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About Literature / Hobbyist poetanddidntknowit34Female/United States Recent Activity
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SO, sorry I've been really inactive, but I've moved all of my current writing to Tumblr. If you want to follow me, my regular blog is poetanddidntknowit34 and my writing blog is apocalypticangelimagines. I'll be deleting this account soon, so I'll be disappearing soon.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick DING! The little timer that was shaped like a chicken rang out a cheerful reminder that the cookies were done, and it was time for Carol to take them out of the oven. She pulled her oven mitts on and replaced the hot metal tray with a new one, and reset the chicken for twelve minutes. As she was pulling hot cookies off the tray and placing them on the cooling rack, there was a firm knock on the front door of her house.

Carol put down her spatula and wiped her floured hands on her apron as she walked to open the door. “Daryl, hi.” She smiled when she saw her friend leaning on the rail of her porch picking at his fingernails.

“Got any smokes?” The man pushed himself off the rail and walked past Carol into the bright house.

“Upstairs on my nightstand. There should be some matches, too.” She shut the door behind him as he climbed the stairs two at a time. “I made cookies!” Carol yelled up the stairs as she placed two cookies on a small plate. She could hear him coming back down the stairs again, slower this time. “Want some?” She came back into the hallway to see Daryl standing at the foot of the stairs with a small black notebook in his hand. The book was being held open to a page on which the number “18” was circled in thick, demanding ink.

“What’s this?” The air seemed to be sucked out of the room.

Carol set the plate roughly down on the hall table, and stalked up to him. “If I’d known you’d go through my personal things, I wouldn’t have let you go up there alone.” Not true. She’d left the notebook open to that page next to her pack of cigarettes. But accusing Daryl of snooping was easier than the truth. She reached for the book, but he pulled it out of her reach.

“Carol,” His voice was soft, but stern as he looked her dead in the eyes. “What is this?”

They stared each other down, the thick silence barely being filled by the quiet “tick tick tick tick” of the chicken timer. “None of your business, Dixon.” Carol snatched the notebook out of his hands and brushed roughly past him to climb the stairs. “Those cookies are for you. Help yourself to them as you leave.” She was done with this conversation.

Daryl continued to stare at the spot she’d vacated. “Carol, are you keeping track of the people you’ve killed?”

Carol stopped walking halfway up the staircase. She was staring at the polished wood. Tick tick tick tick tick. “I’m afraid, Daryl.”

She wasn’t sure how it happened, but she was now back at the bottom of the stairs, wrapped in a strong hug from the only man she’d ever felt safe around. “I’m afraid.” She whispered again and began to cry.

“I can’t say ‘it’s OK’. Cause nuthin of the world we live in is OK. But torturing yourself ain’t helpin.” He paused. “My ma always used to tell me that I can’t let my past define me.” He hugged her tighter. “Your past doesn’t define you, Carol. The people you’ve killed doesn’t change who you are.”

“And who am I?” She choked out through her tears.

“You’re Carol.”

“I’m afraid that just ‘Carol’ isn’t enough.”

“It is.”


“What can I do?”

“Just this.”


Daryl held her until she stopped crying, and even longer after that. Carol was exhausted, afraid, but also somehow determined. Just ‘Carol’ was enough. It was going to have to be.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick DING!
Daryl finds Carol's tally of the people she'd killed.

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I’m staring up at a ceiling; not sure why. It feels as though… my brain is underwater. Yeah. Like my whole subconscious is underwater, and my body is just floating along without me. Hello? I try to call out, but the only thing that comes out is a long, low, guttural moan. There’s a nagging sensation that I’ve heard this sound before, but I dunno where. I’m starving. That’s the one thing I do know.

Pushing myself up to my feet, I stand in the barn, swaying a bit until I can catch my balance. I’m still underwater. Hungry. The thought and the feeling come back once more, with force. There’s a door, and a sound outside of it. I go through it.

There’s someone near me, to the left, eating something. Maybe someone. I dunno. I stumble over and fall to my knees next to him. Who are you? I try to ask. The groan is back. Who am I? I wonder, but I stop caring who I am or what I’m doing, because the smell of the person this other guy is eating hits me like a train. And I’m still starving.

