Silence.
I stared out the window at the empty street. I waited for something to move, anything. My room was still; the street, still; the golden trees that lined the roads, still. The world, everything, was still, quiet. I needed to see movement. I yearned for the breeze to sweep the cracking leaves across the deserted road. I longed for a squirel to scamper across the front lawn. I desired to see a single cloud drift across the empty sky. I waited. Nothing.
I needed reassurance. I wanted to know everything was alright. That my life was not paused. I did not budge. I remained perched at my spot at the window. My breathing was so soft, so shallow, I could barely tell I was breathing. I desperately craved to know I was alive, that the world was continuing to turn. I waited. Nothing.
I wanted to feel something, but my limp body was numb. I pressed my face against the cold foggy window, the first movement in what seemen like hours. It felt no different against my cold skin. The thermastat was in the sixties, but I could not feel the cold. I felt no desire for a jacket to cover my bare arms, or socks for my bare feet. There were no goosebumps, no shivers. I pressed my feet into the carpet, but I could not feel the rough fibers rubbing against my dry toes. I continued to work for feeling to return. I waited. Nothing.
I listened for a sound. Straining my ears, patience running out, nervousness creeping through my vains and reaching every last inch of my being, I waited. I thought there was a tingling about my body from the spreading of fear, but if there was I could not feel it. There was not a sound. I hoped for a whistle, the whisper of the missing wind, the chirp of a lonely bird, a cricket's call. I wanted sound, but afraid to say something. Scared that my shouts would escape my mouth and disapear without a sound. I had to know my life was not muted. I waited. Still Nothing.
I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry. I wanted to tell someone, but I had no one to tell, no one to turn to. I wanted someone to listen. I had the words. I had thousands of words, millions. I just needed someone to care, someone to stop and pay attention. I had a hunger for someone to exist besides myself, for someone who understood. I thirsted for someone to come into my life, anyone. I waited. Nothing.
And so I began writing. Getting my thought, desires, wants, needs, cares, down on paper. I felt alive. I knew somewhere, someone, would read my words, would see my needs, would know my thoughts, would feel my pain, would hear my desires. And for that someone, who I can encourage, inspire, I write.
And so I began.
Silence.
I stared out the window at the empty street...
Sunday, October 30
Blend
I'm fading
My body evaporating,
Slowly falling,
Disapearing from this cold earth.
My being, vacating;
All vividness dimming,
All memories, thoughts, feelings,
Vague.
The once distinct details,
Dull.
My life slipping,
All I care for dying away,
Leaving me alone,
In this desolate world.
My surroundings seem to get more attention,
More notice, more concern.
I wish to join them,
To become part of the dilapidated bulidings,
The run-down establishments,
To watch this dark city,
To gain my recognition.
I move along the walls,
I seep through the cracks of hatred,
I walk amidst the shadows of intolerance.
I progress slowly, stilled often
While the world around me
Races.
I am gently melting,
Into the colors of my surroundings
Gradually vanishing from this barren land,
Until I blend completely.
The discrimination of the judgemental has won again.
My body evaporating,
Slowly falling,
Disapearing from this cold earth.
My being, vacating;
All vividness dimming,
All memories, thoughts, feelings,
Vague.
The once distinct details,
Dull.
My life slipping,
All I care for dying away,
Leaving me alone,
In this desolate world.
My surroundings seem to get more attention,
More notice, more concern.
I wish to join them,
To become part of the dilapidated bulidings,
The run-down establishments,
To watch this dark city,
To gain my recognition.
I move along the walls,
I seep through the cracks of hatred,
I walk amidst the shadows of intolerance.
I progress slowly, stilled often
While the world around me
Races.
I am gently melting,
Into the colors of my surroundings
Gradually vanishing from this barren land,
Until I blend completely.
The discrimination of the judgemental has won again.
Slashes
By the time the police got there it was too late. The body was nearly unidentifiable beneath the bloodied and bruised flesh. Slash marks covered his arms, legs, and torso. There was no gun, knives, fingerprints or any type of evidence. There was no need for an autopsy; it was obvious how the kid was murdered. The police couldn’t find anything odd about the situation except that his date to the dance was nowhere to be found and never returned to the school.
Amy sat at her desk playfully glancing toward Evan. She was a cunning creature, like a wild cat on the prowl. She played with her hair shyly whenever he watched her and she peeked in his direction smiling timidly. Her dark brown hair flew gently down her head, behind her ears, and rested on her shoulders. She dropped her pencil and bent down to pick it up allowing her low cut shirt to reveal a minimal amount of her chest before snapping up invitingly as if to say, ‘Do you want more? I’m single.’ She was dangerous.
As the bell rang Evan began fumbling nervously with his books still allowing the thoughts of Amy’s beauty to replay in his mind. He eyed her through the corner of his eye hoping to catch another glimpse. He knew he wouldn’t though. She was saving it.
