"This meaningful quote is very meaningful"

Misleading subject title. This has absolutely nothing to do with science.

So anyway. I have a huge urge to post all my FP stuff here just so I could infest every corner of the internet world with a bunch of meaningless mediocrity, but it'd be incredibly pointless and a complete waste of time. Should be studying for my finals. Instead, I'm surfing the web, browsing through really bad "literature" and crunching on a bunch of pickles. I ate a whole jar today. 800% of my daily amount of sodium. For serious. At least I wouldn't get fat; 0 calories total. xD

“Honey, we’re going to take a bath now. We’re going to get clean again.”

The words were said calmly—no trace of a tremble in her voice. Silent tears traveled from her dead, lackluster eyes down the length of her gaunt face.

“We’re going to get clean again?” Mirele repeated.

Her mother nodded.

“Then why are you crying, mama?”

“Oh, I’m just being silly, bubbalah. We’re going to get clean.”

“We’re going to get clean?” Mirele repeated again.

“Yes.” Her mother affirmed.

“Alright,” she said, clutching her doll and following her mother to join the line of people outside.

She took a few strides with her small, skinny legs before stopping and frowning.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bubbalah?”

“Dollie doesn’t want to go.” Mirele clutched the doll to her tiny chest. “Her head’s all droopy today. Dollie is sad. She doesn’t want to go.”

“Don’t be silly. Your doll is…your doll is fine. Her head has always been like that. It was drooping like that yesterday. And the day before that. For months.”

“Well. Then dollie’s been sad for quite a long time now,” the daughter replied. She looked away from her mother towards the uniformed men hurrying everyone along.

“Come on now, Mirele.” Her mother pushed her forward with a hand on her small back. She walked reluctantly, hugging the doll even tighter now.

They continued in silence for a while, until a woman a few steps ahead halted and began to shriek. “No! Nonononono! Not going any further! You can’t make me go! How can you do this?” she screeched, flailing her arms, stomping madly on the floor like an angry bull, desperately tearing her hair out. A few tufts of hair fell to the ground around her.

“Stop.” A uniformed man grabbed her forcefully. When she attempted to break free of his grasp through wild scratching and kicking, he brutally shoved her to the floor, where she continued to sob and whimper, whispering “no..." over and over again. Another uniformed man came, and together they dragged her out of the line away from sight.

The atmosphere grew tenser. The families pulled each other closer; they grew silent.

“Where are they taking her?” Mirele asked, blinking her wide eyes up at her mom.

“She- she doesn’t want to take a bath. They’re taking her where she…won’t need to take a bath.”

“Oh.”

“Are you nervous?” the mother asked.

“Why should I be? Aren’t we going to take a bath now, mama?” Mirele paused for a second. “But dollie’s very nervous, mama. She says she’s scared. She doesn’t like those men.”

Her mother wouldn’t reply.

After a bit more walking, they reached a little cottage. It was at this red brick cottage that they were led inside and told to strip for the baths.

“Leave the doll,” a man said before they entered the showering facility.

“No!” Mirele shouted. “What if someone takes her? What if I can’t fin—” Her mother clamped a hand over her mouth. Mama had begun crying again, holding on to Mirele even more desperately than Mirele gripped the doll.

“Shh…” her mother said soothingly. “Leave her. The man will take good care of her until—” she choked on a sob. “—until we come back, alright?”

Mirele took a good look at the man; she had no illusions that he would actually take care of her doll, but she let dollie go anyway. Dollie fell to the floor, her ragged body slumping in an awkward position.

Mother and daughter entered the baths.

The doll cried.

---

Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp, Poland 1944

So. This is just some random shit I wrote that i set as private for like months (since it's so bad). but then i decided whatever. theres nothing special or amazing about it. i was um like supposedtoheadtowardstwincest but then i just gave up.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-


Sitting on the ledge was the only thrilling thing I was able to do. There wasn’t even a small swing or something in our backyard to give a kid a sense of adventure. I was like a small ball of energy trapped inside a tediously boring house. You’d think there would’ve been at least something mildly entertaining to a six year old in a fucking six floor mansion, but each and every room radiated monotony, and it was suffocating me. Most children had a treehouse, a playroom, some monkey bars to swing on, or perhaps a ‘pirate hideout’. I had nothing.

 

And so I had to use what I could find. Had to stretch my imagination a little more than other kids. Had to imagine grand, faraway mountains in place of these lackluster beige walls. That coat hanger was a wicked old witch with dreadfully saggy skin and a single glimmering gold tooth. And sometimes, if I tried hard really hard, that mahogany work desk could become an enormous red scaled dragon. No matter what I did though, I couldn’t get it to eat my parents.

 

At that moment, I had been sitting on the banister of the staircase way up on the sixth floor. My feet were dangling dangerously off the ledge; one tiny jump and I would go tumbling through the air, splattering finally on those blood red carpets on the first floor. But at the moment my thoughts weren’t even close to suicide. Rather, I was savoring the short feeling of danger and adventure. In the distance, a dragon was coming—enormous wings flapping powerfully, headed for my direction. I sat atop an incredibly tall cliff, anticipating its arrival, my shield and sword ready to strike its hard scales in a fight to the death. It bared its teeth, and—

 

“Alexei,” someone whispered close to my ear, startling me so much I almost toppled off the ledge. I tried to regain my balance on the rail, but before I was able to stabilize, a strong push to my back forced me off the ledge and down.

 

Down I went, and I couldn’t really remember much if it. One minute I was falling at increasing speed, the next I suddenly stopped. It was a while before I got out of shock enough to realize that I was hanging from my sweater. It was caught onto a small light fixture nailed onto the railing of the stairs. It was there for any late night trips down the stairs—to avoid stumbling down the stairs and whatnot.

 

My heart beat wildly, and I almost cried in relief. I twisted around to get a hold of the stair rails, and then swung over onto the stairs, panting.

 

That’s when I suddenly cared to find out who’d done it. I looked up at the ledge I fell off, not really expecting my attacker to have lingered that long, but I was wrong.

 

Ivory, my twin. He was just standing there, staring down like he hadn’t just tried to kill his brother, small smirk adorning his face.

 

I didn’t know how to react.



10/22/08 57 minutes