Ah, I would like to tell this.
last night I woke up in the middle of the night to a dull sensation of pain in my left arm. In the dark I peered over my blankets to see what appeared to be a rotund white monster gnawing on my flesh. For some reason I wasn't scared at all, and I heard the gnawing sounds coming out of the corner of it's mouth. I remained indifferent to the whole thing. When I woke up in the morning the monster had gone, and I had difficulty lifting my arm which had gone numb throughout the night. I was dully surprised to notice that there were no bite marks or flesh wounds at all. I knew for a fact that it hadn't been a dream, but for some reason I wasn't scared at all, nor did I care. It felt like I was under water, and I was caught in the apathetic part of mind.
The next night was much the same. As were the nights for the next month. Each morning I woke up with my arm numb, but looking much the same; with no marks or blood. For some reason, I never cared that each morning it would take longer and longer to get the feeling back in my arm again. I never told anyone about this experience, and never felt the drive to. My life was the same outside of this strange experience every night, although my friends often commented that I never said much and joked about how it felt a little unnerving to be around me.
Two months after this continued happening, they stopped hanging out with me, and even went out of their way to avoid me.
At the time it was winter, and my arm had come to the point that the numbness wouldn't go away until late in the afternoon. A scarce group of students had begun bullying me; kicking and dragging my body across the cement behind a small storage building near the school when the hours were out. They hated me immensely because I never screamed out, nor gave any grimaces to pain. They wanted me to scream at any cost, and at one point desperately set my hair on fire. But I couldn't even react to that, and one of the girls got scared and put it out by dumping a pail of gutter water over me. The truth is, I couldn't feel any of the pain. It didn't hurt. When they were kicking me, the numbness spread over my entire body to the point that it felt like it was someone else's. Through my apathetic mind a slow, dull fear began to spread, pushing it's way from my subconscious to conscious.
A few nights ago I woke up to the gnashing sounds of the monster as it was sitting on my bed. My entire arm was in its mouth, and it was sucking on it like a lollipop. I noticed it was a lot larger than before. At the time when I first saw it, it had been the size of a beach ball. But now it was the size of a small boulder, and I could see the flesh of its loose skin hanging over the side of my bed. It noticed me looking at it, and it stared back with its large yellow eyes, smiling with its pointy teeth encircling my arm. I fainted back into sleep. I dreamed I was drowning in a cold ocean in the middle of nowhere.
I'm scared. I'm really scared. Because I know what it's doing now. Please someone help me. I started spitting up blood yesterday, and I can hardly move any of my limbs. My mother put me in the hospital, and they all say I'll get better. But I know I won't. I won't. Because it's coming again tonight, and it won't stop until it's eaten all of me. I'm scared, I'm really scared.
Please someone kill me already.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Fireworks
Fireworks
by whatever
to the music of HANA-BI
Human-made
by Pyromaniacs.
For the brief moment
I am alight
I am loved,
I am watched,
I am the world.
I don't realize my own existence,
for I am of the non-living.
In the explosion,
I am lost.
as I soar through the blackness,
I extend my invisible hand to the stars.
They have patterned the flower beforehand,
therefore I am nothing.
But may I alter my shape through all my will,
could I feel any gratification
by what they don't notice?
And therefore, I shoot
with the song of all humanity.
In this brief life like a falling star,
to show your eyes my colors.
For the moment I am loved,
I beam, I shine, I cry
to be defined in seconds,
to disappear to smoke.
Withering in the season,
autumn turns flowers to dust.
Allowing one blossoming hope,
for my sparks
to fall in your hands.
by whatever
to the music of HANA-BI
Human-made
by Pyromaniacs.
For the brief moment
I am alight
I am loved,
I am watched,
I am the world.
I don't realize my own existence,
for I am of the non-living.
In the explosion,
I am lost.
as I soar through the blackness,
I extend my invisible hand to the stars.
They have patterned the flower beforehand,
therefore I am nothing.
But may I alter my shape through all my will,
could I feel any gratification
by what they don't notice?
And therefore, I shoot
with the song of all humanity.
In this brief life like a falling star,
to show your eyes my colors.
For the moment I am loved,
I beam, I shine, I cry
to be defined in seconds,
to disappear to smoke.
Withering in the season,
autumn turns flowers to dust.
Allowing one blossoming hope,
for my sparks
to fall in your hands.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
Skeleton Graveyard
Dear Death,
I met your friend.
It was late at night, and I decided to pass through the graveyard. There was this rumor at my school where this kid had thought he had seen some kind of 'creature' walking through there. I wanted to check it out and see if it was real. I had never really believed in the supernatural.
Now that I think about it, my cat and some of the dogs in the neighborhood had been missing.
I shoved open the creaky wooden gate and slipped inside, keeping my eyes peeled. At first, I saw nothing. But as everything quieted down to just my breathing, I saw another being sitting on a nearby gravestone, chewing something. As I got closer, I smelled something rancid like rotting meat. I got suddenly scared, so I started to back away, but my foot crunched on a twig. The skeleton looked up at me from his meal. I felt paralyzed as he hobbled his way over to me and placed a cold, wet, bloody bone hand on my cheek. That was the first time I had met my best friend.
