Cold is the Night - The Child

Night is falling. Beware travelers, beware foolish children. Do not go into the night. Learn from your elders and follow their example. The Night longs to take you. The Night does not love you. 

One step towards the door. 

Blue eyes glance back over a small shoulder.

The father sits at his post, hands loose on the shotgun, but his head tilts forward. His chest rises and falls slowly. Quiet from the bedroom. 

Small hands reach up pull on the forbidden handle. 

Something buffets against.

A welcome in.

The door slams open. 

“No!” 

A rising scream. 

The future is taken.

Cold is the Night

The day dawns warm and friendly. The world stirs, swings its’ feet out of bed and yawns. 

The clatter of early risers begins, forcing those whose eyes are still prisoner to the chains of sleep to grumble and rise. 

Cheery cries of “Good morning!” and “Fare day!” swell to a cacophony of life. 

But night returns. 

And how cold is the night, filled with wailing. 

Oh, husbands, guard your doors and, therefore, your homes. Wives, guard your children and keep them close, for they are the future. 

The future that the night longs to rip away, screaming, from every doorway.   

Fear

Stop. 

Inhale and exhale, shallow and uneven. 

Eyes flick about, every shadow catching. 

Sweat beads from every pore. Fear. 

Heart pumping crazily, adrenaline surging through but paralyzing. 

Fingers clutch at the textured bed sheets, suddenly every thread is perfectly clear to the touch. 

Things creak where they shouldn’t. A board shifts and pops under weight that is wrong.  

Rustle across the room and a shadow shifts. 

“I’m alone. I’m alone.” Repeated whisper. “It’s just the house. It’s just it settling, just the heat.” Words to calm the nerves. 

A noise of friction across a floor. 

Breath catches.

I’m not alone. 

Preparations

White and ivory, cream and off-white.

So. Many. Options. (How do you decide?!)

Ruffles, bustles, empire waists, a-line, mermaid. 

The “squeeing” of women and girls.

The ringing of bells, cheers and applause. 

Taffeta, chiffon, and tuille. 

In and out of the dressing rooms. 

Lacing her up, zipping her,  ensuring she doesn’t step on the smooth silk.

“Nope. That one makes your butt look huge.” 

“This is lovely! I love the way it gathers!” 

“This is it. This is the gown.” 

Three wishes and the ringing of bells. 

This is it. 

We’re here for my Meaghan. 

She’s getting married!! 

Jagged Edges

Jagged edges reach and claw, splinters of a glorious past. 

What once was is surely no more. 

Just rubble is what we stand in. 

Nothing but charred, shattered, terrible rubble. 

It’s all still so fresh. The screams still echo, haunting. The tremors of the hooves and the clatter of the wheels still bounce around, not off of stone, but off the insides of our heads. 

Us, we are so few now. Now that the destruction has left us barren. 

Oh what a glorious breath of time we had, but it was fleeting. 

The signs were there. 

Alas. 

We were blinded.

Life and Time (For Day Two)

Hurtling forward. 

Running to the point where your feet pump wildly to just keep up with the forward momentum of your body. If you miss a step, you’ll go crashing down. 

Down and down and then what? 

Pick yourself back up, start to walk, then jog, then before you know it you’re hurtling again. That same out of control motion of running. Legs churning, lungs burning from exertion. 

Everything is out of control.

It is a vicious cycle and all I want to do is get away. All I want to do is slow down. 

How do you slow life?

Midnight Train (For Day One)

I hear the midnight train,

And wish that I was on it.

The pounding of its passing pushes its way through the miles separating. A distant warning horn wails.

I wish I was on it. My bags at my feet, my head rests against the glass, the vibrations make my eyes play tricks on my brain. My hand curls under my chin as the lights rush past, just a blur of golden yellow. 

My body moves with the trains swaying speed.

My destination, just somewhere that's not here. 

I hear the midnight train.

I wish that I were on it.

(Yes, I know I'm late to the party. Better late than never? I lost track of time this month)

Decontor

I have my gun trained on him. 

But I hesitate. I look into his brown eyes. 

Why does it have to be this moment? 

Why am I the one holding the gun?

Why did he betray me? 

Why did he betray the cause? 

How did he come to this point?

Where he kneels in front of me. 

The gun jammed into my trembling hands. 

The words. “Shoot him.” 

Repeated over and over. 

In my head. 

Off their tongues. 

The noise grows, but no one else volunteers to rip the soul from his body.

Instead he just stares at me. 

Waiting. 

Solus (for 5.30.2013)

“Have you ever stopped to realize just how alone you are?”

Shut up. Just stop it already. 

“Have you? Really?”

Yes. 

“I don’t think you have. Look around this room. All these people. They bare their teeth at you. But do you know what?” 

Be quiet, already! I’ve had enough! Shut up! 

Those aren’t smiles. They’re snarls. They hate you. Not a one of them considers you a friend. Not even one.”

Shut up! 

Please. Just stop. I beg of you. 

“Do you really think any of them love you? It’s all just fake.” 

.... I am alone. Utterly, entirely - alone 

Hypothermia (for 5.29.2013)

The water had been so long ago.

The submersion seemed like it had happened days and days ago. 

Now all I knew was the intense, painful cold. 

My body had ceased it’s shivering, and I couldn’t move to look around.

Everything just hurt. 

My lungs.

My hands.

My chest.

My legs.

Every part of me. 

