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Trista's avatar

Late again but hey, it's not two months this time.

Who Are You?

Someone has defaced me. I no longer match the rest of my family. I have marks on me. I do not know what they are, what they mean. I do not like it.

Visitor 1

There is a car parked in front of me and people standing on top of me. So rude. I can hear everything that is being said through the human’s sobbing. The words: hospital, accident, and family stand out. I do not understand why they have to be wearing dirty shoes and stand directly on top of me while they talk. There is a perfectly good section of grass a few feet away. They really should use that instead of me.

Visitor 2

Unlike the first humans who stood on top of me, upset about some accident, the next group of humans are happy. They seem to be celebrating. It is a different group. I will likely never know what happened to the first group. This second group, I like them more. There is something about them that feels lighter than the first group. They are happy about something. Again, I hear words: remission, holiday, life. And once again, once they leave, I will never know what becomes of them.

Visitor 3

These humans are the worst yet. There is crying, there is yelling, there is stomping. It hurts. If I could talk, I would tell the big humans to pick up the little humans and leave me in peace. There are two little humans and more words, mixing together from both: ice cream, crack, mother, back. Then it happens. Something cold lands on me and the smallest human lets out a scream that must hurt human ears. The human is picked up and they leave. No one cleans me.

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Evelyn Camu's avatar

Love this short story

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