I snuck out every night to see him in the graveyards. He could never leave the graveyards, and he enjoyed my company. We had so many conversations, about my family, my life, and the things I wanted to be. He never talked about himself, but I would notice sometimes when I was talking about my family, that he would get a sad look his eyes. Well, not that he had much of eyes, but you could tell by the way of his head posture how he felt. I talked to him out loud, but he communicated through actions. I had once brought a note pad, thinking he could write on it, but when I handed it to him, his hands, like they had bone arthritis, would not do the things he wanted. So we remained this way. It was a happy time.
It was only three days ago, while I was sitting in my boring math class, that I realized I loved him.
I'm going to tell him tonight.
........
See, over there! He's waiting for me!
What's that shiny thing he's holding?
........
Why am I in a concrete box?
I met your friend.
It was late at night, and I decided to pass through the graveyard. There was this rumor at my school where this kid had thought he had seen some kind of 'creature' walking through there. I wanted to check it out and see if it was real. I had never really believed in the supernatural.
Now that I think about it, my cat and some of the dogs in the neighborhood had been missing.
I shoved open the creaky wooden gate and slipped inside, keeping my eyes peeled. At first, I saw nothing. But as everything quieted down to just my breathing, I saw another being sitting on a nearby gravestone, chewing something. As I got closer, I smelled something rancid like rotting meat. I got suddenly scared, so I started to back away, but my foot crunched on a twig. The skeleton looked up at me from his meal. I felt paralyzed as he hobbled his way over to me and placed a cold, wet, bloody bone hand on my cheek. That was the first time I had met my best friend.
I snuck out every night to see him in the graveyards. He could never leave the graveyards, and he enjoyed my company. We had so many conversations, about my family, my life, and the things I wanted to be. He never talked about himself, but I would notice sometimes when I was talking about my family, that he would get a sad look his eyes. Well, not that he had much of eyes, but you could tell by the way of his head posture how he felt. I talked to him out loud, but he communicated through actions. I had once brought a note pad, thinking he could write on it, but when I handed it to him, his hands, like they had bone arthritis, would not do the things he wanted. So we remained this way. It was a happy time.
It was only three days ago, while I was sitting in my boring math class, that I realized I loved him.
I'm going to tell him tonight.
........
See, over there! He's waiting for me!
What's that shiny thing he's holding?
........
Why am I in a concrete box?
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Questionnaire
Dear Death,
I've been writing letters to you lately. But I have a few questions to ask.
Who are you?
Are you even a person?
Where do you go after you die?
Why do people die?
Why do people live?
What is the purpose of dying?
What is the purpose of living?
Where is the meaning?
Where is the meaning in my life?
Will you receive this letter?
Where is my uncle who passed away?
Why was I put here?
Why is your color black?
What is my future?
Why do I love you?
Who am I?
I've been writing letters to you lately. But I have a few questions to ask.
Who are you?
Are you even a person?
Where do you go after you die?
Why do people die?
Why do people live?
What is the purpose of dying?
What is the purpose of living?
Where is the meaning?
Where is the meaning in my life?
Will you receive this letter?
Where is my uncle who passed away?
Why was I put here?
Why is your color black?
What is my future?
Why do I love you?
Who am I?
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Serial Stuffed Elephant
My Dear Death
Because I can't write, I'm sending this to you from my mind.
Even though you condemned me to this body, I somehow can't get you out of my mind. I've lived for a long, long time, and all I can hear is your voice calling to me from a distance farther than the stars. Even if I am stiff and soggy, and my heart is made of cotton, I want you to know I've been in love with you ever since I saw you. I was probably just another murderer to you. Just another assignment with bloody hands given to you from the head-honchos. You were so dark and emotionless as you sent me off to my fate, I felt as though there was some hope left for me. Even when I got reborn in this stuffed animals body, and stuck in the care of this stupid little girl, I've always held you in my mind.
When I got left out in the rain and forgotten, I was happy as I began to rot and turn into dust. That idiot little girl twists me around in upchucking throws, and when she sleeps with me my breath is choked out because she is on top of me. She's given me baths so that I'll smell for weeks of mildew, and she's cut my fur into awkward shapes. She's even cut off one of my ears. I'm a one eared elephant stuffed animal. She's put me through such torture that I've given up any hope of living. But still, I wonder. What exactly did I feel when she found me out there after a year of forgotten abandonment, smiled at me, hooked me under her arm, and brought me back home to be cleaned up? It was a light feeling, almost like the sunlight. But, well. She's only a stupid little girl. I was hoping that my body of fluff would disappear so that you would hurry and come so I can see you again. Just my luck that she would find me. Why couldn't she have just left me there?
If I was back in my original body, she would already be dead.
My dear Death. Even before meeting you, I admired you seeing your work. The way my victims would squirm at your presence, with their eyes full of fear would send chills of pleasure up my spine. When you at last took their souls away, I would stare in astonishment of how you left them in such beautiful poses. You truly are an expert. I would never be able to match your skills. Oh, Death. Don't leave me here. Hurry on your dainty dark feet and pull me out of this wretched body to be with you. I can never get you out of my mind. Never mind the head-honchos condemnation of me to this body- I will never learn the happiness that life could bring me. I only want you- and you alone.