I closed my eyes, but every time I did, something hit me. I faintly heard someone shouting my name. 

But I didn’t care. I just wanted to walk over to the fire and lay down in it. 

The fire couldn’t hurt worse than this hell. 

Alarm (for 5.28.2013)

They ignore me.

They persistently ignore me.

They hate me.

Consistently thrown into the corner. 

It’s not my fault. I’m made the way I am.

Sure, my voice is annoying. 

But without me, you wouldn’t remember anything.

Sure I interrupt you when you are in your happiest moment. 

When you’re sleeping.

I’m sorry, alright?

They hate me. 

They throw my body across the room.

They slap me about til I’m quiet. 

Til not a sound comes out of me.

Yet day in and day out I’m here.

 Waiting for my time. 

Waiting to speak in that annoying voice you hate. 

Memento

I heard the birds chirping. 

I heard the heavy popping of the machine guns. 

I heard the screams of my comrades.

I heard the cries of the enemy. 

I remember the blue skies. 

I remember the sight of empty cases flying. 

I remember the fear in their faces.

I remember the anger in their eyes. 

I felt the warm breeze on my skin.

I felt the weight of the souls I took with me.

I felt the bodies hit mine as they fell under the strafing. 

I felt their bullets tear through me. 

Please don't forget.

Remember those that fell. 

Elusus

Red smoke rises in the East.

Black smoke billows from the West. 

And here are we. Stuck in the middle. In the middle of north, and the middle of south. 

Where the winds meet, smash together. Rebounding away. Away. Away. 

The winds carry the ash.

They carry the stench of death.

Of blood. 

And here are we. 

We are the cause.

We are the cure.

We are the destruction.

We are the rebuilding.

But we do nothing.

Our words echo around us as we sit in a cement room.

Shaking from all we have done.

“The world is ended..” 

Ended. 

Somewhere in the Grey

Right down that road. Can you see it? 

It’s beyond that turn. Down that hill.

Off in the distance it awaits.

Tell me if you see it, would you please?

I’m trying to avoid it. 

But it still sits there, ominous and growing. Breathing. 

For you see, I can’t live forever. And my death is fast approaching. 

Somewhere in the grey area. Beyond where I can see. 

It’s haunting, forcing me to run away. 

Where can I run that death can not find me? Where it can not reach out it’s pasty fingers and grab hold? 

Perhaps behind the grey? 

Ulciscere

And so it has come to this moment.

He stands with his back towards the surf. 

Stumbling as the waves buffet him. But he keeps his footing, for now.

I stand on the shore.

He can’t stay there forever.

All his years of running have finally brought him here. 

Trapped between the jaws of the hungry ocean, and the surety of my blade between his ribs.

I see the exhaustion in his gaunt face.

I watch as blood from his wounds seep into the ocean, carried away by the tide.

Is that salt spray or tears running down his face?

Cogito

I am the telltale heart.

I am the monster under your floorboards.

I am that ghost you hear crying.

I am that child you ignored.

I am that man in the night-the one that takes control.

I am that face in the painting.

I am that villain seeing green.

I am that death that served your loved one. 

I am the authors conscience.

I am what drives their minds. 

I am what makes them lose their sanity. 

Without me, the famous ones wouldn’t not have existed. 

Without me, there would be no literary genius.

I am the hidden puppeteer. 

Tempestatem

They meet in the sky. 

The wearers of red and the wearers of blue.

Their ships line, gather their strength. The lines swell and press forward, eager for battle.

There is the sudden start.

The ships crash in a great, rolling, thunderous cacophony.

Their swords clash together, arcs of blue sent plunging all around.

The crashing is all around.

Then.

It mellows.

The battle is nearly over.

A few still crash together. 

Ominous.  

Deadly.

One side will win and rule the skies. 

For a time.

’Til the forces are rallied again.

And thunder and lightning shall again rip the skies.

Rebekah

So there is this girl. I love her dearly. 

I haven’t talked to her in a long, long time. 

Sometimes it feels like months and months. 

In reality it’s only been about a week. 

I have tried the conventional methods of communication. Nothing to invasive incase she is on a spy mission. 

But I have heard no reply. I have seen her writings, but nothing in communication. 

If you see a wavy head of dark hair, and a face that lights when she smiles, tell her she’s missed.

And that I hope her phone didn’t get dropped in a toilet. 

Relax

She tilted her head back, feeling her long hair brushing against her arms as the gentle breeze moved softly. 

The grasshoppers jumped and flitted about, some ramming their hard little heads into the side of her car. 

The bees hummed about on their intense little journeys. 

This was how life should be. 

Nothing but the nature, the breeze on her skin and the wind in her hair. 

She wanted nothing more than to stay there, soaking up the heat, lying on the roof of her car.

But she had work.

Inside. 

Her bare feet tensed, feeling the memory of shoes. 

Click (for 5.19.2013)

Click. 

Click. 

“Ooooh.” Click. 

Click.

“OHH! I want it.” 

I sit here on my computer, sifting through stores. My eyes wandering over the many items on the page, my mind circling and circling with different ideas. 

Creating images in my head.

An endless realm of possibilities are looming their wonderful, beautiful heads. 

That necklace! It would be perfect for the outfit! Now to find the perfect jacket.

And so on. 

The thrift stores.

The random bags of clothes from friends. 

The process to create wonderful things! Isn’t it lovely? 

*Click* 

“THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS!?” 

Why can’t my wallet reflect my art?