Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.

On the whole, I like scars. I like the idea of them, what they represent and the memories they invoke. I know that I don’t really have that many, or any that are disfiguring or that make life difficult, but I like them. I know people who hate the tiniest scar, that hate to have any imperfections on their bodies but I rather like the idea of having something on me, that becomes a part of me and that shows that I've lived, that I've had experiences whether they be good, bad or otherwise.  For me, scars are kind of like tattoos in the way that that I become proud of them, because they’re now me. They show the story of my life, what I've been through and what I love. It’s like having a story book of your life on your skin. I would never give up one of my scars, because they help e to remember experiences, people and what life was like when this or that happened.

I’ve got a backwards ‘c’ scar on the tip of my index finger. This is a present from my cousin Sam on Christmas morning when we were about twelve or thirteen. Her family had stayed at our house on Xmas eve and in the morning when we’d gotten up, we were the first ones down to the presents. Sam had gotten these Winnie the Pooh plushies that she wanted and they were all stuck down with those plastic tag things and she wanted to open it up right then and there. So we grabbed some scissors and proceeded to open it up. Sam held the scissors while I held the plastic thing so she could get them out. Now, Sam is really as blind as a bat without her glasses on, and in our haste to get to the presents, she hadn’t put them on. Instead of cutting the plastic, she cut my finger instead.

Everyone had a lovely xmas morning because of it, and it’s something I’ll never forget.

I’ve got a scar on my knee from when I was younger. We had a banana lounge out the back and I ran and jumped on it, landing on the metal bit that makes it bend. A couple of stitches later, I’ve got a cute little crescent moon-shaped scar.

I know I'm rambling, but all’s I want to say is...I like them. I would not object to having more of them. I’m clumsy so I know I will by the time I'm an old lady, and hopefully I like them just as much then and I do now.

Blood & Ink - Wise Man's Fear

"...Teccam explains there are two types of secrets. There are secrets of the mouth and secrets of the heart.

Most secrets are secrets of the mouth. Gossip shared and small scandals whispered. There secrets long to be let loose upon the world. A secret of the mouth is like a stone in your boot. At first you're barely aware of it. Then it grows irritating, then intolerable. Secrets of the mouth grow larger the longer you keep them, swelling until they press against your lips. They fight to be let free.

Secrets of the heart are different. They are private and painful, and we want nothing more than to hide them from the world. They do not swell and press against the mouth. They live in the heart, and the longer they are kept, the heavier they become.

Teccam claims it is better to have a mouthful of poison than a secret of the heart. Any fool will spit out poison, he says, but we hoard these painful treasures. We swallow hard against them every day, forcing them deep inside us. They they sit, growing heavier, festering. Given enough time, they cannot help but crush the heart that holds them..."

Untitled.

The nights were longer and darker up here, the wilderness more free and overgrown. But none of this mattered to the young girl. She actually preferred it this was because everything gave her more cover. Both she and her 'special friend' had been moved, this new institution more secluded and private. The land sloped downwards from the main house, the only source of light on the property. The girl watched her carers, moving slowly towards the small hole in one of the many doors in which she used to get out every night. No one had noticed, none of them moving as she suddenly rushed out of the door and into the frosty night. But her carers was used to this and they gave her a head start. This was a nightly ritual, something they all thought she would be over by now, but she was determined never to give up until she had him.

The soles of her bare feet padded along the cold, narrow footpath. The long and overgrown toenails clicking slightly with each step. She moved as silently as she could, stopping every now and then to look back at the main house, peering through the windows to see her carers still sitting and watching the big black box that made noise. Her small, yet oddly muscular body stayed close to the ground, her stomach almost touching the footpath. Crouching in the shadows of the line of trees, she tried to control the beating of her pumping heart. The warm breath distorted her view as she again set off, coming up to an abandoned building.

There were many of these buildings on the property but most were so ancient and decrepit that they began to crumble and break as soon as you stepped foot in it. Most of the buildings were like that, but one. And that was the girl's destination. That is where she went every night, where she was found every night.

