Post by ELI DANIEL ACKERMAN on Apr 10, 2010 18:12:24 GMT -5
ELIJAH DANIEL ACKERMAN
SEVENTEEN , SENIOR , NICOLAS BEMBERG
[/font]SEVENTEEN , SENIOR , NICOLAS BEMBERG
THIS WON'T HURT
YOUR GUY SIDE[/center]
MORE THAN A PINCH
YOUR GIRL SIDE
YOUR GIRL SIDE
SO JUST POUR A DRINK
YOUR APPEARANCE
YOUR APPEARANCE
LET'S TALK IT OVER
YOUR EMBARRASSMENTS
YOUR EMBARRASSMENTS
I'M BACK AFTER
YOUR HEALTH
YOUR HEALTH
ALL THESE YEARS
YOUR TRAVELING
YOUR TRAVELING
DON'T BE AFRAID, MY DEAR
YOUR EXPERIENCES
YOUR EXPERIENCES
NOW I'M OLDER
YOUR RELATIONSHIPS
YOUR RELATIONSHIPS
CAUSE PEOPLE CHANGE
HONESTY AND CRIME
HONESTY AND CRIME
CAN'T YOU SEE MY EYES
DEATH AND SUICIDE
DEATH AND SUICIDE
ARE THEY NOT THE SAME
MATERIALISM
MATERIALISM
AFTER THE LIES
RANDOM
RANDOM
I KNOW I'M LIKE A MACHINE
THE PUPPETEER
THE PUPPETEER
[/b] years old. you can contact me through pm[/color] or through my other characters, no one![/color]. i've had five years under my belt, i know what i'm doing. oh one last thing, i just wanna say this app was a lot of fun :][/color], now i'll show you what i really got.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]
yo! the name's quinn and i happen to be seventeen
The faint yellow haze intruding through the window indicated morning. The crick in his neck indicated that something needed to be done. It was the fifth time since he had moved in with Dan that Eli had found himself sleeping on the floor of his neighbors' toolshed. The shed was nice enough: unlocked, clean of spiderwebs and mice, but as a matress, the concrete floor proved to be cold and uncomfortable. Eli made a mental note to bring a blanket the next time he decided to have a miniature escape from Dan. In all those fairytales, there was always an evil step-mother, but someone had failed to mention the long-lost evil step-father, whom Eli had unfortunately found. Dan... it made things worse that they shared a portion of their name. He was Daniel Adam Barkham, and Eli was Elijah Daniel Ackerman. But then, what was a middle name? Enough. The stubborn thoughts answered the stubborn questions while the pale blue eyes explored the now-and-sadly-familiar surroundings.
Mrs. Reeves, the neighbor woman, got up at six to tend to her garden, much like Eli often awoke, not at six, but early to walk Duncan the border collie. Mr. Reeves was always up soon after to put a cup of coffee cautiously on the arm of a lawnchair for his wife. Eli should have been ashamed to know such a piece of information, like he was spying on the neighbors, but he wasn't, not like he was ashamed to be secretly sleeping in their toolshed. Though it was before he had needed the use of the shed when he observed the elderly couple. Twice he had stopped himself from getting out his camera and snapping a still of their loving morning ritual, for it was a beautiful sight, despite the absence of youth and prescence of both wrinkles and bathrobes. More than once Eli had wondered if his parents would have been so happy had they stayed together through the decades. He stopped himself here, too.
The rays of sun were growing brighter, and six o'clock was approaching. Time to go home. Eli unfolded himself from the fetal position he had slept in, finding he was rather small in shame. He didn't like that. Nor did he like the way Dan feared the gentle border collie back at the house, and kept him caged up at night, or the way his stepfather used the prized 1950's Skyliner without asking permission, or how he called him 'Elijah' instead of simply Eli... The list went on and on. Nearing the top was the fact that he felt shame at all for needing the escape. Eli had come to realize that it was Dan's fault he had aquired a temper. Too many times that he had just been ignored and pushed aside for more (less) important things that he had finally snapped. Eli's mother had been working late last night, Dan was the only other human being in the house. This was trouble brewing. Eli had attempted to sit quietly and finish his math homework, but when Dan had filed the third consecutive complaint about the dog that evening, and suddenly all bets were off. Despite the stinging words that had been said, it was he, Eli, that was shamefully crawling out of the toolshed, trying not to wake anyone up.
