cancer
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2006
- Messages
- 20
Lucifer…
O, flower of magnet, whose pistils off and sprout, expounding from its wiry stalk a bouquet of silk-threaded leaves. How could I get it? Or, how could I…?
Water. Water. I need a message and it’s you! Only you, baby—only you. Natalie. Na-ta-lee…
The flower; purple, wilting, disconnected from the classroom and. But for Natalie?
Lucifer…
I think Natalie—bright girl. I’ve been in special education for nearly twenty years now, which brings me back to her because I’ve never quite had anyone like Natalie during my time here. See, I deal a lot with students that are much more severe cases than Natalie’s; full-spectrum autism, children with severely profound mental retardation. Natalie doesn’t appear confound by such disabilities—in fact, she seems even above the average in terms of cognitive development when compared to the average six or seven year-old.
Natalie…
What? A child; a realized seed shuddered down the canal, who crawled out by way of mental process; ended up fingered by the rusty digits of a neighbor and shoehorn.
You show me water, Lucifer. My mind, water has washed over it. It’s come through—I’m crying now, Lucifer. You show me yourself, you need vitality.
Lucifer, alive! But for water? I have cried for water so that you might drink and prosper.
Lucifer…
“I thought I goddamn told you, Nat! Shut the fuck I’m before I put my boot in your stupid ass!”
“Yes, um, sir.”
“You don’t realize what a bad little girl you are. You don’t… probably ‘cause you’re such a damn retard.”
“…”
“Don’t you say something to that? Didn’t your goddamn mother ever teach you any manners, kid? No? Well, you don’t need my fat dick in your snatch twice in a day do you? Stupid bitch, that little pussy you got there ain’t worth it anyway!”
Water.
Natalie had to finish her daily assignment. But as she sat in class her eyes rolled behind to a reservoir. Natalie’s eyes rolled back forward and brought with them her well’s water; this shocked her but she doubled over, catching what she could of it in a pair of cupped palms. She stood and walked ever so cautiously so as not to waste a drop. She approached the potted flower, Lucifer. Lucifer was the Christian name of this dying flower.
She approached Lucifer slowly. Before him she quenched his soil. Lucifer might have fertilized Natalie. A flower’s enlightened this fresh babe.
“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing? I am not to be disrespected, I am a teacher! That is my flower and you’ve minded it?”
“It said it needed water. I only had my mind’s water. Sorry for minding your flower, it wont happen again. I just, Lucifer was thirsty—very thirsty.”
“Lucifer?”
Mr. Natalie’s father busted through the classroom door and screamed in frenzy; his eye sockets bulging cock-dry. “I want to know just what the fuck is going on here?!”
Lucifer… is that you speaking?
Yes. Thank you for life.
Can we talk forever, Natalie?
I want that very much.
You can do whatever you want, y’know?
I want for you to tell me how to live.
Life?
O, flower of magnet, whose pistils off and sprout, expounding from its wiry stalk a bouquet of silk-threaded leaves. How could I get it? Or, how could I…?
Water. Water. I need a message and it’s you! Only you, baby—only you. Natalie. Na-ta-lee…
The flower; purple, wilting, disconnected from the classroom and. But for Natalie?
Lucifer…
I think Natalie—bright girl. I’ve been in special education for nearly twenty years now, which brings me back to her because I’ve never quite had anyone like Natalie during my time here. See, I deal a lot with students that are much more severe cases than Natalie’s; full-spectrum autism, children with severely profound mental retardation. Natalie doesn’t appear confound by such disabilities—in fact, she seems even above the average in terms of cognitive development when compared to the average six or seven year-old.
Natalie…
What? A child; a realized seed shuddered down the canal, who crawled out by way of mental process; ended up fingered by the rusty digits of a neighbor and shoehorn.
You show me water, Lucifer. My mind, water has washed over it. It’s come through—I’m crying now, Lucifer. You show me yourself, you need vitality.
Lucifer, alive! But for water? I have cried for water so that you might drink and prosper.
Lucifer…
“I thought I goddamn told you, Nat! Shut the fuck I’m before I put my boot in your stupid ass!”
“Yes, um, sir.”
“You don’t realize what a bad little girl you are. You don’t… probably ‘cause you’re such a damn retard.”
“…”
“Don’t you say something to that? Didn’t your goddamn mother ever teach you any manners, kid? No? Well, you don’t need my fat dick in your snatch twice in a day do you? Stupid bitch, that little pussy you got there ain’t worth it anyway!”
Water.
Natalie had to finish her daily assignment. But as she sat in class her eyes rolled behind to a reservoir. Natalie’s eyes rolled back forward and brought with them her well’s water; this shocked her but she doubled over, catching what she could of it in a pair of cupped palms. She stood and walked ever so cautiously so as not to waste a drop. She approached the potted flower, Lucifer. Lucifer was the Christian name of this dying flower.
She approached Lucifer slowly. Before him she quenched his soil. Lucifer might have fertilized Natalie. A flower’s enlightened this fresh babe.
“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing? I am not to be disrespected, I am a teacher! That is my flower and you’ve minded it?”
“It said it needed water. I only had my mind’s water. Sorry for minding your flower, it wont happen again. I just, Lucifer was thirsty—very thirsty.”
“Lucifer?”
Mr. Natalie’s father busted through the classroom door and screamed in frenzy; his eye sockets bulging cock-dry. “I want to know just what the fuck is going on here?!”
Lucifer… is that you speaking?
Yes. Thank you for life.
Can we talk forever, Natalie?
I want that very much.
You can do whatever you want, y’know?
I want for you to tell me how to live.
Life?
