Poem 1: Little Words (so much teenage angst)

Am I just another girl to you?
Do you even care?
These little conversations between us

Confusing me
Uplifting you

Just saying words
You stand as I fall down into that pit of you
I thought I had filled it
But it was a trap

I want to say how much I care
But where are the words
So I just laugh
And you smile that perfect smile
For a moment I wonder if you have fallen too

The smile fades
I soak in our little words
Are they nothing?

I'll never know
I just sit here in my room and think of you
Hoping that you think of me too.

Freewrite 1

Isn't it frustrating when you have a really great day and then one minuscule thing ruins it completely. I try really hard to be a compassionate person. Whenever I do something right though, something else just flies into my face and blocks out everything, forcing me to completely focus on the negative. Then I just get so worked up about it and my entire day is in the trash.
I really am not a violent person. I just get so angry sometimes. Some days I can control it, but others... The other day I literally almost punched one of my good friends in the face, and why? Because she said "You're stupid."
Simple, but so very aggravating. I understand that some days I have my blond moments, don't we all? But if you straight up say that I'm stupid, I will become very angry and imagine myself killing you in many different ways in my mind. That's my therapy I guess.
I really hate being so angry, because it pushes people away. It pushed my brothers away, and now I barely know them.
People push me too far. They don't undertstand that I'm a ticking time bomb I guess.

A Short Story Entitled Moving Forward

Moving Forward

            My mind wanders. I have no idea of where I am going. My feet ache as they strike the dusty road. Tears stain my eyes. How did I get to this barren place? My heart aches. Why did he have to touch her? My father had to hurt her, my little sister, the only person in this world that I truly loved. We had an agreement and he smashed it into pieces. I was great at hiding my true hatred, but he had to hurt her. When he had beaten me, I felt nothing and I never cared. I didn’t care about what happened to me, I knew how to handle it, but she was just a kid. She was only ten for Christ’s sake! I begged that the day would never come, but he did it, he slammed her head against a table. The blood was everywhere when I came into the dining room, and what did I do next? I ran. I ran away, and here I am, in the middle of nowhere, alone.

            I remember when I could feel. I had good and bad days, I would laugh and cry, sometimes I even shouted. But now what was I? I am cold, unfeeling to the rest of the world, alien even. My father punched and kicked and threw that girl out the window. I had more hatred in my bones than marrow. I was nothing but the hard outer shell of the girl I once was. The sobs coming out of me had now stopped, and so had my feet. I compose myself enough to sip in some more air in order to return to my escape. I look in front of me and see only the barren road. I didn’t dare to look back. My past was gone now, I had to keep on running. As soon as I do, however, I feel a blow to the back of my head. My vision blurs, and I feel dizzy. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. I fall to the dusty ground and I no longer see the road that was once in front of me.

            When I wake up, I am in a small, dark room. There is a man in a brown cloak blocking the only door. I am bound to a large table and surrounded by leaves, candles, and a plethora of scents. My eyes began to water, my senses were always very sensitive. I make no sound. I remember the times when my father would lock me in the basement with him so he could hurt me. I had to learn to cooperate, that was the only way he would stop, that was the only way to stay alive. If I whined or cried, he would hit me harder. Noises aggravated him, and I had to assume that they annoyed these men as well. My father never wanted me to hate him, he wanted me to love him, and when I showed that I didn’t he would hurt me, he didn’t understand. These men don’t understand either. If you don’t cooperate, you die. By cooperating I have lived through him throwing me off the roof three times, him choking me out ten times, and five broken bones. I’m positive that cooperation will help me in this situation as well.

            I look around again, trying to register where I am. Despite a thick layer of smoke surrounding me, I see some dark green, dew covered grass. Grass is good, this means I am not in a building but a hut or tent of some kind. Grass gives me a sense of freedom, I was in the open, not locked in, there was earth right under me. This freedom flame I felt was snuffed out by the sound of footsteps crushing the grass. I froze. My eyes were up on the ceiling and I pretended I was invisible. I heard every haunting step that was made on that thick layer of grass. My heart skipped a beat. Finally the footsteps stopped at my bedside. A man's face was staring at me from the side. He had a faint scar on his neck, like a brand on cattle. Other men in brown cloaks filed in surrounding my table, all having the same brand upon their skin. All of the men were speaking in a foreign language above me, and I stayed frozen on the table, a cadaver waiting for dissection. My eyes widened in surprise as I heard one of the speaking English. “Don't try to escape, we will have you killed if you do. You are ours now.” he said. I laid as motionless before, waiting for the serenity of sleep to overwhelm me again. I just wanted to cooperate, cooperation is key.