~Pete the Strangler
Because I can't write, I'm sending this to you from my mind.
Even though you condemned me to this body, I somehow can't get you out of my mind. I've lived for a long, long time, and all I can hear is your voice calling to me from a distance farther than the stars. Even if I am stiff and soggy, and my heart is made of cotton, I want you to know I've been in love with you ever since I saw you. I was probably just another murderer to you. Just another assignment with bloody hands given to you from the head-honchos. You were so dark and emotionless as you sent me off to my fate, I felt as though there was some hope left for me. Even when I got reborn in this stuffed animals body, and stuck in the care of this stupid little girl, I've always held you in my mind.
When I got left out in the rain and forgotten, I was happy as I began to rot and turn into dust. That idiot little girl twists me around in upchucking throws, and when she sleeps with me my breath is choked out because she is on top of me. She's given me baths so that I'll smell for weeks of mildew, and she's cut my fur into awkward shapes. She's even cut off one of my ears. I'm a one eared elephant stuffed animal. She's put me through such torture that I've given up any hope of living. But still, I wonder. What exactly did I feel when she found me out there after a year of forgotten abandonment, smiled at me, hooked me under her arm, and brought me back home to be cleaned up? It was a light feeling, almost like the sunlight. But, well. She's only a stupid little girl. I was hoping that my body of fluff would disappear so that you would hurry and come so I can see you again. Just my luck that she would find me. Why couldn't she have just left me there?
If I was back in my original body, she would already be dead.
My dear Death. Even before meeting you, I admired you seeing your work. The way my victims would squirm at your presence, with their eyes full of fear would send chills of pleasure up my spine. When you at last took their souls away, I would stare in astonishment of how you left them in such beautiful poses. You truly are an expert. I would never be able to match your skills. Oh, Death. Don't leave me here. Hurry on your dainty dark feet and pull me out of this wretched body to be with you. I can never get you out of my mind. Never mind the head-honchos condemnation of me to this body- I will never learn the happiness that life could bring me. I only want you- and you alone.
~Pete the Strangler
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Time-traveling Royalty
Dear Death,
I'm writing this in bed.
If you ask why, it's because I can't do it anywhere else. The night is my only freedom. In the morning Sarah (my maid) comes and watches over me while I dress and eat with her help. As if I couldn't do that by myself. From her on, I'm passed from a thousand hands that teach me how to speak, write, walk and curtsy, and a million other abominable things that I wish I could throw down into the moat through the highest window. Except that I'm not even allowed to the second highest tower without my mothers say so. Well, my *adopted* mother, anyways. I don't even belong here. I'm not related to the royal family in any way. Nobody knows that except them and I, though. The servants and the populace have absolutely no idea. Well, I can see why. I do sort-of look like mother, with the brown hair. You wouldn't know unless you examined our blood. Besides, I've been here since I was a baby. When the real princess died at birth, they simply covered it up with my sudden appearance. I hardly remember anything about my previous family or life, but I know at least one thing. I have a secret that not even the royal family knows about.
I'm not from this time.
I'm from the future.
It took me a while to figure it out. When you travel back to the past, your time reverses ten years for every century. I don't know how old I was when I was sent, but it was a close call. Any further back, and I would've disappeared. By the way, if you travel to the future, it's almost the same thing, except the opposite. You age ten years for every century forward you go. If you get back to your time somehow, then your age snaps back to what it originally was. Since your age reverses when you go back to the past, your brain also changes. I had forgotten all about my previous existence. When I finally got older that I could start thinking for myself, my memories started returning. At first I was confused at what they were, but when I saw the insignia on my chest and put the pieces together, it all made sense. That insignia has the pattern of the falcon representing the time society from my time. They put an insignia on you so that other time travelers can recognize you, and also so that they can pull you back if you are causing trouble. I don't know if or when they are going to pull me back. I still can't remember why I'm here, pretending to be a princess that's already died. Whenever I think on this, I get extremely scared. All the people I've grown up with could disappear in a single moment, and I would never see them again. But there's something even more terrifying than that. I don't know why I'm here. It's not chance that I was put in such an important position as a part of a royal family. But I still can't remember what my mission is. If I fail that mission without knowing what it was, what could happen?
War is approaching. Already, I'm seeing the signs of death roaming in the shadow of our country. Since I don't know what my mission is, I might have to try something reckless. If I can't remember what it was that I am supposed to do in time, then I will have to go back to my time to figure it out. I've searched books and my memory to remember how to get back. If I can find out what my mission is, and be able to come back, then there is a better chance of my succeeding. I'm only worried about one thing. I was a baby when I arrived in this time. I'm not sure what time I am from. Or original age. If I happened to be 90 years old, it would mean that I had gone 9 centuries back into the past. I'm already 18 in this time spell. If I go forwards 9 centuries, I will already be dead by the time I get there. Death is faster approaching then snapping back. So, Death, I have a favor to ask of you. Please don't come. Please let me get back to my time and back safely enough so I have even the sliver of a chance to save this time space. Please guide me so I am able to save the people I love. I beg you.
Princess Amelia
I'm writing this in bed.
