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Sam Lovegood
Bio
Achievements (1)
Stories (4/0)
A Little Piece of Sunshine
I watched as you both walked towards me. You, I of course was quite familiar. Your smell, the way you always sang, and the impatient voice you had when frustration seeped in. But this new human, this girl that seemed to smile far too wide for my liking. Why was she bouncing towards me? I was quiet and thoughtful as we made our way to the beach. Once you left, the cold of the ocean became more apparent. My clock seemed to push onwards, but much too slow. And suddenly both of you were back, and seemingly grateful that I could shelter you from the elements. But no words of thanks were uttered that night. Or any other night. As the girl's presence became more frequent, my disdain for the lack of appreciation began to slowly melt. Until just a small puddle of sadness remained. A sadness that rooted in your lack of attention, your lack of love. I was once this bright yellow piece of sunshine. But she became your sunshine, and I became a mere glow.
By Sam Lovegood2 years ago in Poets
Truth Be Told: Part 1
What am I? The answer to the question is not as simple as my father seemed to think. “You are flesh and bones, my boy, just like every generation before you.” Even from a young age, I could see that whatever he had to say was as deep as a puddle. When it came to chopping wood and hunting the best game, he would always come out on top. But as I sat on my small hill, overlooking the distant land, I felt that I may have been onto something bigger. Who am I? Am I the voice swirling in my head, forming these ever-changing thoughts? Am I the coy listener inhabiting the same space? Or am I a moment of ecstasy when all my feelings and thoughts are dedicated to a single action? Just as my brain was hinging on an epiphany, one of the sheep, who is known to be exceptionally small and dumb, fell away from the pack. His fluffy white exterior bounced as he fell into a rhythmic trot, minding solely his own need for an abundance of green grass. This stupid creature had been the bain of my existence for quite some time. The sounds that he was able to emit from his snout were despicable, and he had even developed a fear of his own reflection. A neighbor noted that he may have once been a meddling boy that had angered the wrong magical being. I had waved the notion away with a chuckle, but it seemed like a likely explanation as the days went by. My hand brushed gently over the ground, warning the blades of grass that my feet would soon be upon them. As I stood, I stretched my long body towards the sky. Clouds moved overhead in a menacing taunt, warning of the storm to come.
By Sam Lovegood2 years ago in Fiction
My Momma's Love. Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge.
I was about six when he started beating her. For a couple of months, it was mostly drunken yells that seemed to reverberate all over the small house. Then loud bangs and momma's screams were added to the chorus of chaos. Late into the night, I would hold my breath, hoping that daddy had finally drank himself to sleep. When mornings would come, momma would be humming in the kitchen like last night's hell was merely a nightmare. Sometimes she would manage to cake on enough makeup to hide the dark purple bruises. Other times they would peak through the layers, revealing the truth of the matter.
By Sam Lovegood2 years ago in Fiction