Oct 18
joseph.deffner's picture

Angry Teen Banshee


Angsty teen Banshee
Do realize how hard it is to be a banshee in the Twenty First Century? I mean, everybody thinks you’re a freak and there's that stupid myth about our cries killing people-not that anyone remembers-and that we cry when we are washing our clothes in a river? I mean that parts true, but only because our clothes are so second rate. It's really hard for a banshee to get a job, let alone walk into a store to buy a dress. Sor-ry! And also, the thing about our hair, really, didn’t your mother teach you it isn’t okay to openly judge someone? And shampoo and conditioner? Don’t even get me started on the price raise. Oh, and sorry that my complexion offends you. Sorry, I can’t afford foundation or any of that. Sorry I look dead. Because I am. On the inside. Oh, and the running away screaming? That's really rude you know. It really doesn’t do wonders to my self esteem. If I could just get a job. BUT, you people in the world are very against interesting and new people. I mean, PUL-leaze, not every girl has great skin and great hair and pretty clothes. Not my fault I have heinous hygiene, I wish I didn’t, but I can’t afford soap. Or clothes. As I’ve said before. Did I say I hate repeating myself? Because I do. Oh did I mention my name is Medow? Not like you care. God. Have some respect. I’m a living being too. I mean metaphorically, because I’m actually dead. But I already said that didn’t I? I’m ranting. Did you notice? Or do you just not care? I could be an actress. But people are like, OMG. Now my family is going to die. You know? From the myths? I went to a library once. I looked up banshees. You know how we were portrayed?
Sometimes the banshee assumes the form of some sweet singing (BOOM!) virgin of the family who died young, and has been given the mission by the invisible powers to become the harbinger of coming doom to her mortal kindred. Or she may be seen at night as a shrouded woman, crouched beneath the trees, lamenting with veiled face, or, flying past in the moonlight, crying bitterly. And the cry of this spirit is mournful beyond all other sounds on earth, and betokens certain death to some member of the family whenever it is heard in the silence of the night.
Well can’t help the highlighted part, you guys are giving me depression with all the running away screaming. Wish I could fly past the moonlight though. That would be really cool. I wonder why I’m telling you all this. Not like you care. Ugh. Nevermind. I’m done