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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist Member Wren CookeFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Thes are my favorites, so usually just ones that catch my eye in beuty, realism, or humour.
"Hot summer streets
And the pavements are burning, I sit around
Trying to smile
But the air is so heavy and dry
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Leaving me, leaving me here on my own.
It's a cruel, cruel summer.
Now you've gone, And I'm all alone..." 


My last words faded into silence, the soft, tear filled lyrics barely making a dent in the musty heat.
It had not helped. I had not wanted it to. Emotion, being alone and distraught, was all I ever wanted to be. His laughing blue eyes seemed so warm, and now they were cold. His mouth, always smiling comfortingly, letting me know I was not alone, was closed. And I had to keep his entire being, his body, his history, his soul and self, locked inside me. Forever. He would not die in me.
It had indeed been a cruel summer.

One, Him.

This past spring had been our anniversary. Third. We'd known each other longer, of course. Love such as ours, supportive and fun, the worst fight being me making fun of his quirks lightheartedly, doesnt happen in a flash. Not for someone like me. 
I remember it well, even if some of the best parts are blotted with tears. All the memories are, and Ive managed to read through them well enough.
We were at a club, at the time unaware of each other. I do not know the name, just that it had karaoke. I was with my {miniscule} group of friends, and we were arguing. I did not want to sing. I'm naturally distrusting, and any oppurtuntiy to expose myself makes me feel uncomfortable and I get hostile. But, this time...I said okay. Maybe I anted to prove I asnt a coward. So it was my turn. I strode up to the stage, brisk and cold, knowing they were watching, judging. Was I a slut? A dumb brunette? My black ankle boots and cargo shorts probably just confused everyone, as well as my long brown hair in a girlish bun, with my glare of challenging anger. They looked away. I almost smiled, then took a breath as the music started. I knew it wasnt exactly my theme song, but I had chosen Just Dance. Lady Gaga had always impressed me with her courage and pride in acting weird. 
I sang. My voice is low, clear. Im also good at Gaga. So I rocked it. I was actually having fun. Then I remembered. The rap. Di this audio track have the vocals for it? I cant rap. Hate trying. So Im stressing out...when...He jumps on stage, dancing like an idiot who knows he looks foolish and is loving the attention. I was shocked, luckily I didnt have to sing. When my cue approached, he skipped over to me, grinning, eyes bright blue and encouraging. "Thanks..." He whispered in my ear. I almost laughed. He thanked me?

I need to stop. I can tell you that he and I met properly after the songs, as we decied to keep singing together, until my voice gave out. Ma-MacKenzie. He told me to call him Kenzie. I...I told him he was gay, and he laughed. "No, just flaming!" I laughed, unsure of whether he was funny, or I was just being polite. He asked if we could meet there next week, and I just stared. 'Kenzie' just raised his eyebrow in a quizzical expression that broke my trance. I bust out laughing. "O...Okay." I finally got out, and he kept making aces at me as he backed away into the shadows, mock evil, vampy teeth,'whooo' noises....I rolled my eyes, but when I finally got home, safe from my prying friends questions, I couldnt stop smiling, and that whole week I spent rehearsing singing. 

I'm going to find out what did this to him. To me. Us. It was not a fall. He was not an idiot. Not my MacKenzie.

Two, Why?