Amy carefully collected her books, timing it perfectly so that she would walk out next to Evan. She playfully tapped him before turning the other direction down the hall. The smell of her perfume lingered in the air for a mere second before Evan’s fantasies ended and the scene turned from a flowery dimly lit bedroom back to the high school hallway. The sound of banging lockers and screaming teens disrupted his train of thought and any trace of Amy was gone from his mind. For the time being, he had nothing to remember such a beautiful and desirable being. The hallways were decorated with fliers and posters advertising different events being held by the various clubs to raise money.
The most common poster littering the walls was the sign for the Autumn Dance. It was the school’s annual back to school dance. Evan thought of Amy every time he saw the poster. He fought internally. It was that night. He had to invite her.
What if someone already asked her? Ya, but I don’t really know her. She’s new here. Everyone else already knows who they’re going to ask. She doesn’t know anyone! I should invite her! I wouldn’t want her to be alone for her first dance.
There was something different about Amy. Everyone noticed it, even Evan. There was something peculiar about her very being; the way she ate, the way she sat in her classes glancing hungrily in every direction, the way she watched people, especially Evan. Evan forced himself to pretend he didn’t notice. Evan was scrawny for a high school sophomore. He wasn’t short, but his legs bent and he slouched even when he stood. He wasn’t unattractive, but he had an awkward look to him. This was the first time that anyone, especially as attractive as Amy, h-ad ever been interested.
At lunch Amy bumped into Evan purposefully creating a movie scene and allowing Evan the perfect opportunity to ask her to the dance. Evan mumbled nervously as he gathered his pizza and milk carton from the dirty tile floor. She stared straight into his eyes and for the first time he felt nervous as her eyes penetrated his very soul. Her mouth watered as she waited for him to speak. She was in some sort of trance. Evan had never been so terrified before in his life. He slowly spoke the only thing that would pop into his brain-racked mind.
“So, are you going to the dance with anyone?”
. . .
Evan walked shakily into the dance. He scanned the gymnasium for Amy. She walked in the opposite door. She caught his eye and she blinked shyly. Her dress was tight fitted and curved around her hips. It complimented her body as she walked gracefully through the crowd. She was highly attractive, but there was something about her. She enticed men. She was also frightening.
Evan went to meet her and stammered before she began, “I sure am thirsty.”
Catching his cue, Evan stumbled quickly to the drink table where he picked up two cups of the cold pink punch. Upon his return Amy’s eyes lit up and she pushed her hair behind her ears revealing her fine cheeks touched gently with blush. When he came within a few feet from Amy, her flowery scent filled the air all around him. He walked dreamily toward her. She took the cup away with a playful annoyance and began walking away. He started to run to catch up to her asking where she was going.
“Out,” she replied with a hint of boredom in her voice.
Evan caught up with her panting and racked his brain for some way to convince her to stay with him. “Why are you leaving?” he asked afraid he would lose the one girl that ever seemed to show interest in him.
“It’s kind of hot in here, don’t you think?” She rubbed her finger over his lips and down his chin before turning away again uninterestedly. “And way too crowded, let’s go outside.”
Nervously, Evan followed her out the back doors behind the gymnasium. The door led out to behind the school. No one ever really went back there except to take the trash out to the dumpsters. Evan’s mind was swarming with curiosity. Why are we here? Why not go to a nicer place that doesn’t stink so bad. He was scared to ask, though, so he followed silently, waiting to see what Amy was planning.
“No one will bother us out here,” Amy said suddenly as if to answer Evan’s unspoken questions. Evan didn’t know what to say so he just stood there wondering why Amy was so worried about being bothered.
Amy walked along the side of the school humming to herself. “See? Isn’t it much better out here? No one will bother us, and the lighting out here is way better. Light is overrated. The dark makes this much more interesting.”
She walked up behind Evan and removed her sweater covering the top part of her dress revealing the low-cut top hidden beneath. She touched Evan’s arm and he flinched. Remain cool. He thought to himself. This is what she likes.
“Come on,” she said motioning to Evan’s shirt, “relax a little.” With that she unbuttoned the top button of Evan’s dress shirt. Evan tried to hold his breath afraid that the slightest quiver detected in his breath, the slightest hint of fear, would turn Amy off.
She moved slowly down his shirt dramatically unbuttoning one button at a time as if it was a sacred ceremony. Once to the bottom she pulled the shirt down his arms and looked at his bare chest.
Thankful that the dark had covered any red that covered his face from embarrassment at his skinny muscle-lacking abs Evan turned away. Amy grabbed his arm and pulled him back close to her. He could feel her breathing down his chest. She brought her lips to his ears and whispered letting her mouth slightly brush his ears. “Come lay in the grass with me.”