Holes and ditches which could be seen clearly by day became deathtraps by night. So she ran hastily, with a sense of caution but never really knowing if she was going to suddenly fall. The black shadow loomed up to the front of the minuscule building which looked more like a chicken pen than anything else. The young girl's body shivered with the cold air and excitement of what was to come. Here eyes gleaming like two floating orbs in the darkness. Yet again she had made it, to the building, or more importantly, what was inside.

Looking consciously over her shoulder, the girl made sure her carers were nowhere in sight before turning around towards her target.. Her heart was racing, fluttering around in her chest like a trapped butterfly. Moving with great speed she rushed towards the vulnerable side of the building where he was waiting for her, watching out of the corner of his eye. Both parties froze as if time had stopped and simply stared at each other. They knew this 'game' well, the girl tired to play it every day, every time she got loose.

The strange building was like a holding cell on show, with three of the four walls made of old, rotting timber that looked as id a slight wind would knock the planks from their resting place. The last, forth wall was open to the public. Made of some sort of wire which seemed tough to manoeuvre was soft and bendy; good thing for her, bad for him. The boy never tried to escape though. It was his home and he liked not having to be near the crazed girl every hour of the day. He knew she couldn't get to him and he always taunted her with the fact. Moving slowly around his little house he watched smugly as the girls tried to think of a way in. She was failing dismally.

But she couldn't accept that, wouldn't accept that. She wanted to get in there, needed t get in there with him. her emotions ran rampant as she began working herself up into a frenzy; becoming more and more agitated that no matter what she tried, the wire did not give. There was nothing around to help so bare hands and teeth were used with vigour.

A low rumbling sound emanated from deep within her throat as she puffed and panted. All he did was sit there smugly, enjoying the show. The girl's dilated eyes concentrated themselves solely on his tiny form crouched in the corner. Nothing else mattered now but getting into his cage. Everything else was drowned out. No longer could she feel the cold gusts of winter air blowing against her white, speckled coat. No longer could she hear anything; like a door at the main building sliding open, voices shouting to one another and the trudging footsteps on the decking. All of her energy and attention was directed to the one boy right in front of her and the challenge of getting to him, getting at him and finishing it once and for all.

A light, bright and illuminating shone from a distance. It spotted her with one flick of a button. Not like it was hard to guess where she was. The girl had become hysterical and she didn't even realise. She was screaming at the top of her lungs as she stretched and clawed her way at the wire. A small hole was beginning to form, a small bud. This made her even more frantic than before, revving her up as the light came closer to her. She could feel the light burning her skin as it got stronger, her carers closing in. She didn't know which one it would be, but she was in trouble no matter what. Promising not to get at him ever again had been a bad idea. The voice yelling at her sounded fuzzy and distant, as did the rushed footsteps, but even she knew at a time like this, it would only be a matter of seconds before the cold, harsh hands would grip around her shivering torso and drag her back inside.

The girl was screaming and squealing like a piglet as the tiny hole got bigger and bigger in front of her glowing eyes.

 She tried to squish her face through the ever growing holes, trying to push herself through. The boy began to pay more attention now. He saw the carer coming, but he also saw that the young girl was dangerously close to breaking through. His heart began to pick up the pace, making him slightly nervous.

Finally, after many tries, her head fit through the hole she had made, the rest of her was scrambling to push through. But it was too late. She was suddenly pulled back, her head moving out of the hole and her whole body being lifted off the ground, pushing and kicking and howling. She'd been caught.

                                     _____________________

"Millie, what do you think you're doing?!" Carol said to the dog as she picked her squirming body off the ground.
"Leave the damn rabbit alone already" she continued as Millie tried to get free of her owner's firm grip.
"Don't even think about it Mill" Carol warned as they began to move back towards the house, Millie watching the cage and more importantly the rabbit over Carol's shoulder.
"You're a nut Mill" she mumbled to the dog as she walked through the door, sliding it closed behind the both of them.

                                    ______________________

The young girl stood at the door, peaking out behind the curtains, staring out into the darkness.
'You're mine'




This was something silly I wrote for an English sac in year 12.