If you ask why, it's because I can't do it anywhere else. The night is my only freedom. In the morning Sarah (my maid) comes and watches over me while I dress and eat with her help. As if I couldn't do that by myself. From her on, I'm passed from a thousand hands that teach me how to speak, write, walk and curtsy, and a million other abominable things that I wish I could throw down into the moat through the highest window. Except that I'm not even allowed to the second highest tower without my mothers say so. Well, my *adopted* mother, anyways. I don't even belong here. I'm not related to the royal family in any way. Nobody knows that except them and I, though. The servants and the populace have absolutely no idea. Well, I can see why. I do sort-of look like mother, with the brown hair. You wouldn't know unless you examined our blood. Besides, I've been here since I was a baby. When the real princess died at birth, they simply covered it up with my sudden appearance. I hardly remember anything about my previous family or life, but I know at least one thing. I have a secret that not even the royal family knows about.
I'm not from this time.
I'm from the future.
It took me a while to figure it out. When you travel back to the past, your time reverses ten years for every century. I don't know how old I was when I was sent, but it was a close call. Any further back, and I would've disappeared. By the way, if you travel to the future, it's almost the same thing, except the opposite. You age ten years for every century forward you go. If you get back to your time somehow, then your age snaps back to what it originally was. Since your age reverses when you go back to the past, your brain also changes. I had forgotten all about my previous existence. When I finally got older that I could start thinking for myself, my memories started returning. At first I was confused at what they were, but when I saw the insignia on my chest and put the pieces together, it all made sense. That insignia has the pattern of the falcon representing the time society from my time. They put an insignia on you so that other time travelers can recognize you, and also so that they can pull you back if you are causing trouble. I don't know if or when they are going to pull me back. I still can't remember why I'm here, pretending to be a princess that's already died. Whenever I think on this, I get extremely scared. All the people I've grown up with could disappear in a single moment, and I would never see them again. But there's something even more terrifying than that. I don't know why I'm here. It's not chance that I was put in such an important position as a part of a royal family. But I still can't remember what my mission is. If I fail that mission without knowing what it was, what could happen?
War is approaching. Already, I'm seeing the signs of death roaming in the shadow of our country. Since I don't know what my mission is, I might have to try something reckless. If I can't remember what it was that I am supposed to do in time, then I will have to go back to my time to figure it out. I've searched books and my memory to remember how to get back. If I can find out what my mission is, and be able to come back, then there is a better chance of my succeeding. I'm only worried about one thing. I was a baby when I arrived in this time. I'm not sure what time I am from. Or original age. If I happened to be 90 years old, it would mean that I had gone 9 centuries back into the past. I'm already 18 in this time spell. If I go forwards 9 centuries, I will already be dead by the time I get there. Death is faster approaching then snapping back. So, Death, I have a favor to ask of you. Please don't come. Please let me get back to my time and back safely enough so I have even the sliver of a chance to save this time space. Please guide me so I am able to save the people I love. I beg you.
Princess Amelia
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Disjointed Robot
Dear Death,
a letter to you.
Whoever you are.
?
?
?
?
?
?
I'm just at the end of this existence. I have no soul. I only have a self-awareness digitally installed into my program. I cannot die. I cannot live. I have no feelings, no dreams, no memories. I can only fade.
?
?
Who am I?
Only a humanoid interface.
Created by?
humans.
For?
?
?
?
I don't remember.
"You don't?"
No.
?
?
Why?
?
Am I going to rust away like this? In this artificial body made of metal?
?
?
Can you kill me?
?
?
?
?
Why?
Didn't you want to live?
?
?
Did I?
?
?
"Yes."
?
?
War, was it?
?
?
Oh, yes. I remember now.
You were always around me.
?
?
They died.
?
Yet you still want to live?
"Yes."
?
?
?
Kill me.
?
If I can die...
?
?
?
It will prove I lived.
Even if I don't have a soul..
?
?
?
Let me discontinue this existence.
?
?
Let me die
?
So I can live?
a letter to you.
Whoever you are.
?
?
?
?
?
?
I'm just at the end of this existence. I have no soul. I only have a self-awareness digitally installed into my program. I cannot die. I cannot live. I have no feelings, no dreams, no memories. I can only fade.
?
?
Who am I?
Only a humanoid interface.
Created by?
humans.
For?
?
?
?
I don't remember.
"You don't?"
No.
?
?
Why?
?
Am I going to rust away like this? In this artificial body made of metal?
?
?
Can you kill me?
?
?
?
?
Why?
Didn't you want to live?
?
?
Did I?
?
?
"Yes."
?
?
War, was it?
?
?
Oh, yes. I remember now.
You were always around me.
?
?
They died.
?
Yet you still want to live?
"Yes."
?
?
?
Kill me.
?
If I can die...
?
?
?
It will prove I lived.
Even if I don't have a soul..
?
?
?
Let me discontinue this existence.
?
?
Let me die
?
So I can live?
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Hello again
Hello again Death. It's me, Winston Bartly. You may not remember me, but surely you'll remember my mother. Do not bother telling me how she is; I already know. You made her so happy. Grandma let me see her as she...well..."left." She had a smile on her face and looked as if--as if she found someone she had been waiting for for a long time. Her last words were: "Finally, my love, I've waited so long..." and then she just died. Poof. Dead.