Evan followed her. The grass was dimly lit by one outside light that barely reached the edges of the small field behind the dumpsters. Evan caught her eye gleaming strangely in the light. They never looked like this. He was slightly taken aback at the fire burning in her eyes that he hadn’t noticed until this point. She sat in the grass and waited for him to sit next to her. He lowered himself next to her and waited to see what she wanted. She rubbed his chest with her finger. She leaned in close to him to the point where she was leaning down to him. Out of the top of her dress from right between her breasts an object fell and landed between Evan’s legs. He looked down and a look of horror came over his face. He jerked up knocking Amy off him and onto the wet grass. She stood up angrily.
“What was that about?” She demanded.
Finding his voice Evan barked back, “It was about that!” pointing to the object still lying on the grass, a small hand knife with a sharp edge. “What was that for?”
“In case you didn’t behave yourself,” Amy replied playfully. Seeing Evan wasn’t interested in games she continued, “Oh relax, it was just for self defense if I needed it. That’s all. I promise. Would you lay back down?” Her gentle laughter coaxed Evan to relax again. She laid her head on his chest.
He was nodding off when he felt a sharp pain in his harm. He looked down a noticed Amy’s knife was no longer between his legs. She was slouched awkwardly on him and her arm came over his. He yelled in pain as his arm stung more and more. He tried to yank it away but she had his arm in a death grip.
“Wha-what are you doing?” he stammered.
The knife came out of his arm and with a swing of her wrist it was thrust back into his arm lower down. He let out a yell of pain. The next time she removed her knife Evan jumped up catching her off guard by his sudden burst of strength and the knife fell from Amy’s hand. Blood was now running down his arm. The cuts were deep and Evan tried his best to ignore the pain. He picked up the knife and looked at Amy. “Why?”
Amy looked at him no longer trying to hide her burning lust. “What’s your life like at home, Evan?” she asked.
Slightly confused by the question Evan responded, “I have a mom and a dad, tell me why you’re doing this.”
“Do your parents love you?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“They ever hurt you?”
“What does this have anything to do with-?”
“Answer the question!” Amy screeched.
“Not intentionally, no.”
“They don’t punish you for no reason?”
“Look, I wanna know why you stabbed me.” Evan began trying to hide the fear in his voice.
“Answer the question Evan!”
“You haven’t answered-mine” the last word came out as a squeak as he caught her eyes.
“They hit me, Evan, they beat me. They have no reason, no right, but they do. They don’t love me.” She began. She talked on not to Evan particularly but more to herself. “I endure that pain every night. It helps you to release the pain. No one understands. No one knows what the blades feel like. I can’t stop though, Evan, I can’t stop. It hurts so bad, but it is the only pain I know how to feel. It helped me to know I was still alive. The pain from my parents made me numb. This pain was different. It was new; it was the only thing I could feel. Now someone else knows the pain I endure. Evan, help me.” She began using her sweet voice again except now Evan could hear the falsity. He knew she wanted no help. He tried to bring the knife down on her but Amy didn’t flinch. “You wouldn’t cut me Evan. You wouldn’t cut a girl. You wouldn’t hurt a girl.” Evan brought the knife down on her arm. He screamed in pain as another sharp pain came to his other arm. She laughed at his pain.
Again he aimed for her arm and she watched calmly. As he dug into her skin a large cut formed, but it healed almost immediately and the large cut appeared in his arm instead. He screamed again in agonizing pain. A sudden blur moved around Evan. Amy was rushing at him. Terrified and not sure what to do Evan swung the blade trying to prevent the demon girl from hitting him. He struck her face but she kept running at him without the slightest pause and Evan felt the cut form on his face. A thought of horror came over Evan. I am going to die. There is no way to save myself. I’m killing myself. The damn thing is rigged! It’s some type of dark magic! It has to be!
He hurled the knife through the air; it bounced off the school building and hit the ground with a cling. Seconds later Amy was over him again clutching the knife.
“How-” Evan began.
“You can’t hurt me, Evan, not anymore. That blade hurt me every night. I’m done now. You can’t touch me with that. It will do nothing. I’m immune. You can’t kill the dead, Evan.”
“Why me?”
“Who else could I choose? You, Evan, are helpless. There’s one thing you have that no other guy has. I chose you because you were unpopular and weak. I could easily kill you. I could easily take you down. Without friends you’re the perfect victim. No one will miss you and when someone does notice you’re gone-” the rest came as a whisper, “it’ll be too late.” With that she swung the blade again at Evans torso. He doubled over in pain as his screams of pain and terror turned into sobs. Tears and blood now streaming down his face, Evan ran at her with one last attempt to save himself. Amy smiled and brought the blade down on herself and stabbed the middle of her chest. With a blood curling cry Evan hit the ground gasping for breath. Amy looked down and smiled. "Someone else must feel the pain I endured. Someone else must know what hell is like. When they're alive. And dead."