I reach down to take a fistful of the blood and guts that smell just like steak right about now, when I smell veal only a few steps away. I decide that having my own meal is better than sharing someone else’s.

I quickly learn that one of my hands is only a metal stump, and when I try to eat with it, I only end up stuck. I try the other hand. It’s better, though missing two fingers.
I tear off a chunk of this unknown’s side, and bring it to my mouth. I’ve never felt so satisfied in my life. I feel like I should care that I’m eating someone, but all I care about is the fact that I’m hungry. So I keep eating. Tearing. Chewing. Starving.

I hadn’t been eating long when I heard a strangled moan and a thud. I tore off one more piece of my meal before looking up to see what had happened. The other one I saw eating is dead. There’s someone standing in front of me. Watching me. Weapon in hand. For a moment, I feel like I should recognize him. But then I just feel hungry.

I stand up and try to walk towards him; I trip a little on my previous meal. Still getting used to the underwater. This meal is crying now, sobbing even. The closer I get, the worse the crying gets. The word ‘pussy’ flashes across my mind. I dunno.

I reach out to take a bite, and he shoves me back. Hey. I yell out. It comes out as an angry snarl. So, I try again. The nagging feeling starts up again. Maybe I do know him. I’m still hungry, though, so I keep walking towards him.

He pushes me again, and I spin; the metal club of my right hand propelling me around and forward again, only to be pushed back once more. But, I am hungry, and I’ll be damned if this crying hamburger stops me from eating. I try again.

This attempt gets me a knife in the shoulder. I growl and groan and snarl again, as me and Hamburger go tumbling backwards over my last meal. The knife comes out of my shoulder, as I grab at him for something to bite down on, he pulls the knife out and rears back to stab me again. Then suddenly, the nagging feeling stops. As the knife blade comes hurtling down at my face, a thought floats through my drowned mind, so brief that I’m not even sure what to do with it before everything goes black:

I've been super inactive lately, but here I am. Back once more. :P
I am getting like, supes discouraged. (this happens a lot when I undergo a lot of change at once.)

My grandma (aka the most important person in my whole life) just got diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, my sister is battling an eating disorder, and I'm trying to get organized to leave the country for a month.

Add that on top of the fact that I'm a new vegetarian and a new minimalist, and I can like, feel the judgment rolling off of people when the find out. Especially my family. So, I'm getting discouraged to keep going with the new lifestyles.

I don't mean to just dump this on everyone, but I have nothing going on right now, so I spend all my days at home and that gives me a lot of time to think about this stuff and then I get stressed. (then for some reason I start thinking about war and genocide and other problems in the world and I get more stressed...)
  • Listening to: Place de la République by Coeur de Pirate
  • Reading: What Language Is by John McWhorter
  • Drinking: Arnold Palmer


poetanddidntknowit34's Profile Picture

Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I like having fun and loving my friends.

Favourite genre of music: Pop, showtunes, mix of other things...
Favourite style of art: Dance
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Shell of choice: The kind that you can actually hear things in
Wallpaper of choice: Something with musical notes
Favourite cartoon character: Spongebob Squarepants
Personal Quote: "Beware of the lollipop of mediocrity. One lick and you'll suck forever."

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9king Featured By Owner Feb 29, 2016  Student Traditional Artist
Good work! You have been unofficially awarded "First Miraculous Deviant" by me! Great literature, I like your style. *Gives you double llama because one is not enough*
poetanddidntknowit34 Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for all the lovely comments and favorites! It's always nice to know that people enjoy my work. :)
Winxhelina Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2015  Hobbyist Filmographer
THe amount of me in your favorite folder is really starting to make me blush. 
poetanddidntknowit34 Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Winxhelina Featured By Owner Dec 28, 2014  Hobbyist Filmographer
Thank you for the faves :)
Winxhelina Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2014  Hobbyist Filmographer
Oh my god - Thank you for watching me!!
poetanddidntknowit34 Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I totally thought I was this whole time! But, I am now, so I fixed it.
Winxhelina Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2014  Hobbyist Filmographer
Well I'm really happy about that :)
archergwen Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
poetanddidntknowit34 Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
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