A Child Sat On The Floor, Staring Up At The Copy Of The Painting Of Lucifer. All Naked Flesh And Muscles.

A child sat on the floor, staring up at the copy of the painting of lucifer. All naked flesh and muscles. She started to pray, as she was taught.

“Have you heard of that song, Me and the devil.”

A timely pause for the instruments in her head.

And then again, “walking side by side? It's kinda fun. People use that song to symbolise that they're doomed. How do you feel knowing that you're the bringer of doom to the mediocre?”

Sister Prissca told the class that prayer was conversing with God. So, she always wondered if talking to others worked the same. It must be. She concluded in the end. You can talk alot with someone you really like, after all.

“I sang it in my head today, when I walked down here. Because I'm not allowed here. So everytime I come here, I'm making it more likely that I'll come here again, until I get caught y'know. I'm doomed like that. It's badass, for a kid. Sneaking into old, abandoned buildings. Maybe not for you. You probably tempted bigger people for worse things. Like the war. Do you think I'll grow up to be evil? I hope not. I'm too lazy. Maybe I can be your next mascot of sloth.”

The room smelled of fungus and lung cancer, with hints of dust, mould, and ink. She first used to wear a mask here, until she got too lazy to wear it too.

Masterlist:

Ruth. Just for once. She deserved so much better, but god that song was such a good and painful end for her.

Because as much as it is her playing a character, it's also so reflective of her, obviously. She's a nerd who's so desperate for contact with other people and so overlooked that she'll never have what she wants. But she's finally getting closer to that life. People are noticing her now that max is dead and are even talking to her! And yet! She's still doing lights for the play, still stuck outside the spotlight.

And so she sings as a middle aged wife who is trapped in life. Because while Ruth is so far from middle aged, it's so much easier to see how stagnant someone can feel when their life is that much longer, and still just as unfulfilled.

She sings of a new bay window that she didn't want, a view into a world of people actually talking to her, and yet still not fulfilling that desire for connection she has. And so she shops for shutters, tries to manage that view into something she can accept. And life is fine, if only it were hers, if only it were actually something she could hold and feel and control.

And then it cuts to just for once wanting to be the center of attention. The break from character, and yet still almost fitting. Because Ruth and the character both want more than the dullness they're stuck with. They're both so close to just breaking out and getting more.

And then she's back in character. Singing of careful chemo treatment, not being unhappy about the attention. Just as Ruth has gone through something awful witnessing the death of max, contributing, and winning in the end with the attention. And it fucking worked, she's fucking here. He's fucking her. She got that attention and it's still not enough. She's disappointed. There's carpet in the bathroom. Out of place and worn down, just like her.

The pools out, the neighbors kids come running. And her husband likes the neighbors kids more than theirs. The nighthawks have their freedom and suddenly all her friends are making friends with other people. And one of her closest friends had just died, and no one cares, people go missing every day in hatchetfield. But who else has ever spent as long with Ruth. Which of the kids actually speaking to her now would be willing to actually hang out with her and listen to her.

And so she wonders what she should do. Flip the burgers now? Check they're actually well done? Should she talk to her friends and reach out with everything going on? Should she let the coals burn out? Let the years wear down her body? Let the friendship die out, let her connections fail, let herself give up and give in?

And then. The lines about the tap shoes. forgotten dreams, brought up again by someone else picking them up. Passing her in life.

She used to dance. Used to. And now she never will again, because her life is over. Ruth will never reach middle aged, like she sings of. She will never know if her life couldve gotten better, what all the what-ifs could have been.

But she used to dance.

You guys better never shut up about Palestine. Even when they are liberated, your mouth better not close. Thousands upon thousands have died, and your words will never equal their lives, even if you spoke of them for thousands of years. You owe it to their memory, and to the people who live on, to never shut up.

https://www.wsj.com/world/middle-east/israel-postwar-gaza-plan-palestine-bf36d1c9

“Those poor boys”

“She deserves to be punished too.”

“I’m not saying I support rape, but-”

“Sorry to say - she deserved it.”

“She put herself in harm’s way”

“But if she was fingered, then that’s not rape.”

“She ruined their lives.”

didn't finish npmd but

all of this... will never leave my mjnd