The knife came then too fast. Evan’s screams were lost as the blood bubbled from his veins. He could hardly breathe. Sometime within the night Amy left him. He was alone to die. He didn’t know when she left; he just knew that he was alone. The slow realization that he was dying and there would be no one there to save him came over him. He couldn’t see. His vision was blurred. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him and he knew what was his only chance of survival was even if he had to die to get it. He pulled up all the strength he had left and spoke into the empty darkness, “Forgive me.” Crying now he finished “Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come…”
A bright light surrounded Evan. He sat up in the grass. At first he wondered how he survived. He looked down and noticed his once destroyed body was unscathed. He sat up and it occurred to him he was not in the field he was in the night before. He sat up and a large set of gates came into view. They were made of pearl and gold woven in intricate designs. They were open and he began to get closer. A voice behind him said in a loving voice unlike anything he’d ever heard before, “I’M GLAD YOU’RE HOME. I’M PROUD OF YOU. ALL ALONG YOU KNEW WHERE YOU’RE REAL HOPE WAS.” Evan turned around to see no one. The only thing behind him was the fiery pits of hell. He was stunned that the fire looked familiar for a second before he realized it was the same fire in Amy’s eyes. He was not scared though. He wasn’t happy or sad. He was simply at peace.
By the time the police got there it was too late. The body was nearly unidentifiable beneath the bloodied and bruised flesh. Slash marks covered his arms, legs, and torso. There was no gun, knives, fingerprints or any type of evidence. There was no need for an autopsy; it was obvious how the kid, who was later identified as Evan Jackson, was murdered.
Amy sat at her desk playfully glancing toward Evan. She was a cunning creature, like a wild cat on the prowl. She played with her hair shyly whenever he watched her and she peeked in his direction smiling timidly. Her dark brown hair flew gently down her head, behind her ears, and rested on her shoulders. She dropped her pencil and bent down to pick it up allowing her low cut shirt to reveal a minimal amount of her chest before snapping up invitingly as if to say, ‘Do you want more? I’m single.’ She was dangerous.
As the bell rang Evan began fumbling nervously with his books still allowing the thoughts of Amy’s beauty to replay in his mind. He eyed her through the corner of his eye hoping to catch another glimpse. He knew he wouldn’t though. She was saving it.
Amy carefully collected her books, timing it perfectly so that she would walk out next to Evan. She playfully tapped him before turning the other direction down the hall. The smell of her perfume lingered in the air for a mere second before Evan’s fantasies ended and the scene turned from a flowery dimly lit bedroom back to the high school hallway. The sound of banging lockers and screaming teens disrupted his train of thought and any trace of Amy was gone from his mind. For the time being, he had nothing to remember such a beautiful and desirable being. The hallways were decorated with fliers and posters advertising different events being held by the various clubs to raise money.
The most common poster littering the walls was the sign for the Autumn Dance. It was the school’s annual back to school dance. Evan thought of Amy every time he saw the poster. He fought internally. It was that night. He had to invite her.
What if someone already asked her? Ya, but I don’t really know her. She’s new here. Everyone else already knows who they’re going to ask. She doesn’t know anyone! I should invite her! I wouldn’t want her to be alone for her first dance.
There was something different about Amy. Everyone noticed it, even Evan. There was something peculiar about her very being; the way she ate, the way she sat in her classes glancing hungrily in every direction, the way she watched people, especially Evan. Evan forced himself to pretend he didn’t notice. Evan was scrawny for a high school sophomore. He wasn’t short, but his legs bent and he slouched even when he stood. He wasn’t unattractive, but he had an awkward look to him. This was the first time that anyone, especially as attractive as Amy, h-ad ever been interested.
At lunch Amy bumped into Evan purposefully creating a movie scene and allowing Evan the perfect opportunity to ask her to the dance. Evan mumbled nervously as he gathered his pizza and milk carton from the dirty tile floor. She stared straight into his eyes and for the first time he felt nervous as her eyes penetrated his very soul. Her mouth watered as she waited for him to speak. She was in some sort of trance. Evan had never been so terrified before in his life. He slowly spoke the only thing that would pop into his brain-racked mind.
“So, are you going to the dance with anyone?”
. . .
Evan walked shakily into the dance. He scanned the gymnasium for Amy. She walked in the opposite door. She caught his eye and she blinked shyly. Her dress was tight fitted and curved around her hips. It complimented her body as she walked gracefully through the crowd. She was highly attractive, but there was something about her. She enticed men. She was also frightening.
Evan went to meet her and stammered before she began, “I sure am thirsty.”