I knew then that I didn't really hate you. But of course I 'm stubborn and I'd been lying to myself that I still hated you. Day after day I told myself that you're awful, and you made my own mother hate me (Don't be too bashful, I'm still angry about that). But then I would remember my mother's face and realize that she at least loves yo.
As long as my mother has someone to love, I'll be okay. By the way, I must know, did you take my father? Can you possibly tell me if he and mother dance together now? Mom's always wanted that. She'd just sit and wish to dance with Her Love, which I should know is my father. I've searched and searched for my father's name. Nothing. It seems like he's never existed! I've asked all of my mom's friends about my father. They only laughed and said, "You know, I think that Jane got stupid is all. You're just a mistake."
I hate her friends... I'm not a mistake! There's no way! I have to have a good loving father. I just need to find him. Goodness I've been so desperate to even ask my Grandma. When I asked her though, she turned red with anger and yelled and cursed with a profanity that I can never understand: See I don't ask her things?
Anyway, please give me word of my father. Who he might be and if he's with Mother.
From a much older fan of yours
Winston Bartly,
P.S. Sorry about the hate letter. I really don't hate you.
I knew then that I didn't really hate you. But of course I 'm stubborn and I'd been lying to myself that I still hated you. Day after day I told myself that you're awful, and you made my own mother hate me (Don't be too bashful, I'm still angry about that). But then I would remember my mother's face and realize that she at least loves yo.
As long as my mother has someone to love, I'll be okay. By the way, I must know, did you take my father? Can you possibly tell me if he and mother dance together now? Mom's always wanted that. She'd just sit and wish to dance with Her Love, which I should know is my father. I've searched and searched for my father's name. Nothing. It seems like he's never existed! I've asked all of my mom's friends about my father. They only laughed and said, "You know, I think that Jane got stupid is all. You're just a mistake."
I hate her friends... I'm not a mistake! There's no way! I have to have a good loving father. I just need to find him. Goodness I've been so desperate to even ask my Grandma. When I asked her though, she turned red with anger and yelled and cursed with a profanity that I can never understand: See I don't ask her things?
Anyway, please give me word of my father. Who he might be and if he's with Mother.
From a much older fan of yours
Winston Bartly,
P.S. Sorry about the hate letter. I really don't hate you.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Guitar Rockin' Angel
Dear Death,
It has been three years since I turned away from home and came down to Earth. The last and only thing I grabbed was my guitar. I was flat broke, having no idea what money was. The inventions mankind has come up with are too complicated! I mean, what's with these cell phone things, and stoplights! I don't even understand their purpose most of the time. I just wanted to play music. If only Papa wasn't so against it! First it was the noise, then it was the look of the 'instrument'. Papa never called my guitar by its proper name. It was always, 'that thing', like it was something nasty to be stepped in. Why couldn't he just be happy for me when my uncle came back from his Earth trips with souvenirs, and thought of me? I love the thing! Uncle would tell me stories of Earth music, and I would be bound by them. I never stopped practicing. It was when uncle told me I was good enough to be in an Earth band, that I popped the question to Papa if I could go down there. And OH!, was he against it. His face immediately transformed into that of a ghoul or goblin. When I was a kid, it terrified me when he did that, but at that moment I was more angry than anything frightening he could do to me. We had a bad row, and at the end of it he locked me in my room. Well, I was steaming with indignation, and his complete refusal had only made me more determined. So I swung my guitar on my back, and snuck out the window. My friend, a giant albatross flew me fast and gentle over the sea below our home to Earth land. I won't forget his kindness on that. It was taking quite a risk, disobeying Papa.
It wasn't good for me straight off. I starved for a few weeks, living on the streets, and almost got picked up by some strange guys! I was scared for my life. Why is Earth so entirely hard and frightening to live in? But I was also amazed. That's the one reason I didn't go home crying and exhausted. I had never left the boundaries of my limited cloud home, and it was so beautiful, everything about it! The rain and snow and grass and trees and people and animals and birds and buildings and the food! We only ever ate windbounds that the cook would spin up once in a while, so I was crying the first time I ever ate a white wheat roll. It was Spinner who gave it to me. I owe a lot to him. He's the one who found me playing a lament by myself out of hunger and introduced me to a group of beautiful ladies who taught me how to play the guitar even better! They also let me stay there and eat their food! I always thanked him when I saw him, but he always went red a little, and just waved it off as "I was just a bit interested in you," and stomped off. Humans have so many interesting faces!
It was September last year when Spinner brought a few of his guy friends over for dinner. They were from a band, and they caught my interest as that was what I wanted to do. When I told them I could play too, at first they didn't believe me, so I got up and proved it to them! Gil liked it so much that he let me into a trial run with his band for the Halloween songs they were going to perform in October. I think Spinner was against it, but it's what I wanted to do. And we rocked that performance! I was singing and dancing, and rockin', and as happy as I had ever been in my life. It's also when I saw you.
