A young poet is revealed the truth about her family. The mother who died to have her, as the creepypasta's take care of the daughter, who is threatened.
Books, may I say, are the best form of art, a poetic acception. They can easily feed the simple mind with hints of imagination, glimpses of knowledge. Now, for the intelligent mind, they are merely a hobby.
Filomena Divine, a girl of the age 12, was one of an extremely intelligent mind. Just as her mind, her features were one of a kind, one of great beauty. Dark brown hair reached the end of her gentle neck, also carressing her rosy cheeks. Those cheeks, as I shall add, differed from the rest of her snow white body. Her petite, both thin and short, body held strength abnormal to the usual person. She had sweet doe eyes that sparked of a rare emerald green. Tiny pink lips touched under a sweet button nose. Sharp, medium thickened, eyebrows layed right above her eyes, which naturally had long, curly eyelashes.
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Once again I shall say, this young girl was impeccable. Her brain was far larger than everyone that she came across, metaphorically speaking, of course. They say that her brain was as rare as a black opal, which is noted to be one of the rarest gems in the world. No one exactly spoke of her, of course, but those are the kind words of her family, the memorable words of... her great grandmother.
Anyways! Back to books! Books, oh, books. Those verses of literature that you recite at weddings, funerals, parties, celebrations, friends and family, and all those happy days of the year. Filomena, dear Filomena, always desired poetry, especially thrillers. Oh, she adored horror stories, crime scenes, and all the things any one in her area would. It happened so often that no one could help but be interested. Her father worries, oh does he worry, that his daughter is to grow ill in mind. Damn, is he wrong. She'd rather have a screwed up mind than a mind like her father's. He was a failure in his life, a shit hole. Started drinking when he was young, almost died a good amount of times because of it.
But that's the thing with people these days, they fuck up. Those stupid ass children don't listen to the people, who they're well aware knows far more than them, and end up doing the stupidest things. Here's the screwed up thing about the world... The wise are doubtful as the stupid are brace. In those movies about high schoolers, who are the brave ones? The stupidest goddamn people always have the most courage, as the intelligent are doubtful of their own strengths. This is why when you're in between, life is a fucking fiesta. Poor Filomena, she was doubtful. She doubted everything that she saw.
"Science," she'd say while looking at herself in a dirty mirror, "It's all science."
Keep telling yourself that, darling, for you have no clue what this world is really like. Actually, did anyone even ask? Did they ask if you were okay? NO! They left you alone, and look what happened. You were raped by some random woman you met in an alleyway. She didn't help you, she just worsened your brain.
Books, they can tell you how screwed up this world is without you even realizing it. That's a lot like sarcasm, the ability to insult someone without them even realizing it. That's it, Filomena was really sarcastic. She always has been. She'd come out as a little angel, meanwhile she's cussing you out, straight to your stupid face. Not too long ago, as I write this down, I was insulting you. Society. Those whole fucking bunch. I bet barely anyone even realized it.
This world, this society that we cried, is so dense. We're like the Himalayn air, thin. Thin minded, small, if not, empty minded. We do screwed up things and only realizing it later on in life, or if you're like Filomena, you don't give a shit. Make a bunch of friends, get deep inside of their souls, and then leave without a word. That shit can screw someone up, she did it. She looked at her screen, smiled, and laughed.
"How stupid," she laughed, "They thought I cared about them. No, wrong, zero."