Catching his cue, Evan stumbled quickly to the drink table where he picked up two cups of the cold pink punch. Upon his return Amy’s eyes lit up and she pushed her hair behind her ears revealing her fine cheeks touched gently with blush. When he came within a few feet from Amy, her flowery scent filled the air all around him. He walked dreamily toward her. She took the cup away with a playful annoyance and began walking away. He started to run to catch up to her asking where she was going.
“Out,” she replied with a hint of boredom in her voice.
Evan caught up with her panting and racked his brain for some way to convince her to stay with him. “Why are you leaving?” he asked afraid he would lose the one girl that ever seemed to show interest in him.
“It’s kind of hot in here, don’t you think?” She rubbed her finger over his lips and down his chin before turning away again uninterestedly. “And way too crowded, let’s go outside.”
Nervously, Evan followed her out the back doors behind the gymnasium. The door led out to behind the school. No one ever really went back there except to take the trash out to the dumpsters. Evan’s mind was swarming with curiosity. Why are we here? Why not go to a nicer place that doesn’t stink so bad. He was scared to ask, though, so he followed silently, waiting to see what Amy was planning.
“No one will bother us out here,” Amy said suddenly as if to answer Evan’s unspoken questions. Evan didn’t know what to say so he just stood there wondering why Amy was so worried about being bothered.
Amy walked along the side of the school humming to herself. “See? Isn’t it much better out here? No one will bother us, and the lighting out here is way better. Light is overrated. The dark makes this much more interesting.”
She walked up behind Evan and removed her sweater covering the top part of her dress revealing the low-cut top hidden beneath. She touched Evan’s arm and he flinched. Remain cool. He thought to himself. This is what she likes.
“Come on,” she said motioning to Evan’s shirt, “relax a little.” With that she unbuttoned the top button of Evan’s dress shirt. Evan tried to hold his breath afraid that the slightest quiver detected in his breath, the slightest hint of fear, would turn Amy off.
She moved slowly down his shirt dramatically unbuttoning one button at a time as if it was a sacred ceremony. Once to the bottom she pulled the shirt down his arms and looked at his bare chest.
Thankful that the dark had covered any red that covered his face from embarrassment at his skinny muscle-lacking abs Evan turned away. Amy grabbed his arm and pulled him back close to her. He could feel her breathing down his chest. She brought her lips to his ears and whispered letting her mouth slightly brush his ears. “Come lay in the grass with me.”
Evan followed her. The grass was dimly lit by one outside light that barely reached the edges of the small field behind the dumpsters. Evan caught her eye gleaming strangely in the light. They never looked like this. He was slightly taken aback at the fire burning in her eyes that he hadn’t noticed until this point. She sat in the grass and waited for him to sit next to her. He lowered himself next to her and waited to see what she wanted. She rubbed his chest with her finger. She leaned in close to him to the point where she was leaning down to him. Out of the top of her dress from right between her breasts an object fell and landed between Evan’s legs. He looked down and a look of horror came over his face. He jerked up knocking Amy off him and onto the wet grass. She stood up angrily.
“What was that about?” She demanded.
Finding his voice Evan barked back, “It was about that!” pointing to the object still lying on the grass, a small hand knife with a sharp edge. “What was that for?”
“In case you didn’t behave yourself,” Amy replied playfully. Seeing Evan wasn’t interested in games she continued, “Oh relax, it was just for self defense if I needed it. That’s all. I promise. Would you lay back down?” Her gentle laughter coaxed Evan to relax again. She laid her head on his chest.
He was nodding off when he felt a sharp pain in his harm. He looked down a noticed Amy’s knife was no longer between his legs. She was slouched awkwardly on him and her arm came over his. He yelled in pain as his arm stung more and more. He tried to yank it away but she had his arm in a death grip.
“Wha-what are you doing?” he stammered.
The knife came out of his arm and with a swing of her wrist it was thrust back into his arm lower down. He let out a yell of pain. The next time she removed her knife Evan jumped up catching her off guard by his sudden burst of strength and the knife fell from Amy’s hand. Blood was now running down his arm. The cuts were deep and Evan tried his best to ignore the pain. He picked up the knife and looked at Amy. “Why?”
Amy looked at him no longer trying to hide her burning lust. “What’s your life like at home, Evan?” she asked.
Slightly confused by the question Evan responded, “I have a mom and a dad, tell me why you’re doing this.”
“Do your parents love you?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“They ever hurt you?”
“What does this have anything to do with-?”
“Answer the question!” Amy screeched.
“Not intentionally, no.”
“They don’t punish you for no reason?”
“Look, I wanna know why you stabbed me.” Evan began trying to hide the fear in his voice.
“Answer the question Evan!”
“You haven’t answered-mine” the last word came out as a squeak as he caught her eyes.
