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This diary entry is written by ItalyAnarchy. ( View all entries )

Liverpool's Lament - A Short StoryCategory: (general)
Thursday, 5 April 2012
05:33:57 AM (GMT)
I know I don't have the girls' pictures uploaded on DeviantArt yet, so I can't show
anyone what exactly they look like yet. But here are the names that go together:

Queens Park Rangers - Jamie
Newcastle - Maggie/Magpie
WBA - Throstle/Christina
Chelsea - Chelsea (duh?)
Liverpool - Olivia/Red
Wigan Athletic - Leta

Also, the inspiration for this: Liverpool FC's last few heartbreaking losses. Yes,
that's it. A sports team losing. :P


Liverpool's Lament
As told by Christina Hawthorne, West Bromwich Albion Football Club


The sound pierced through us like sharp glass. We all recognized that sound. Anyone
would. It was so familiar, but we hadn't heard it in so long.

Liverpool had just slapped someone.

I looked to my right and saw tears streaming down Ranger's face as she realized what
was going on. Poor child. We all knew she was practically in love with Liverpool, and
hearing her slap someone had driven the little girl over the edge.

"Oh, God." Newcastle's voice was barely above a whisper. She grabbed my hand and held
it tightly, and I could tell just from her voice how upset she was.

Newcastle was dressed in her black and white striped victory clothes. It was required
from every team who won that day. She'd beaten Liverpool. It was her who'd driven
Liverpool over the edge.

"If I could've been able to control my players, Throstle, I would have," she
whispered, and she too began to cry. Even I was choking back tears. Liverpool was
always so happy. What was happening to her? 

It was absolutely silent in the dorm except for the soft sound of crying.

"Magpie, c'mon," I said to her, my voice at a whisper as well. "Do you know who she
could've slapped?"

"It was Leta," came a weakened reply from my right. Ranger put her hands over her
face, sobbing into them.

Oh, God. Leta.

Newcastle and I stood in silence, the only sound being of Ranger's soft sobs. From
that, I finally heard it. Footsteps running in our direction. She ran right past us,
dressed in Wigan Athletic's victory clothes, a red mark on her face and one arm
covering her eyes. I knew she was crying from the way her breathing sounded as she
ran: staggered, choked.

Then there came the crying from the common room.

It was the strangest sound I've ever heard. I'd never heard anything like it before
in my life. It was the exact opposite of Liverpool's laugh; instead of being filled
with her beautiful and jubilant energy, it was cold and dying, filled with sorrow the
world would never understand. It was the sound of a club at it's lowest. 

Liverpool was crying--no, sobbing. She'd lost it.

God, why Olivia?

Normal clubs didn't react this way to losing. It was a way of life, a normal thing.
But Liverpool was supposed to be the best, not losing to teams like Newcastle or
Wigan Athletic.


Ranger knew it, too. She'd heard the crying too, and it shattered her. Just from
looking at her, I could practically see her heart break before my eyes. At this
point, it was obvious: Ranger was in love with Liverpool.

I'd never seen a club in victory clothes collapse like that before. Not before Ranger
did. Her knees fell out from under her, she pulled her scarf off and clutched it like
a security blanket, and her body assumed a fetal position. Sobs racked her body and
tears streamed down her cheeks. Her whole face was swollen and red from her crying.
All I could think was this: Oh, help me, God, Olivia broke Ranger. Olivia's dying.
Leta's crying. Olivia's crying. Ranger's dying. Help.


Liverpool's voice cut through the air like a knife, and Ranger's body reflected that.
Her entire body seemed to be closing in upon itself.

We didn't know what to do.

She'd lost her last three games. That wasn't a big deal, was it? Then I told myself,
if you had Olivia's pride, you'd be upset too. But would I be this upset?

Newcastle's hand tightened around mine, and I squeezed her hand in return.

Liverpool didn't cry. Liverpool was never sad. But she was crying. She wasn't happy.
She was beyond sad, she was heartbroken.

"Leta...I'm sorry...Maggie...I'm sorry...Jamie, I'm sorry..."

She addressed them by their human names.

"Does anyone ever call me Maggie anymore?" Newcastle sobbed. "I'm so sorry,

I pulled the sobbing victor into a tight hug, letting myself start crying as well.
We'd known Liverpool since the beginning, and she'd never once cried.


"Olivia..." Ranger's voice was strained, the sound of her first name causing her to
shrink even further into herself. She'd packed herself into a tight ball, her scarf
clutched tightly against her chest.

"Red. Red, please..."

That voice was Chelsea's, ever the voice of reason. Even her voice sounded
strained--Liverpool was there when she came into existence.

"Jamie will never forgive me, Chels..she'll hate me forever..."

"Why would she hate you?"

"Because I'm horrible...I was mean to her all this time...and, I slapped her

Even my heart broke when I heard that. Ranger could never be mad at her. Even I knew
that much.

Newcastle pulled gently on my arm. She'd taken a few steps forward, pulling me
towards the common room.

"Let's go get her, Throstle," she said sternly, her face still red from crying. I
couldn't help but follow her to the common room. My fingers interlaced with hers as I
nervously entered the common room, not wanting to see what Liverpool looked like when
she cried.

"Liv," I said, interrupting the silence that had once again fallen over the room.
"You need to go see Jamie. She needs you."

The silver-haired girl spun around, her tear-stained face somehow showing an
unimaginable amount of sorrow.

"Jamie?!" Her voice choked on the second syllable and she began to sob loudly, the
sound echoing throughout the dorm. Liverpool was suddenly on her feet, darting
towards the door from which we'd entered. She was smart, she'd known Ranger would've
been with us.

I ran back towards the place where we'd left Ranger, Newcastle in tow. The rest of
the common room was still frozen with shock.

Ranger had Liverpool in a tight embrace, letting the latter club sob into her shirt.

It was heartbreaking, seeing Liverpool like that. A club usually so filled with
passion and energy had become little more than a heartbroken child. She got mad a
lot, yes, but that was her personality. Liverpool never cried.

No one understood why she was so upset.

No one knew why three losses were so heartbroken. No--she'd lost all but one of her
last seven Premier League games. And that wasn't like her at all. She was definitely
falling apart. She was definitely broken inside.

The worst part was knowing that she might not get better.
Last edited: 5 April 2012

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