I wont tell you. I cannot describe the death of the one I loved. Im not a horrible, calculating scientist, laying bare the facts. But if you think back, perhaps you were there, heard my pleas, saw the blood, heard my voice crack, saw the ploite young boy next door you tell your brothers or sons to emulate. Saw his twisted, broken figure, eyes frozen ice blue. You felt the ground fall away as I did, as I was jogging past his house, how I heard music from his small stereo, looked up to his roof, where the window was open. He did that. He loved to sit there all night, listening. Singing, too. See the boombox. The open window. The sun shining prettily on the guazy curtains. Smile at the simple beauty as you step forth again, when you get hit by it. The confusion, spreading to unease. Did he go back in, leaving the window open and his radio out? You look down, ready to think, be worried when your Ipod finishes its cheery song that makes you skip, only to stare. You dont recognize it. It. 
How? Is that the first hing you think? Rational, almost. Or maybe its, 'Oh, I was right. My boyfriend, my MacKenzie did fall and break his neck. Look, there is even blood in his mouth!' Maybe I did think that. Or maybe the vortex, the wind tunnel became a black hole and swallowed those thoughts, obliterating all conscious thought until I became an animal, screaming, unaware of anything, grabbing his limp, lolling body, hauling him up, running with him. My muscular frame holding his lanky one like an asleep child in his mothers arms. I was his mother, I was his safety net. But I had caught him too late. "Mac, Kenzie! Wake up! MacKenzie, MacKenzie, MacKenzie....!" I shreik, still running at a jagged lope stagger, my eyes are wild and deranged. Tears fall like hail stones. I have to keep running. I still have a purpose. Ill figure out where when can once again think. Finally. My strength gives out, and its my turn to fall, onto his stomach, and only then. His chest. Once so warm, strong and supportive. Comforting. It is cold. Stiff. Stiff and hard where I used to punch it to make fun of his slight paunch. I freeze, staring at the grey sidewalk, still on his torso. If I stay there, I, he, will be safe. No. No..Nonononono"NONONO!!!!! MacKENZIE!!!" I finally know. This isnt a dream, is no booboo I can kiss. I try, though. I hold his face, kissing him and rubbing warmth into him, warmth that dissipates swiftly, giving up like it knows better than me how gone he is. Gone. "MacKenzie? Are you, why wont you?" All I can think is he wont ever rap to save my social life, never again. My questions are unanswered, but his eyes tell me all. Ice blue, I never used to think could be warm. He proved me wrong that May, but now hes just like any other iceberg, telling me I was wrong. It was all a dream. He isnt a person. He is a corpse. 

Ive been heard. people are hanging back, but calling 911, and one old lady does approach, but I cant see her. All I see is his face, his unseeing look of mild surprise. Like it was just a small shock, a prank. Haha, look, you got me good, huh? Aprils fools, right?

I'm home now. They away. To the hospital, I suppose. Or maybe the mortuary. I don't care. I'm sitting in my bedroom, everything still, silent. I open my hand and a single, rational tear falls into my palm, wetting the red sparkly Ipod he gave me. Its not jewelry, but he always knew I didn't need that. It was music hat I longed for, but didn't have money for.
It had all my favorites... performed by him. He also had put the originals, asking me to compare him to artists like Queen, The Ramones...and more recent too, like Gaga. I always laughed when he asked, saying that I was biased. He told me that was why he'd asked me.
My head drops, the sudden movement jerks me into reality. He would not have sat around, bawling like a calf. I stand, and my light brown hair gets pulled back ino a tight tail. My grey eyes, once called rabbit wool soft, seem to me a steely-no, a stony resolve. I dress, my eyes are wide and my mouth is set in a firm line. I will not  mourn. I will save him. My MacKenzie, first, and only real friend. And I wont lethim just cease. As a final grab, I clip my long combat knife onto my belt. I..I think I got it last year. But I need to focus. Why? There had to be a reason for killing him. Thats right. It was not an accidental death. No way in hell.

3, The Fight.
I don't. The door is slammed open, probably because my parents heard the music on the stereo downstairs, blasting it's way into their ears. I forgot sound until it disappears, then manifests as the slamming door. I jerk to feet, completely at a loss for what to do. Father and Mum parrot my blank face of surprise. I suppose I look a mess-not that it matters. Who is there to please with my appearance?
They have no words for me. I knew this. Tucking my long hair behind my ears, I walk out, knowing that they cannot help me in this. The knife is hidden, in my cargo pants. My t-shirt was not the best choice. It's bagginess lets the wind chill my skin as I walk, but I let it. I have a purpose. That's what I need. I need something else, but even I know I can't have it. And so I go, the playlist he created echoing in my frozen ears, refusing to open, my tear ducts dry. I am empty.