Naturally, everyone was still asleep when he opened the kitchen door, the slight creak breaking the heavy silence of morning. Duncan resembled Eli in the dog's own state of unconsciousness: curled up in an uncomfortably small space, though perhaps the dog was used to sleeping in a helpless fetal position. It would have been nice to let him loose, but Eli couldn't fool anyone; he was never up quite this early. So reluctantly, he walked by the caged animal and to the open bed. The matress had bever been extremely comfortable, often times people found it to be too firm, but those people had never slept on the floor of a toolshed. Eli immediatly regretted leaving such a warm, welcoming bed the second he met it. Or did he? No, he didn't. Which was why, just before he found sleep, Eli reached the familiar conclusion: something needed to be done.
Mrs. Reeves, the neighbor woman, got up at six to tend to her garden, much like Eli often awoke, not at six, but early to walk Duncan the border collie. Mr. Reeves was always up soon after to put a cup of coffee cautiously on the arm of a lawnchair for his wife. Eli should have been ashamed to know such a piece of information, like he was spying on the neighbors, but he wasn't, not like he was ashamed to be secretly sleeping in their toolshed. Though it was before he had needed the use of the shed when he observed the elderly couple. Twice he had stopped himself from getting out his camera and snapping a still of their loving morning ritual, for it was a beautiful sight, despite the absence of youth and prescence of both wrinkles and bathrobes. More than once Eli had wondered if his parents would have been so happy had they stayed together through the decades. He stopped himself here, too.
The rays of sun were growing brighter, and six o'clock was approaching. Time to go home. Eli unfolded himself from the fetal position he had slept in, finding he was rather small in shame. He didn't like that. Nor did he like the way Dan feared the gentle border collie back at the house, and kept him caged up at night, or the way his stepfather used the prized 1950's Skyliner without asking permission, or how he called him 'Elijah' instead of simply Eli... The list went on and on. Nearing the top was the fact that he felt shame at all for needing the escape. Eli had come to realize that it was Dan's fault he had aquired a temper. Too many times that he had just been ignored and pushed aside for more (less) important things that he had finally snapped. Eli's mother had been working late last night, Dan was the only other human being in the house. This was trouble brewing. Eli had attempted to sit quietly and finish his math homework, but when Dan had filed the third consecutive complaint about the dog that evening, and suddenly all bets were off. Despite the stinging words that had been said, it was he, Eli, that was shamefully crawling out of the toolshed, trying not to wake anyone up.
Naturally, everyone was still asleep when he opened the kitchen door, the slight creak breaking the heavy silence of morning. Duncan resembled Eli in the dog's own state of unconsciousness: curled up in an uncomfortably small space, though perhaps the dog was used to sleeping in a helpless fetal position. It would have been nice to let him loose, but Eli couldn't fool anyone; he was never up quite this early. So reluctantly, he walked by the caged animal and to the open bed. The matress had bever been extremely comfortable, often times people found it to be too firm, but those people had never slept on the floor of a toolshed. Eli immediatly regretted leaving such a warm, welcoming bed the second he met it. Or did he? No, he didn't. Which was why, just before he found sleep, Eli reached the familiar conclusion: something needed to be done.
BUT I STILL HAVE DREAMS
THE CREDITS
hey, hey, hey, this app template was made by SASS ATTACK ?! aka AJ at CAUTION 2.0. and you all know she'll eat your face if you try and remove the credit. the lyrics are from one day robots will cry by cobra starship and the template was inspired by a facebook survey.
[/size]THE CREDITS
hey, hey, hey, this app template was made by SASS ATTACK ?! aka AJ at CAUTION 2.0. and you all know she'll eat your face if you try and remove the credit. the lyrics are from one day robots will cry by cobra starship and the template was inspired by a facebook survey.
[/center]
