The Storm

So, NaNoWriMo starts in like five days. And while you’re not supposed to start writing before then, I had this really powerful scene in my head that I wanted to write down before I forgot it. So, at 1500 words, here is the first three pages of my NaNoWriMo story.

I haven’t quite decided on a title for it–right now I’m just calling it “The Storm” and once you read the opening, you’ll understand why. But basically, it’s about a girl who endures one of the lowest moments of her life and then fights to pick herself back up and put her life back together after that. I haven’t quite decided on the firm details of the plot–I just started writing and said fuck it to outlines–but I’m kind of liking the imagery in this.

Fair warning, there are some dark elements to this piece, so if any brief mentions of suicidal thoughts triggers you, please don’t read this.

Otherwise, I hope this isn’t complete crap. It’s the first time I’ve really written something in …….. Um. A very long while. Let’s just go with that.

We Lie

We lie to our friends,

And say we’re over it.

We lie to our exes,

And say we don’t need them anymore.

We lie to the newcomers,

And say there’s nothing wrong.

And to ourselves,

We lie most of all,

And say that we don’t need anyone else.

I did a thing?

So. I have been working nonstop on a magazine to send to potential employers for graphic design jobs. I figured one of the things I should probably advertise is my writing. Well. I created an ad for it and this was the result.

No More Halos, Please. I’m Only Human.

I never wanted to be put on a pedestal,

Lofted so high off the ground,

That the world below becomes a blur.

And yet my iron throne was built,

On my painfully clean childhood,

Where my only adventures consisted,

Of riding horses and spending time with family,

With no experimentation of any kind.

Friends and acquaintances alike,

Mistake my lack of interest in booze and drugs,

As a sign of angelic wings,

Forcing the feathery burden upon my back,

And using it as an excuse not to talk to me.

Lovers shy away from my forgiving nature,

Instead elevating me to a height so dizzying,

I have no choice but to fall,

Tarnishing my forced upon halo as I break across the hard ground,

Left to glue myself back together,

When they realize I’m merely human.

I am not a saint.

Nor an angel or a god,

But a young woman,

Who has many flaws and imperfections,

With feelings and emotions just as real as those around me,

Someone who wants to love and be loved,

Not spoken of in reverent voices,

By those terrified of what I’ll say or do if they screw up.

But instead, I am enshrined,

Locked away in a faraway tower,

Only allowed to come out,

When someone is in need of saving,

And then immediately hidden away again,

The second the act is done.

Because god forbid I get drunk,

Or have sex,

Or anything resembling bad.

Surely, the apocalypse would happen,

Complete with the four horsemen and end of days,

If I weren’t a saint,

But instead viewed as what I really am,

Which is to say,

Only human.

Understanding

Perhaps it was arrogant for her to believe,

While watching the one she once loved,

Destroy yet another,

That she understood why God did not interfere.

It wasn’t cruelty or indifference,

Or even hatred,

That caused his aloofness. 

But sadness,

Deep and profound,

Ripping apart every good feeling,

For like God,

She had once,

Put all of her hopes and dreams,

On the shoulders of man,

Only to have them broken,

Shattered into dust.

And while she managed to find,

The strength to keep going,

Something inside of her,

Still broke,

When he continued on his destructive path.

And while she longed to help him,

To save him from himself,

She couldn’t.

Because he had made his own choices,

Wrote his own destiny,

And now,

Like everyone else,

He had to live with those choices.

And she had to learn,

How to abstain

Or she would be broken,

All over again.

Left to Rot

Whispered pleas

Falling on deaf ears

Cold chains

Ripping at fragile skin

Bruised feet

Stumbling on icy ground

Torn nails 

Clawing at steadfast shackles.

I do not deserve imprisonment,

Yet you locked me in your dungeon,

And threw away the key

Welding the iron bars that form my cage shut

With lustful promises and heartfelt confessions,

Using my compassion against me,

Blinding me with hope,

Until it was too late to run.

The bars of my entrapment

Are windows to only pain,

As you move into the light with another,

Leaving me dark and cold,

Wondering how this could be.

I ask you to let me go,

Half-heartedly,

Uncertain whether I truly want you gone

For I cared for you once,

And thought you did for me.

You brush away my pleas,

Tossing careless promises like breadcrumbs,

Which I greedily inhale,

Starved for affection of any kind.

You laugh at my desperation,

Scorn me behind my back,

Leaving me to rot,

Hoping that one day you’ll change your mind,

And release me from this hell,

But you never do.

Day by day,

My resolve grows stronger,

And I demand you let me go.

