He Received A Stone
Chapter Three: To Be or Not To Be
Being a virgin and horny is not a good mixture. I hate it when I get horny, and there's really isn't anything that I can do about it. I mean, from going to a college where almost every chick in the building is just whoring around. Don't get me wrong. I don't want to be one of those girls that would lose her virginity, and all of sudden she is the next door handle. However, I don't want to be one of those girls that would wait all her life trying to find Mr. Perfect, and he never comes around, nor be that girl that goes searching for Mr. Right and he is completely wrong. I have always wondered, though, what sex felt like for my own experience. I sometimes daydream that the experience is painful, and sometimes I imagine it being completely beautiful. I would often daydream that I would be taken home by a guy, and he would release his inner animal. But, I guess that would never happen due the fact that I hear my mom calling my name for some odd reason. "Miss Francois? Are you there daydreaming again?"
Me- Oh no, sir. I was thinking about how I would end my poem.
Man- Oh, really? Well, why don't you share it?
Me- Oh no, Mr. Reed. I don't think anyone would be interested in it.
Mr. Reed- No. We respect all of our fellow poets.
Me- Um, I don't know. It is kinda of out there. If you know what I mean.
Mr. Reed- Let us be the judge of that.
Me- Okay. *pulls out paper* Forest trees--
Mr. Reed- *interrupts* I'm sorry, Miss Francois. But, could you come up here, and recite your poem so that the whole class can hear you?
Me- *nods* Yes, sir. *Gets out of the chair and goes up to the front of the class*
Oh my God. This is the most nerve wrecking thing that I have ever experienced. Everyone is staring at me. "Forest trees. The trees move left to right, up and down, diagonals and vertical movements. The sunlight plays peek-a-boo between the leaves. The heat. The wind. The musty smell that you get when walking inside this forest. One animal mates with another. A deer with another. A bird in its nest. Nothing could destroy what they all have. The whistles that the wind and the bird makes creates a rhythm every 15 seconds. A lion and a woman sees each other from opposite sides of the area. The beauty and the beast rubs one's cheek. Could this be love? Could this be lust? All you see is the leaves flowing, and the branches moving. Though the roots aren't. The ground is steady. All is steady but the grass. What is still yet is in continuum. The sun goes down slowly and leaves die. The woman finally exits the forest with the lion. He hasn't made his move though he will soon. Fireflies travel around a pond. They gather in traditional ceremony. The beauty and the beast gradually drown themselves in the pond, and refused to see another light of day. The hand caresses the lion's den, forcing him to become one with the woman. His eyes feasted into hers. And their spirits mashed into each other; never realizing the sound of the music coming to an end. The wind slept. The heat ceased. But, the morphing of the beauty and the beast had just started."
Mr. Reed- *removes his glasses* Now, Miss Francois, that is the best that I have heard from you all year. When did you right this?
Me- About 15 minutes ago.
A student raises their hand.
Mr. Reed- Ah, yes, Cheryl. Do you have a question?
Cheryl- No. More so of a comment. Francois, I have noticed that you write a lot about romance, and animals. Are you so into anything that sexually stimulates the mind such as oh, I don't know, beastality?
