spiral of Feelings

A mixed feeling of colors.

           From the saddest of blues.

                       To the happiest of yellows.

The endless twists and turns of feelings.

When I’m with my family that’s when it’s the brightest of yellow.

I am who I wish to be.

                         I could be angry, sad, or even humble.

                    When I get sad I turn blue.

I can see a rainbow of feelings falling like a spiral

Encoded Through My Veins

Encoded Through My Veins

 

Lines, Lines, Lines, all I see is Lines

Floating, Drifting, Spinning, Swimming,

Through my veins, Constantly moving,

Through my veins I see waves of,

Sorrow,

Hatred,

Joy,

and drive,

Like a whirling hurricane,

I will just keep moving, even when the wind stops,

Encoded, though, my, veins