Artist Sylwia Sosińska
The Field of Difference.
Missy Talk ALot’s Diary Entry.
I’m stuck in this rubbish pit. I sit among the broken pieces of others, dumped and forgotten. How can they not wish for a way out of this mess? I was once a someone walking the world, not seeing the mess and destruction of change just focused on my life, on where I wanted to be. When the half-breeds or one whose face is edged in my memory changed me forever and then dropped me in a land I know I don’t belong.
Tonight it will be a week since I arrived and already a robot has me calling him ‘cutie pie’ he’s like me as mad as they come and I’ve heard that the many different creatures are planning to drag him to the soil, into no return, do I want to save him so I have someone to yell at when the nights get cold? ‘Cutie pie’ might be worth saving and yet my little hands and feet won’t be running to his rescue. Instead I plan my escape.
I can feel the wind blowing my dress as my ‘cutie pie’ takes his stroll near the green soil. I watch as little heads poke out and teeth glitter in the moonlight as they sing a song so deadly. I hold my worn pencil to my ears. And then ‘cutie pie’ is gone his interface the only thing floating like a severed head after a long battle. The night is calm again and it’s safe to lower my hands. I know some-time soon it will be me joining them, will I be the one pulling the others over the edge? Or like ‘cutie pie’ drowning in my own weakness? I’m not sure, but I won’t go down without a fight.
The moon is full now and that can only mean one thing over here there will be a new arrival, who I don’t know, but I will be the first to greet whoever he or she is, and maybe dairy (friend ) I will find my place in this twisted land.
I can hear the rustle of trees and the thud of something being dumped not too far away. I’m waiting for the hooting to stop, the flutter of wings to leave this waste land. I must leave you now while I have the chance and greet the next destroyed soul.
I’ll write again with my findings if I should be lucky enough to make it through this night and the next. If not in the future someone will find you here behind this tree and know that Missy Talk Alot- once lived if only in this dump like so many before me. All of us victims of dark magic gone wrong.
Signed Missy Talk ALot.
This is a page from the diary of Miss Talk Alot… I thought it would be great to add it here. I hope you all have a lovely weekend. And I would like to thank-you all for reading my blog and all your nice comments. And everyone who encouraged and inspired me to write. Also thank-you to the artists who drew my characters, it all have meant a lot to me. 🙂