Call it love at first sight, maybe. I saw you at the end of the last song, a shadow in the back. You immediately peaked my interest, and after wrapping up, I ran outside to look for you. I've heard about it from Uncle, that you are responsible for separating soul from body, and that we are to lead them up again to where they would then live. That Death and Angels had a very tight understanding; that we would each stay in the realms of our own jobs, and not get any more involved with each other than necessary. I heard that, and I feel a little sorry for you. We have many angels, so our job is easy, but there is only one of you. You're always on the move, never resting. I saw you floating down a ways, with no one to see you but myself when I arrived outside the doors. When I chased after, you turned around and stopped to face me. With myself panting and not thinking straight, the only thing I could ask was, "How was the performance?" You blinked, and with an impenetrable face said nothing. Since I was desperate, I was a little angry. "Why did you come if you didn't like it?" I said, trembling.
You looked at me a bit, head cocked to one side. I was about to give up and leave when you finally replied,
"because I was interested in you."
When I turned around, you were already vanished.
I don't know if you know how your words affected me, but dang(!) it made me blush. Somehow it was different from Spinners words. I've searched for you ever since then, a bit like an obsessed stalker. I would arrive at different scenes, only to see you vanishing again. It made me angry, but as determined as ever. I made the concert trial, and was officially into Gil's band. This made me as happy as ever, but without you it made it seem insignificant, and I was left feeling unsatisfied. I cursed you, I worshiped you, I acted out imaginary scenes between you and I, feeling as embarrassed as ever when I snapped out of it and realized how entirely girly I was being. But I can't help it. Somehow when I think of you, I become a different person. I hear your name and run.
So...I was thinking. Since you're alone in your job, and that leaves me never being able to see you, could it be possible that you would let me work along side you? I would be a good help, trust me! I'm not bothered by the separating of body and soul the least! I just....
I love you.
Please at least consider it.
Sincerely,
Angella;
The Guitar Rockin' Angel
It has been three years since I turned away from home and came down to Earth. The last and only thing I grabbed was my guitar. I was flat broke, having no idea what money was. The inventions mankind has come up with are too complicated! I mean, what's with these cell phone things, and stoplights! I don't even understand their purpose most of the time. I just wanted to play music. If only Papa wasn't so against it! First it was the noise, then it was the look of the 'instrument'. Papa never called my guitar by its proper name. It was always, 'that thing', like it was something nasty to be stepped in. Why couldn't he just be happy for me when my uncle came back from his Earth trips with souvenirs, and thought of me? I love the thing! Uncle would tell me stories of Earth music, and I would be bound by them. I never stopped practicing. It was when uncle told me I was good enough to be in an Earth band, that I popped the question to Papa if I could go down there. And OH!, was he against it. His face immediately transformed into that of a ghoul or goblin. When I was a kid, it terrified me when he did that, but at that moment I was more angry than anything frightening he could do to me. We had a bad row, and at the end of it he locked me in my room. Well, I was steaming with indignation, and his complete refusal had only made me more determined. So I swung my guitar on my back, and snuck out the window. My friend, a giant albatross flew me fast and gentle over the sea below our home to Earth land. I won't forget his kindness on that. It was taking quite a risk, disobeying Papa.
It wasn't good for me straight off. I starved for a few weeks, living on the streets, and almost got picked up by some strange guys! I was scared for my life. Why is Earth so entirely hard and frightening to live in? But I was also amazed. That's the one reason I didn't go home crying and exhausted. I had never left the boundaries of my limited cloud home, and it was so beautiful, everything about it! The rain and snow and grass and trees and people and animals and birds and buildings and the food! We only ever ate windbounds that the cook would spin up once in a while, so I was crying the first time I ever ate a white wheat roll. It was Spinner who gave it to me. I owe a lot to him. He's the one who found me playing a lament by myself out of hunger and introduced me to a group of beautiful ladies who taught me how to play the guitar even better! They also let me stay there and eat their food! I always thanked him when I saw him, but he always went red a little, and just waved it off as "I was just a bit interested in you," and stomped off. Humans have so many interesting faces!
It was September last year when Spinner brought a few of his guy friends over for dinner. They were from a band, and they caught my interest as that was what I wanted to do. When I told them I could play too, at first they didn't believe me, so I got up and proved it to them! Gil liked it so much that he let me into a trial run with his band for the Halloween songs they were going to perform in October. I think Spinner was against it, but it's what I wanted to do. And we rocked that performance! I was singing and dancing, and rockin', and as happy as I had ever been in my life. It's also when I saw you.
Call it love at first sight, maybe. I saw you at the end of the last song, a shadow in the back. You immediately peaked my interest, and after wrapping up, I ran outside to look for you. I've heard about it from Uncle, that you are responsible for separating soul from body, and that we are to lead them up again to where they would then live. That Death and Angels had a very tight understanding; that we would each stay in the realms of our own jobs, and not get any more involved with each other than necessary. I heard that, and I feel a little sorry for you. We have many angels, so our job is easy, but there is only one of you. You're always on the move, never resting. I saw you floating down a ways, with no one to see you but myself when I arrived outside the doors. When I chased after, you turned around and stopped to face me. With myself panting and not thinking straight, the only thing I could ask was, "How was the performance?" You blinked, and with an impenetrable face said nothing. Since I was desperate, I was a little angry. "Why did you come if you didn't like it?" I said, trembling.
You looked at me a bit, head cocked to one side. I was about to give up and leave when you finally replied,
"because I was interested in you."
When I turned around, you were already vanished.