            I woke up the next day in open air. The tent with the smoke was gone, now I was in a wooden prison, wearing a white dress. I didn't think about how the dress was put on, you never dwell on those small things, all I was doing was looking toward the next thing, what would happen next? I laid still on the floor, waiting to be told what to do, how I could cooperate for them. Cooperation is key. They opened up the door to my cage and picked me up by my hands and feet,carrying me to my next stop. As they walked, I looked behind them, my long dark hair entangling with the thick, dew covered grass. It seemed like the earth was trying to claim me, and save me from these men, however, I knew that no salvation was coming for me.

            We arrived at our destination, and the men dropped my body onto the ground. When I hit the ground, I let out a small cry of pain, but then I quieted myself, pain is not cooperating, pain is aggravating. I turned my throbbing head to the side to see what was happening, but all I saw was a formation of five sticks, one in front, two crossed in an x behind it, and two more in an x about four feet away. The sticks were all the same height at about six feet in the air, and I knew what I was up against now. That was an altar, I was about to be sacrificed.

            The two men that had carried me before were commanded by a man with a book to pick me up again. The book he held had an engraving of the same symbol that all of the men that surrounded me in the tent had on their necks. Before I could see any more, the men picked me up and placed me on top of the altar. The lone stick pierced my back and I took in a sharp breath. The pain was unbearable. I tried to cooperate, I tried to keep the tears back, but the pain was too much. I drank in another breath and screamed with all of me. Storm clouds rolled in above my head, and I wished they would sweep me up with them. My scream began to fade out as I took what I hoped was my last breath, and I screamed even louder. For the first time, I didn't care about cooperation. All of the terrible things that had happened to me came rushing back to me, and finally I saw his face. My father, as I saw it, my scream stopped and the storm finally started, a bolt of lightning struck my heart, every part of me jolted up, and I was lifted off of the altar. My feet struck the earth, and it seemed to welcome me, softening the blow. I looked up with eyes blazing and the men in cloaks tried to run, but I was faster. Whatever happened to me during that storm changed me, and I didn't have to cooperate anymore, they did. I ran up, grabbed two cloaks, lifted them up, and slammed them back into the earth all in one sweep of my hands. I proceeded to do this to all of the men in cloaks except one, the translator.

“Don't hurt me!” he pleaded. I chuckled under my breath.

“Stop babbling and answer me one question.” I demanded. “What were you trying to do to me?”

“We were making a sacrifice to Belheth, goddess of power. We needed a woman your age, and you were alone on the road, but something must have been protecting you, because Belheth never lets anyone go.” he cried. He kept pleading for me to let him go, but I was not about to have someone I have to worry about behind me, so I killed him like the others and started my journey home. I was going to pay a little visit to my father.

            I walked along the dusty road that only a day ago I was sobbing beside. In one day, so much had changed. I thought about what the translator said to me. Someone must have been protecting me, but who? I looked up into the sky. It had just been so dark, and now the sun shone more bright than ever. It was a new day, and I no longer needed to hide in the shadows from him. I was ready to confront him, he needed to feel all of the pain and heartache that I had felt because of him.

            Eventually I arrived at the house that once was a home to me. No one seemed to be home, so I let myself in and sat on the couch. I looked around and the hauntingly familiar place flooded my brain with memories. It was a very masculine house, despite the three women living there. Father thought that if the house looked the way we wanted, we would want control of everything. The first black eye he gave me was because of a portrait I drew in first grade and put up on the refrigerator. He called it tacky and threw me to the floor, throwing the picture in the fire place. I cried myself to sleep that night. I shook the thoughts out of my head and try to forget those dark days. This was a new day, the day that monster dies.

            Finally, I heard the door handle turn, someone was home. My father flung the door open and set his briefcase down. He looked up from the ground and stared into my eyes, awestruck.

“Hello Father.” I said, my face blank again. He lurched forward growling and grabbed for my throat, but I quickly swatted his hands away, flinging him into the coffee table. He laid there grumbling, and I picked him up chuckling. I put his cheeks in my palms and said, “Welcome to my world.” with that I snapped his neck.

            Suddenly, I flew back into the door, unable to move. I look around, wondering what could have done such a thing, and see the one person that I never thought I would see again, my sister, alive and well, not even a scratch on her. “You do understand that you were chosen for a reason right! You can't just go around killing people whenever you want you know.” she shouted. 

“What!?! How are you?” I stammered.

“Sweetie, we are more powerful than you could ever believe, no mere human could kill us!”

“We aren't human?”

“Oh no, we are much better darling, much better, we are the protectors of this world, we are Enchantresses, or as the humans like to say, witches.” she said,and then everything started making a lot more sense.