It ended.
I tried. I walked and walked, deaf and dumb, blind to all but what lay in my way. This...Im dead, now. A sudden embace, warm, strong...but weak. Simon. I recognize him, too delayed to escape the hug, a tight engulgment to comfort him as much as me. I can feel his muscles spazzing as he cries. Guys do cry. I know this. Simon was MacKenzies old, best friend.  "...Si...." My husk of a voice stops him, and he releases me, the grief and anguish written, no, painted on his face. "Please," He says softly. "Come home." He knows me. Now that I look around...I can see how far he must have come to find me. "Simon....Hes really..." My whisper cracks, and the warmth of Simon's friendship and concern thaws my frozen tears. They shimmer as the slide down my cheeks, and in my eyes, giving the world a wobbly, unsturdy look. "You cant see him, Simon. You wont ever laugh at him, Simon. " My voice raises an octave. "He wont evr sing with us again, Simon! Never!" His eyes are shining againe, and he doesnt speak, just looks past me, towards...home. He starts walking. "I know. But what are we going to do?" I follow, and cling to his arm like a little girl. I suppose I am. The knife clatters to the ground, and he retrievs it with a sad smile. "Should I ask?" 
I shake my head, embarrassed. I look at him, and realize why Kenzie had stuck with him so long. I am sad, and if I died...It would be an improvement. But now,  I am feeling. "Simon....He would want us to live. Sing." Im firm, ad now, I walk strong. "I know that." He chides gently. "And I cant sing. Not without him. " I shake my head. "It wont get better. They say it does, but it cant. Not something like this."
Simon and I nod. But, in the end, we go home.
We were right. It didnt get better. I had to go to summer school, and Simon had to go with his amily on a holiday. So we had no one to comfort, or be comforted by. And I retreated. At school, where my old friends had to go as well,  did not speak, or express any emotion. And so it went. But, as all shock of MacKenzies fall dissipated, people began to gossip. The said he was suicudal. A creep. Because he was nice to everyone. I tried to ignore it, but I always had trouble brushing stuff off. He was the best. If he didnt know you, he didnt give a rats ass what you thought of him. And if you knew him, then you liked him, and didn't mouth off about him. 
And I endured, too lethargic to punch anyone, but the pressure was building up. I wasn't empty-I was full. 
Crammed, stuffed inside my shell.
Until I couldn't hold it in any longer.

It was a nice evening, walking home from school, when I realized it. MacKenzie would never see anything beautiful again. He was lost. I was lost. He was always the one to guide me, so, now that I am alone, to whom do I turn? As I think, nothing distracting me, walking, the thoughts are rising, gaining mass, until I realize I just an't take this. 

One last dance. One last Song. One last breath.
The radio is still there. His parents are asleep. The roof is warm, still, from the sun. The way up is easy-I sat up there with him for years. 
The radio spits out static, then the song comes on. It was the last track on his CD, and it's ending. I start it over. A replay. Repeat....But I am no copycat. I am a lover. This is a tribute. A farewell. The cruel summer is over, and as I fly across the shingles, graceful and eerie, the words coming out of my mouth like a tsunami of emotion, I feel free-soon, I won't worry. Won't cry, won't miss that I've lost. And then I fall.

Crack. Pain. Red...I close my eyes, satisfied, but slowly blink open again. I need one last look at this world. The pain, so quick and sharp, is already gone. Everything is muted, and I watch the night sky with a smile on my lips. Its over. I slowly close my eyes, remembering those beight stars, the ebony sky....And I feel one last breath of air on my cheek. Or is that a hand?


{I hope you like this...there may or may not be a continuation.}


Wren Cooke
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
United States
I am a Home schooled Teenager. I plan to home school through college and be a farmer/artist.

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thanks for +fav   :)
Merry Christmas !
helenadoodle Dec 2, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
WrenoftheCookes Dec 2, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
incredible. xD not to hard, huh?
helenadoodle Dec 2, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Well I did not know your user. I am sitting in the hallway of my school and it is cold and my friend just fell on me because we are having a poke war and I told her that if she stepped on my folder I'll hit you with a faucet. 

WrenoftheCookes Dec 3, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
lovely. xD sounds like you, Hell-chan.
(1 Reply)
Wrath-MarionPhauna Oct 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
iamrandomosity Jul 21, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Charlotte-Poison-Ivy Apr 5, 2012  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the fave! :)
amazing magical art! love the werewolf and the chimera!
MajikPandaPowers Dec 30, 2011  Student Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave! :3
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