“They hit me, Evan, they beat me. They have no reason, no right, but they do. They don’t love me.” She began. She talked on not to Evan particularly but more to herself. “I endure that pain every night. It helps you to release the pain. No one understands. No one knows what the blades feel like. I can’t stop though, Evan, I can’t stop. It hurts so bad, but it is the only pain I know how to feel. It helped me to know I was still alive. The pain from my parents made me numb. This pain was different. It was new; it was the only thing I could feel. Now someone else knows the pain I endure. Evan, help me.” She began using her sweet voice again except now Evan could hear the falsity. He knew she wanted no help. He tried to bring the knife down on her but Amy didn’t flinch. “You wouldn’t cut me Evan. You wouldn’t cut a girl. You wouldn’t hurt a girl.” Evan brought the knife down on her arm. He screamed in pain as another sharp pain came to his other arm. She laughed at his pain.
Again he aimed for her arm and she watched calmly. As he dug into her skin a large cut formed, but it healed almost immediately and the large cut appeared in his arm instead. He screamed again in agonizing pain. A sudden blur moved around Evan. Amy was rushing at him. Terrified and not sure what to do Evan swung the blade trying to prevent the demon girl from hitting him. He struck her face but she kept running at him without the slightest pause and Evan felt the cut form on his face. A thought of horror came over Evan. I am going to die. There is no way to save myself. I’m killing myself. The damn thing is rigged! It’s some type of dark magic! It has to be!
He hurled the knife through the air; it bounced off the school building and hit the ground with a cling. Seconds later Amy was over him again clutching the knife.
“How-” Evan began.
“You can’t hurt me, Evan, not anymore. That blade hurt me every night. I’m done now. You can’t touch me with that. It will do nothing. I’m immune. You can’t kill the dead, Evan.”
“Why me?”
“Who else could I choose? You, Evan, are helpless. There’s one thing you have that no other guy has. I chose you because you were unpopular and weak. I could easily kill you. I could easily take you down. Without friends you’re the perfect victim. No one will miss you and when someone does notice you’re gone-” the rest came as a whisper, “it’ll be too late.” With that she swung the blade again at Evans torso. He doubled over in pain as his screams of pain and terror turned into sobs. Tears and blood now streaming down his face, Evan ran at her with one last attempt to save himself. Amy smiled and brought the blade down on herself and stabbed the middle of her chest. With a blood curling cry Evan hit the ground gasping for breath. Amy looked down and smiled. "Someone else must feel the pain I endured. Someone else must know what hell is like. When they're alive. And dead."
The knife came then too fast. Evan’s screams were lost as the blood bubbled from his veins. He could hardly breathe. Sometime within the night Amy left him. He was alone to die. He didn’t know when she left; he just knew that he was alone. The slow realization that he was dying and there would be no one there to save him came over him. He couldn’t see. His vision was blurred. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him and he knew what was his only chance of survival was even if he had to die to get it. He pulled up all the strength he had left and spoke into the empty darkness, “Forgive me.” Crying now he finished “Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come…”
A bright light surrounded Evan. He sat up in the grass. At first he wondered how he survived. He looked down and noticed his once destroyed body was unscathed. He sat up and it occurred to him he was not in the field he was in the night before. He sat up and a large set of gates came into view. They were made of pearl and gold woven in intricate designs. They were open and he began to get closer. A voice behind him said in a loving voice unlike anything he’d ever heard before, “I’M GLAD YOU’RE HOME. I’M PROUD OF YOU. ALL ALONG YOU KNEW WHERE YOU’RE REAL HOPE WAS.” Evan turned around to see no one. The only thing behind him was the fiery pits of hell. He was stunned that the fire looked familiar for a second before he realized it was the same fire in Amy’s eyes. He was not scared though. He wasn’t happy or sad. He was simply at peace.
By the time the police got there it was too late. The body was nearly unidentifiable beneath the bloodied and bruised flesh. Slash marks covered his arms, legs, and torso. There was no gun, knives, fingerprints or any type of evidence. There was no need for an autopsy; it was obvious how the kid, who was later identified as Evan Jackson, was murdered.
Penetrating Light: My first Poem
The night is creeping in closer
Farther and farther I fall
Until I am consumed in darkness
Faster and faster I slip
Beyond the grasp of hope
Death waiting to kill, to devour,
Deeper and deeper I go
Every second closer to landing
At the bottom of the god forsaken well
Amid the darkness is a scorching heat
My flesh burns
The blackness presses in
The pressure bound against my lungs
I feel them near burst
Hotter and hotter the air around me
The thickness from humidity nearly suffocating
I have entered the Devil’s kingdom
Hell waits to unleash its wrath
The fate I deserve
For my sinful life
My head throbs
The lack of the smallest speck of light
Drives me insane
The uncertainty of what could be inches from my face
Drives me to madness.
