The nights of Julian Owens [novell]

Såååå, uh, vet inte

Titel: The nights of Julian Owens
Språk: Engelska
Typ av text: Novell
Genre: uh... typ lite halvprosa eller något, jag vet verkligen inte
Rating: G/PG, beror väl på hur lättpåverkad man är av ord
Beskrivning: Så uh, det här är mest för att öva upp min engelska, och ha det någonstans. Jag har rätt kass engelska, men det är tanken och vad meningarna egentligen vill som hör hit, så ja. UHHHU.

Så det här är mest en massa tankar och känslokrafs för Julian Owens del. Man får gärna läsa. Om man vill.

Inte färdigskrivet.
- - -
/You have to leave now. You can not stay here much longer. The night is too old, and I am starving.
There's a small piece of silk over my bed, in case I forget about you, in case I get lost.
You have to go now, because our mothers aren't here to protect us anymore. No one will be here to defend us.
Slowly the night creeps closer.\

He stares blankly into the velvet like wall. The cold slips through.
/You hurt my bones so badly.
Oh, how do you manage to deserve the self-destruction? There's a couple of hundred knives inside your head. Not a single one is sharp enough.\
The wall crawls onto him, klaustrophobia is a nightmare you'll never wake from.
There's a loud crash, sing it out loud, aloud. Yes, there's a big crash to sing out loud, and his bones are destroyed, crumbled against the black velvet wallpaper.

Now he is frozen deeply indoors, surrounded by the loving snow. Who is he to defeat what he calls human? How is he supposed to love, when the only one he wants is blankly watching him through?
/Please, don't you ever again offer me a room for the night. Please, don't you ever interrupt me again.
All the werewolves' scratches down my back, I'm covering it up with the glass lies you told me nights before.
If you, for a while, were here to stay.\


The poison coloured hair. Copper dyed, yes, this night mr. Cooper went to die. He left him to stay awake alone all the night through.
These new statements are based on nothing but the pavement and his pith. His weak pith, come on, just eat it. Com one, serve yourself.
He sometimes, at night, wakes up beside the feeling of being alone.