Muse 132: the magic box

My cousin has a magic box in the basement. No one ever went downstairs with her, but she always had everything we needed. Once we were building a fort in the living room with chairs, blankets and she got really excited, more excited than my two year old niece, and ran downstairs. When she came back, she was holding a turtle that projected stars from it's shell. It was perfect for our childhood illusion. She turned it on, and the Big Dipper lit up on the ceiling, but we were sitting with our legs propped up on the chairs. Her face looked visible disappointed at the dismembered fort.

"What happened?"
"Oh," Sam shrugged, "it's blocking the TV."

Muse 99: Stories We Tell

found via weheartit

I was eight when I heard my first ghost story. It was worse than riding a roller coaster, worse than sitting alone in the dark, wondering if my parents remembered where I was. My cousin sat across from me, in broad daylight, with a bowl of cereal in front of her, as she told me about the dumb little girl that didn't know what laid in the dark. As soon as the story ended, I began that little girl, wary of shadows, crying when the blackness crept towards me. I cuddled with my blankets and hid underneath its comfort until I forgot about the stories. But the stories were warnings. Soon I forgot all about the ghosts in the darkness and wanted to walk in, wanted to bring light where the shadows were. The stories were told too early, she should've told me later, because in those stories, the ghosts always win.

Muse 91: Designated

found via unknown

As the years have gone by, I'm sitting in this car alone, wondering why it's taken so long for me to realize that you're the one who's been driving. You pick me up when I'm crying, when I'm weak, and you don't ask questions when I begged to be taken back. You look at me worried with a heavy heart, unsure of how to fix me. It used to be irritating, like the unknown hand that wouldn't let me drink. But like always, I wake up feeling more hollow and empty than ever. Just as I wake up to cold bed sheets and wonder who is left, you open the door and smile. All I do is cry thankfully that you have not changed. 

Thank you, mom.

Muse 74: Got Milk?

found via jawshbates

Milk isn't necessary, you know. It's liquid cream that contributes to nothing but fat and bones. I don't know why my parents made me drink it when I was young; they had me drinking organic whole milk so fatten me up like a cow, but as I grew older milk felt thick and filmy in my throat. So I switched to two percent and noticed that it ran much more smoothly, it was easier and less complicated. When I got to middle school, I noticed that the girls around me were drinking 1%. At first I hated it, it tasted like water and I thought I might as well buy 2% and mix it myself, but I grew used to the change in high school and stuck to it. The thought of going back to 2%, or dare me - whole milk - was too much for my throat to handle, so I stayed with 1% until someone introduced skim milk. This was the type that wouldn't put weight on me at all, and I loved it because everything was easier. Then college came and I realized that I didn't need milk at all - they offered soy in the dining halls. Within a month, I kissed goodbye to skim... 1%... 2% ... my virginity, and the thought of ever being whole again.

Muse 67: Age of Innocence

source unknown

Her bones felt achingly sore. Not that the comparison should make sense when she was merely fourteen years old. Fourteen felt like such an incredible age... of confusion. Her parents were already asking her what she wanted to do with her life, and the teachers, who didn't care, weren't making the decisions any easier. She was only fourteen, and her body shouldn't feel this way. Old and aching, as if she were ninety years old trapped in a youthful body. Every decision she wanted to make was challenged by a lingering fear that anything could change. As she squirmed in bed, wishing her ligaments didn't ache so much, she suddenly felt a wetness between her legs. Were her bones breaking apart? Her fingertips awkwardly touched where it hurt and came back up with blood.