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Array
(
[sid] => 59833
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Phone Calls
[time] => 2004-08-12 02:05:36
[hometext] => this is an old 1 i wrote, 1 of my firsts, when i waz 12
[bodytext] => 26/9/02 Heart pounding she tore from the scene of the crime as fast as her legs could carry her. He was gone, and there was nothing she could do to bring him back. She knew that Paul had done the deed but she would be the one to get the blame. She had threatened him for Gods sake. Threatened him with his life. And now he was in the Land of No Return. Destined to forever be alone in the blackness of the After World. She came to her street and galloped to her house, up the stairs and into her room. She locked the door and collapsed on her bed. She looked at the clock and realised it hade been 45 minutes since that telltale event. Any minute now there would be a phone call from the police asking her down to the station and inquiring about her where-abouts. She got out her pocketknife and marvelled at its evil-splendour as it glinted in the light of her lamp. Should she do it? Yes, she thought as the phone rang. She slit her wrist as her father knocked on the door. As she bled to death she heard her final hearing. ”Sophie? Soph? Open the door..!” She knew no more. *** Sophie died a tragic, but paranoid death. It was not the police coming to take her away, but her grandmother wishing her a happy birthday and good beginning to the rest of her life. That had always been their little joke. ‘Today is the beginning of the rest of your life’. But they hadn’t realised that that was true for every day except one. The day you die. [comments] => 6 [counter] => 190 [topic] => 36 [informant] => bohemian_with_a_pen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )
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