I don't know if you know how your words affected me, but dang(!) it made me blush. Somehow it was different from Spinners words. I've searched for you ever since then, a bit like an obsessed stalker. I would arrive at different scenes, only to see you vanishing again. It made me angry, but as determined as ever. I made the concert trial, and was officially into Gil's band. This made me as happy as ever, but without you it made it seem insignificant, and I was left feeling unsatisfied. I cursed you, I worshiped you, I acted out imaginary scenes between you and I, feeling as embarrassed as ever when I snapped out of it and realized how entirely girly I was being. But I can't help it. Somehow when I think of you, I become a different person. I hear your name and run.
So...I was thinking. Since you're alone in your job, and that leaves me never being able to see you, could it be possible that you would let me work along side you? I would be a good help, trust me! I'm not bothered by the separating of body and soul the least! I just....
I love you.
Please at least consider it.
Sincerely,
Angella;
The Guitar Rockin' Angel
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Corpse Eater
Dear Beloved,
I have bad habits.
I will not lie.
I was a mere child suffering from starvation, alone with my older sister. Abandoned by our parents because of the bad economy that had come with the war, we scavenged the desolate landscape for any sort of food. We ate the abominations of mankind, the very lowest of civilization. Every day our fingers bled for digging the dirt for roots. The other orphans and abandoned children were no better; often times we resorted to violence for only a crumb of bread. We were no longer considered humans among the adults who sniffed their faces the other way. No doubt if I hadn't had my sister, I would've died, or gone insane. We nibbled the bones of rat carcass found in a garbage alley, slept near corpses of children our own age. We lived on despite the troubles. But one day a gang found us in an alleyway. my sister was beaten to death, covering me with her body to protect me.
I slept near my sisters corpse for days, too distraught to do anything to search for food. It would've been a useless attempt, even if I did get up. In a few days I was ill, and felt myself on the bridge of death. I could no longer stand nor crawl. I stared at my sisters cloudy eyes, the scent of rot in my nostrils. Flies buzzed over her, and maggots crawled in her open mouth. I thought of her death, and I finally realized she didn't want me to die. She had given her life for me. And I would do anything to honor her wishes. In her death she had given me one final gift. I reached over and wrung her pinky finger in my mouth, first sucking, and then chewing with the salty taste of my own tears. I lived.
After the war was over, the king happened to pass by and see me. He took an uncommon liking in me and put me in a high position. I lived a life of comfort. My days were spent in vain lavishness and the repetition of eating high quality food. But I never got the taste of my sister out of my mouth. It haunted me day and night, even giving me nightmares with the urgings to eat it again.
One day I couldn't stand it any longer. I paid a gravedigger to upend a coffin recently buried. The dead lying there was a child; barely five or six. I trembled as I took its arm and ate. And as I ate my fill of the curious taste, I was filled with an unbearable emptiness. A hole had grown inside me with every bite I swallowed. The war had reduced my life to something less than human, but this time I had severed every connection to being human myself. With my own hands.
I have paid the gravedigger 27 times since then. My obsession with human flesh is growing. I can't stop it any longer. But each time I eat, my emptiness grows, and I am filled with laughter. It bubbles up inside somewhere deep inside the crevices of my skin, and overflows with memory.
Shall we toast?
To my sister.
Whom I love.
I have bad habits.
I will not lie.
I was a mere child suffering from starvation, alone with my older sister. Abandoned by our parents because of the bad economy that had come with the war, we scavenged the desolate landscape for any sort of food. We ate the abominations of mankind, the very lowest of civilization. Every day our fingers bled for digging the dirt for roots. The other orphans and abandoned children were no better; often times we resorted to violence for only a crumb of bread. We were no longer considered humans among the adults who sniffed their faces the other way. No doubt if I hadn't had my sister, I would've died, or gone insane. We nibbled the bones of rat carcass found in a garbage alley, slept near corpses of children our own age. We lived on despite the troubles. But one day a gang found us in an alleyway. my sister was beaten to death, covering me with her body to protect me.
I slept near my sisters corpse for days, too distraught to do anything to search for food. It would've been a useless attempt, even if I did get up. In a few days I was ill, and felt myself on the bridge of death. I could no longer stand nor crawl. I stared at my sisters cloudy eyes, the scent of rot in my nostrils. Flies buzzed over her, and maggots crawled in her open mouth. I thought of her death, and I finally realized she didn't want me to die. She had given her life for me. And I would do anything to honor her wishes. In her death she had given me one final gift. I reached over and wrung her pinky finger in my mouth, first sucking, and then chewing with the salty taste of my own tears. I lived.
After the war was over, the king happened to pass by and see me. He took an uncommon liking in me and put me in a high position. I lived a life of comfort. My days were spent in vain lavishness and the repetition of eating high quality food. But I never got the taste of my sister out of my mouth. It haunted me day and night, even giving me nightmares with the urgings to eat it again.
One day I couldn't stand it any longer. I paid a gravedigger to upend a coffin recently buried. The dead lying there was a child; barely five or six. I trembled as I took its arm and ate. And as I ate my fill of the curious taste, I was filled with an unbearable emptiness. A hole had grown inside me with every bite I swallowed. The war had reduced my life to something less than human, but this time I had severed every connection to being human myself. With my own hands.