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A light
Brighter and brighter it glows
Illuminating the well
A figure appears
Radiating in blinding light
The black vanished
Replaced with white
My eyes could not bear the brilliant shine
Illuminating the cave
The silhouette shed light
Wider and wider it thrust the walls
Like water it rushed
Splashing over my face
My skin
Pouring over me
Gushing over my open wounds
Deep with greed and pride
Cleaning the infection
Purifying
Healing the gash
My sins ever present evaporate
Slipping into the air
They disappear
No longer in existence
Saved from the eternal pits
Of hells unforgiving fire
The grace of GOD
The return of hope
Bringing me home
In perfect unity
With Christ my savior
In seemingly unending dark,
The Penetrating Light
Farther and farther I fall
Until I am consumed in darkness
Faster and faster I slip
Beyond the grasp of hope
Death waiting to kill, to devour,
Deeper and deeper I go
Every second closer to landing
At the bottom of the god forsaken well
Amid the darkness is a scorching heat
My flesh burns
The blackness presses in
The pressure bound against my lungs
I feel them near burst
Hotter and hotter the air around me
The thickness from humidity nearly suffocating
I have entered the Devil’s kingdom
Hell waits to unleash its wrath
The fate I deserve
For my sinful life
My head throbs
The lack of the smallest speck of light
Drives me insane
The uncertainty of what could be inches from my face
Drives me to madness.
|
|
A light
Brighter and brighter it glows
Illuminating the well
A figure appears
Radiating in blinding light
The black vanished
Replaced with white
My eyes could not bear the brilliant shine
Illuminating the cave
The silhouette shed light
Wider and wider it thrust the walls
Like water it rushed
Splashing over my face
My skin
Pouring over me
Gushing over my open wounds
Deep with greed and pride
Cleaning the infection
Purifying
Healing the gash
My sins ever present evaporate
Slipping into the air
They disappear
No longer in existence
Saved from the eternal pits
Of hells unforgiving fire
The grace of GOD
The return of hope
Bringing me home
In perfect unity
With Christ my savior
In seemingly unending dark,
The Penetrating Light
Speed Bump
The feeling had returned. People had asked me what it felt like, but it can’t be explained. Of the billions of words, no combination of them could explain it. I felt weak, my stomach in knots, the feeling of severe nervousness experienced by one with extreme stage fright about to go in front of a large audience of people. Nausea and an intense hunger collide creating such a gut wrenching phenomenon. I felt dazed, slowly slipping away from reality. Small sounds brought me back. Alert again, I looked around before slipping away once again. I felt as if I couldn’t move, helpless and alone as my limp body stammered across the room.
I dig through my bag, rummaging around. Shaking, my hands close around the small black pouch and with desperateness I pull it out. I grasp at the small Velcro flap and rip it open. My hands fumble around the paper packaging as, with great effort, I am able to tear it. The smell of alcohol escapes into the air as the soft cotton pad is exposed. I slide it out of the paper and coat my finger in the strong odor of the swab.
I jam the small plastic strip into a device, a small machine in which I depend all health affairs on the accuracy of. Bringing a small plastic case housing a small needle to my finger, I press the button, stabbing the alcohol covered finger. Barely feeling the jab, I look down at my finger tip. Blood seeps from the hole in my finger. I squeeze at my finger until an even bead of blood gathers. I press the blood to the strip as it sucks it in. Within seconds a number appears on the screen, 53. Low. I didn’t need the machine to tell me this. I knew. The warning signs my body sent out, the feeling in my stomach, I knew, and I needed food.
With the feeling of sickness still ever present, I let my shaking fingers close around the crumbling glucose tablet that my well being relied on. The strong scent brought about the nausea, making it even more prevalent. The sweet smell that so often tempted and taunted me now turned to vile torment. I felt sick, and nearly gagged as I forced the pure sugar down my throat. Beginning to feel better I ate crackers, and once the queasiness vanished I craved another tablet. Gathering all self control, I pushed the container of tablets back into my bag and sighed. That was enough sugar for one day.
The whole concept was still new, still hard, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. But I wouldn’t let myself cry. The diabetes changed a lot about my life, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me. “Diabetes isn’t a road block, it’s a speed bump.”
I dig through my bag, rummaging around. Shaking, my hands close around the small black pouch and with desperateness I pull it out. I grasp at the small Velcro flap and rip it open. My hands fumble around the paper packaging as, with great effort, I am able to tear it. The smell of alcohol escapes into the air as the soft cotton pad is exposed. I slide it out of the paper and coat my finger in the strong odor of the swab.
