Build, Crack, Crumble

A fantasy is like a wall. It’s built to keep out the reality, the hurt.  But that wall cracks.  And it crumbles.  And it disintegrates before your very eyes.  And then it hits you.  The pain, and the hurt.  The hot tension that makes you fall over because it’s just too much.  And there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.

So you try to make a new fantasy.  To build a new wall.  To think everything is going to be okay.  Because you know what’s out there.  And you know how it makes your breathing cut off.  And you don’t ever want to feel that way again.

And that moment.  When you heart stops.  When you see that new wall cracking.

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The Fire in Her Eyes

I found this one while going through my things. It still made my heart race, and I hope it makes yours race too.

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A young girl sits in the window. It’s a stormy night. She watches the beauty of the lightning as it soars through the sky. She is alone this night, her parents away for the weekend.

She hears a sound, one that shouldn’t be there. There’s a creaking in the floorboards in the downstairs hallway.

She grabs a flashlight from her bed side table and begins to make her way to the stairs. She peaks her head around the banister and sees a figure.

It doesn’t look human.

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Close your eyes now.

The rain fell down in sheets, cutting the mountainside in to thin streaks of grey, brown and green. I crouched under an old oak tree, damp but relatively protected from the storm. I was taking a shortcut home from school when the rain turned the grass in to a bog and my vision in to a stinging haze. Continue reading

Simon Part 2

Simon sat in his room and scanned the walls. Each item in the room was “his”; they were picked by his foster family to make him feel at home. There was everything little boys loved; there was a bookshelf full of books about cars, sports and dinosaurs. On top of the black shelf lay a baseball glove, a ball and a remote control car. In the corner there sat a small TV and videogame station that had been left almost untouched in the few months he had been there. After he had been with this group for a few weeks they asked him what Simon liked best? He never really understood this question.
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Love, Love, Love

So many people may know the song  Love, Love, Love by Of Monsters and Men. This piece of a story was loosely based on the ideas that I found there and fell in love with. This is also the first appearance of the Raven girl, she is in quite a few stories though her name may change so keep reading and you can see how she will develop. If you love her or hate her as I write her let me know why and I will see what I can do with the input.

She slowly smoothed down her lilac gown and readjusted her matching shawl on her shoulders. She stared in the mirror and shook her long black hair ever so slightly so it fell effortlessly over her shoulders. She stared at the final product of her efforts. Her long slender body was perfectly framed by the tight corset. Her slight hour glass form curving down from her shoulders and flaring in to the gown’s skirt. She had applied little makeup; it always felt wrong on her cream skin. She wore only eyeliner and a little silver shimmer on her eyelid to frame her foggy grey eyes. It was the best she was going to do. She would not have tried at all had she not known he would be there. She imagined seeing him again after all that had happened. She wondered if he would hate her, still love her or worse feel nothing at all. Even after all she had done, she couldn’t bear to be nothing to him.
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The Girl on the Step

This is something short I wrote a little while ago. It just popped in to my head one night and I decided to write it out.

She sat on the stone steps. Telling herself to breathe, just to breathe. As long as she kept breathing she would be ok. In this moment everything else amounted to the forgettable. Breathe in, breathe out; that was all that was mattered. In time breathing became less hard for her. The weight of the rest began to fade. The cold of the steps started to seep back in to her mind; forcing her to consider moving. When she rose finally to drag herself inside; she left a girl there. That girl sat on those steps for an eternity. The only symbol left that the night had ever happened, that anything had been lost. The girl on the step, joined the undead, locked in hidden memories, forcibly forgotten. It was granted one tear; that left a scar as it cut its trail on the cheek of the girl who got up. She glanced back just once to remember… it was time to forget to breathe.