I have paid the gravedigger 27 times since then. My obsession with human flesh is growing. I can't stop it any longer. But each time I eat, my emptiness grows, and I am filled with laughter. It bubbles up inside somewhere deep inside the crevices of my skin, and overflows with memory.
Shall we toast?
To my sister.
Whom I love.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
From the Reaches of The Universe, Mr. Shadow
Dear Shadow,
I've come a long ways from the farthest reaches of the universe. My mother and father kicked me out of the house, and since I was stubborn, I decided to leave my dusty gray-haired planet behind and seek out my fortune to find a world more beautiful than that one. I have traveled for more than a millennium in my light-year boots, stopping at even a remotely beautiful planet. You cannot count the amount of times I've been disappointed. Almost every one is inhabitable and as dusty as my home planet. Even the ones that have life are either boring or overused, and the neighbors that aren't stupid and crawl around on their bellies find me as a threat. They come at me with native spears, or with their advanced beam weapons that blow a small village to the other side of the galaxy, and that's only if I ask for a mug of morning grub jub! I was sick and tired of searching, and was planning on going home when I got sucked into a black hole. Now I'm usually pretty apt at avoiding those, but at that moment I was being chased by the inhabitants of Georidm riding on their space snailhorses, so I was sort-of distracted. Who could blame me? If they catch you, they dance around a fire with your head on a stick! But I suppose that was the least of my problems.
It was a funny feeling to be stretched into absolute nothingness. I went in feet first, and could hear myself crunching in on itself with all the pressure, but I didn't feel any pain. My body wrangled itself into strange shapes, and then began to be pulled apart. I don't remember thinking at all.
When I got out on the other side, I was in the most beautiful world I could possibly imagine. I was at the bottom of the ocean of Black, and it was filled with a city full of glowing ember lights. You never get tired there. I could run forever if I wanted to. Everything you imagine comes true. You can travel the 9 major dimensions without ever leaving your room. I was in ecstasy. When I first arrived, there was a dancing party going around the Midnight Clock platform. A strange looking, but joyful person flighted past, and told me to jump in. I didn't need a second invitation, and practically ran into dancing by myself at the center of the clock. And then I saw you. It was in the middle of the second song, I believe, and you knelt down to me in your shadow robes that reflected all the city embers, and asked me gently if I would accompany you in a waltz. I was much to excited to care about proper etiquette of the rules of blushing/ being shy and so forth, and simply pulled you up and led you around in a blurry twirl. I think you were surprised at first, but you laughed heartily with me the whole time. When I asked your name, you looked a little sad, but looked up into my eyes and told me it was Shadow. Near the end of Midnight, the dancing partners started walking off by themselves, and the place started to be cold. Before you left, you left me your hood to warm me up. It was only later that I realized where my true world laid. I suppose I'm still chasing after it. Don't you want your hood back?
-Admil
I've come a long ways from the farthest reaches of the universe. My mother and father kicked me out of the house, and since I was stubborn, I decided to leave my dusty gray-haired planet behind and seek out my fortune to find a world more beautiful than that one. I have traveled for more than a millennium in my light-year boots, stopping at even a remotely beautiful planet. You cannot count the amount of times I've been disappointed. Almost every one is inhabitable and as dusty as my home planet. Even the ones that have life are either boring or overused, and the neighbors that aren't stupid and crawl around on their bellies find me as a threat. They come at me with native spears, or with their advanced beam weapons that blow a small village to the other side of the galaxy, and that's only if I ask for a mug of morning grub jub! I was sick and tired of searching, and was planning on going home when I got sucked into a black hole. Now I'm usually pretty apt at avoiding those, but at that moment I was being chased by the inhabitants of Georidm riding on their space snailhorses, so I was sort-of distracted. Who could blame me? If they catch you, they dance around a fire with your head on a stick! But I suppose that was the least of my problems.
It was a funny feeling to be stretched into absolute nothingness. I went in feet first, and could hear myself crunching in on itself with all the pressure, but I didn't feel any pain. My body wrangled itself into strange shapes, and then began to be pulled apart. I don't remember thinking at all.
When I got out on the other side, I was in the most beautiful world I could possibly imagine. I was at the bottom of the ocean of Black, and it was filled with a city full of glowing ember lights. You never get tired there. I could run forever if I wanted to. Everything you imagine comes true. You can travel the 9 major dimensions without ever leaving your room. I was in ecstasy. When I first arrived, there was a dancing party going around the Midnight Clock platform. A strange looking, but joyful person flighted past, and told me to jump in. I didn't need a second invitation, and practically ran into dancing by myself at the center of the clock. And then I saw you. It was in the middle of the second song, I believe, and you knelt down to me in your shadow robes that reflected all the city embers, and asked me gently if I would accompany you in a waltz. I was much to excited to care about proper etiquette of the rules of blushing/ being shy and so forth, and simply pulled you up and led you around in a blurry twirl. I think you were surprised at first, but you laughed heartily with me the whole time. When I asked your name, you looked a little sad, but looked up into my eyes and told me it was Shadow. Near the end of Midnight, the dancing partners started walking off by themselves, and the place started to be cold. Before you left, you left me your hood to warm me up. It was only later that I realized where my true world laid. I suppose I'm still chasing after it. Don't you want your hood back?
-Admil
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