I jam the small plastic strip into a device, a small machine in which I depend all health affairs on the accuracy of. Bringing a small plastic case housing a small needle to my finger, I press the button, stabbing the alcohol covered finger. Barely feeling the jab, I look down at my finger tip. Blood seeps from the hole in my finger. I squeeze at my finger until an even bead of blood gathers. I press the blood to the strip as it sucks it in. Within seconds a number appears on the screen, 53. Low. I didn’t need the machine to tell me this. I knew. The warning signs my body sent out, the feeling in my stomach, I knew, and I needed food.
With the feeling of sickness still ever present, I let my shaking fingers close around the crumbling glucose tablet that my well being relied on. The strong scent brought about the nausea, making it even more prevalent. The sweet smell that so often tempted and taunted me now turned to vile torment. I felt sick, and nearly gagged as I forced the pure sugar down my throat. Beginning to feel better I ate crackers, and once the queasiness vanished I craved another tablet. Gathering all self control, I pushed the container of tablets back into my bag and sighed. That was enough sugar for one day.
The whole concept was still new, still hard, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. But I wouldn’t let myself cry. The diabetes changed a lot about my life, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me. “Diabetes isn’t a road block, it’s a speed bump.”
Pink: A (very) Short Story For Breast Cancer Awareness
There was no fear or embarrassment as he climbed off the bus and headed into the school building. He made his way up the stairs towards his locker ignoring the people poking fun at his pink socks and backpack. As he neared his locker the crowd of boys that greeted him everyday circled around him.
“What’s up, gay wad?” the first asked smirking. The crowd behind him laughed as he pushed him by the shoulders into his locker.
He kept quiet as he stood himself up and opened his locker. One of the pink ribbons that hung from the top of his locker fell out, but before he could grab it another kid picked it up.
“Here you go fag, here’s your hair bow.” The crowd laughed as Mitchell took the ribbon from his hand and draped it across the hooks along the top of his locker.
“Will you go out with me?” one asked from somewhere amongst the group of boys.
“Hey!” another shouted, “lay off, that’s my boyfriend your flirting with!” The audience erupted in laughter.
Mitchell looked up at Jason, the first boy who led the assembly of harassers. His eyes burnt with emotion. They penetrated as he stood up for himself after months of countless ridicule for the pink ribbon draped across his locker, the pink shoelaces that replaced the original black ones, and the variety of pink shirts he wore every day. The look in his eyes was not pain, sadness, or even anger, but it was intense and the group of boys grew silent as he stared Jason down.
“You want to know why I wear pink?” he began steadily.
“Cause you wish you was a girl?” Jason answered with a sly grin.
“Nope,” Mitchell replied plainly without any emotion, “you guys want to know something? My mom abused me; she lost her rights and I’ve been living with my aunt and uncle for seven years. Earlier this year I lost both my aunt and my grandmother. They died within a month of each other. I wear pink to remember my aunt and grandmother, who within the same month died of breast cancer. I wear pink for my grandmother, the one person I could go to about everything. Me and my uncle wear pink for his wife, the closest thing to a loving mother I’ve ever had.” The crowd remained silent as Mitchell took a pink notebook from his locker, turned on his heels, and left the still crowd behind him as he walked away, never to be bothered about pink again.
“What’s up, gay wad?” the first asked smirking. The crowd behind him laughed as he pushed him by the shoulders into his locker.
He kept quiet as he stood himself up and opened his locker. One of the pink ribbons that hung from the top of his locker fell out, but before he could grab it another kid picked it up.
“Here you go fag, here’s your hair bow.” The crowd laughed as Mitchell took the ribbon from his hand and draped it across the hooks along the top of his locker.
“Will you go out with me?” one asked from somewhere amongst the group of boys.
“Hey!” another shouted, “lay off, that’s my boyfriend your flirting with!” The audience erupted in laughter.
Mitchell looked up at Jason, the first boy who led the assembly of harassers. His eyes burnt with emotion. They penetrated as he stood up for himself after months of countless ridicule for the pink ribbon draped across his locker, the pink shoelaces that replaced the original black ones, and the variety of pink shirts he wore every day. The look in his eyes was not pain, sadness, or even anger, but it was intense and the group of boys grew silent as he stared Jason down.
“You want to know why I wear pink?” he began steadily.
“Cause you wish you was a girl?” Jason answered with a sly grin.
“Nope,” Mitchell replied plainly without any emotion, “you guys want to know something? My mom abused me; she lost her rights and I’ve been living with my aunt and uncle for seven years. Earlier this year I lost both my aunt and my grandmother. They died within a month of each other. I wear pink to remember my aunt and grandmother, who within the same month died of breast cancer. I wear pink for my grandmother, the one person I could go to about everything. Me and my uncle wear pink for his wife, the closest thing to a loving mother I’ve ever had.” The crowd remained silent as Mitchell took a pink notebook from his locker, turned on his heels, and left the still crowd behind him as he walked away, never to be bothered about pink again.
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