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  • Writer's picturebucky

"Loot, Weave, Register" (2023)

๐š•๐š˜๐š˜๐š, ๐š ๐šŽ๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ, ๐š›๐šŽ๐š๐š’๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›;

Nate had loved her since the day he'd met her.

Alexia was pretty in a way that not everybody seemed to understand. Whilst the jocks and cheerleaders wouldn't give her a second pass, to Nate, she was the most wondrous girl he'd ever laid eyes on... But it wasn't just ๐™ฉ๐™๐™–๐™ฉ.

Alexia was clever, her mind working a mile a minute, often to the detriment of her mental health. She was vibrant, the kind of brightness that not only lit up a room but eclipsed it entirely. She was unique, in her gaudy Care Bear earrings and mismatched socks, but above all else, far beyond any trait or quirk, she was ๐™ ๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™™.

Day after day, Nate would weave through the heaving hallways in search of Alexia. Pushing past bustling students looting their lockers for dog-eared books, he'd search and search, until a flash of dark hair and a crooked smile announced her arrival.

Approaching though, Nate would never get closer than a foot before Alexia would start to leave. Despite his calling out to her, his outstretched fingertips reaching for the sleeve of her denim jacket, Alexia would simply move on, seemingly unable to register his desperation. The gifts he'd leave at her locker would go unnoticed, the love letters unanswered, and when she failed to respond to his romantic prom invitation, Nate reached out the only way he knew how... By possessing the rapidly decaying corpse of her late best friend.

Nate was dead, after all. And communion between the living and the damned was explicitly ๐™›๐™ค๐™ง๐™—๐™ž๐™™๐™™๐™š๐™ฃ.

Originally written and shared as part of Verbuary 2023:

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