Almost mockingly,

You don a confused look,

Asking if I were so unhappy,

Why didn’t I just leave?

My lungs fill with acid,

Heart beats twisting painfully,

I sink to my knees,

Stunned and horrified

When I realize

That these bars and chains

Are invisible to you,

And that you no longer care,

Whether I stay or go.

A prison of my own making,

Yet I can’t seem to find a key,

Or the door to release me from my fate.

You stare at me through the bars,

Like you would an abused animal.

To stengthen the metaphor,

I snarl,

Suddenly feral,

And leap at you.

But the bars and chains you created,

Stop me short,

And I am once more on my knees,

As you disappear,

Frightened of what you’ve created,

And unable to deal with the consequences,

Never to return,

And once more,

Leaving me to rot.

“You’re Too Quiet”

You ask me why I’m quiet,

Eyes searching for hidden meanings,

A dark past that will make all my pieces fit

Together like a jigsaw puzzle,

Sadness darkening your expression,

When I don’t reply with a story of a broken heart,

But instead with a tale of a tired present,

And exhausted future.

I’m quiet,

Because I’m waiting for all of this to end,

For the other shoe to drop,

And for you to leave,

Like so many others.

Because my heart still races,

Every time your name lights up my phone,

And your stupid antics still make me laugh,

Your smile makes me melt,

And I hate it,

Knowing that it’ll soon be gone.

I pull away from you,

And your friends,

Choosing silence and solitude,

Over getting too close and then having it ripped away,

Forcefully,

When you walk out that door.

You think me cold and aloof,

Snobby and pretentious at times,

When in reality,

I’m only doing what I can

Because people always leave,

And you are no exception,

So it’s better to be alone now,

Than deal with a broken heart later.

You Were Smarter As A Fifth Grader

She was ten,

Far too young to know a thing about love,

Watching the boy with the crooked smile

Charm girl after girl

Mercilessly breaking their hearts

In a way only fifth grade boys could.

He turned that smile on her,

And she smacked him,

Saying “don’t you dare fall for me.”

His smile stiffened,

But he said okay,

And they ran hand in hand down the hallway.

She was eighteen,

Eager to be out on her own and fall in love,

Ignoring the warning bells in her head,

As a boy with a crooked smile,

Turned his gaze on her.

Fall for me, she asked,

Hoping vainly for something,

She instinctively knew wouldn’t work.

His smile grew,

And for a while,

It seemed that maybe it was love.

But she second guessed herself too much

And he too easily charmed another,

So with sadness in her eyes,

She said “let me go,”

He said okay,

And they parted ways.

Quotes from the Part Time Insomniac

Because the universe is a vast and lonely place and sometimes you need someone to make you feel less alone.

Obsidian City Chapter Blurb (In which, I am dabbling with some stuff and just need to post it somewhere)

The night was alive with an intensity Maggie never felt before. The air itself seemed to vibrate with anticipation as she hurried after Kristy’s long strides. Brilliant flood lights illuminated the dark violet sky, drawing every soul within miles to their source.

A long, rectangular building appeared. Its black crystal walls were hidden behind a throng of people that wrapped itself around the block.

Maggie paused, her mouth agape. It really seemed as though all of humanity had shown up here tonight.

People of all ages, genders, and ethnicities were in line. Some were dressed in similar fashion to Maggie, with skin-tight jeans, patched vests and jackets thrown over v-neck shirts, and heavy combat boots with hair wild in color and spiked into brilliant mohawks. Others were dressed in fancy dresses and suits, with glittering silver pieces dangling from their wrists and ears. Others still were in neat, carefully pressed military uniforms, while the mass majority were wearing ratty jeans and holey t-shirts, barefoot.

Kristy sensed Maggie was no longer following her and turned back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked in a throaty voice. “All of these people, being together in one place.”

Maggie could only nod, speechless at the sight. It was miraculous, seeing all of the different types of stereotypes together, blending effortlessly with one another, like it didn’t matter if one guy was black or another was poor. They were all being friendly, too. The block was alive with happy chatter as everyone eagerly awaited to be let into the building.

Recovering slightly, she said, “I thought Victory didn’t allow people through the gates?”

Because there were obviously some people who didn’t fit Victory’s bill of rich or white. Some looked as though they had just crawled out of the depths of the earth, covered in dirt and God knew what else.

Kristy grimaced. “Tonight is different,” she replied, her voice taut. Before Maggie could ask, the prostitute took her by the arm. “Come. Aaron is waiting for us.”