Author: beautifulcreatures96

You and Me

It’s hard to be away from the person

Who holds your heart.

The pain you feel

When they have leave.

 

 

We sit in the darkness

But I know you’re smiling.

When I touch your soft skin

And tap your little nose.

 

When I hold your hand,

You squeeze it so tight.

You kiss it and look at me with

Your big beautiful blue eyes.

 

When you tell me things,

It makes me happy inside

Because they are things

You’ll have only told me.

 

When I do something silly,

You just laugh or giggle.

The sound reminds me that

I do bring you happiness.

 

Today we will not see each other

But we don’t have too

Because I know I will see you soon.

Hope is all I need.

 

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The Fire Within Part 2

I was tripping over myself as I ran down the corridor, looking behind me every so often. When I was outside in the warm summer air, my eyes searched for Cal while my mind raced about who the hell this psycho was that had just tried to kill me. There he was sitting alone under a large oak tree, reading some physics book. His tanned skin against  his blonde hair made it look golden even in the shade of the tree. I rushed over, by the time I was standing in front of him, my breathing was heavy and I could feel the sweat running down my forehead. He looked at me; his eyebrows raised and then placed the book aside.

“What is it now? Did Mr Keegan try to give you extra work again?” he asked, rummaging in his backpack.

“No nothing like that. Look this crazy girl or boy not sure to be honest just tried to kill me” I gabbled looking at him intensely.

“Look Lia I know you think this place is weird, we all do. I mean people just don’t suddenly take you away to a place like this and it not turn out to be weird. Seriously though we have been here for two years and it seems pretty ordinary. You want my opinion I think its good here; we have nice bedrooms and tasty food so I don’t understand what your problem is. You always want it to be something else, like in movies where we are all actually aliens or something and they want to do tests on us. ” he said, pulling out an apple from his bag.

“No listen to me this person pulled off the door in the bathroom and tried to kill me. You’re going to think I am crazy but something strange happened to me, fire I am not kidding just came from my skin and went onto the man or woman. I ran away but I think they’re dead”

He stood up to face me, still holding his apple “Show me then, show me this burnt body of some woman or man that you think you murdered”

“I just ran away from there, I don’t want to go back Cal what if they are dead and it’s entirely my fault.”

“Seriously Lia you just don’t want to go because this is all bulls**t” he said taking a bite out of his apple.

“Right fine I’ll go but only to prove that it happened” I said turning away from him back to the door from which I had come from.

I heard him behind me rushing to shove his stuff in his bag and then him running to catch up with me.

I stayed silent as he went on about how I was totally lying and had a wild imagination. When we reached the girl’s bathroom, he looked at the door and sighed.

“I really don’t want to go in but I am only doing this to prove I’m right okay? If this is some joke to get me to go into the girl’s bathroom so you can tell everybody later, I will kill you” he said before he pushed open the door.

I followed and looked to the stall which should have been all burnt and broken but it wasn’t. The bathroom was back to its usual state; even the mirror was no longer cracked. There was no one here.  Cal looked at me and raised his eyebrow again.

“I knew it this was a joke, seriously Lia this isn’t fair. I don’t pull this c**p on you to embarrass you, do I?” he turned and left me alone staring at the stall.

“I hadn’t imagined it all, had I?” I thought.

The Widow in the Window

 

The widow in the window,

Is sitting all alone.

She doesn’t seem to realise

That no one’s coming home.

 

She’ll sit there for hours,

Looking down the drive.

Imagining his face,

Waiting for him to arrive.

 

When it gets dark,

She will still be there.

With tears in her eyes,

And an ongoing stare.

 

The house they had built together,

Was once full of love and life,

Now it creaks in pain and loneliness

As she is no longer his wife.

 

His things are all around her,

She never puts them away.

His unscuffed shoes on the floor,

That is where they will stay.

 

She keeps his badge,

Safely locked in a drawer.

Like one day he will need it,

To fight the next war.

 

The flowers are dead,

Petals litter the ground.

They are the last ones,

That will be found.

 

In her black clothes,

From some days ago.

The dust is settling,

Like the winter’s snow.

 

Light shines through the window,

Onto her withered, pale, cold face.

Strangely, now a smile is on her lips,

She has gone to her happy place.

 

She is Evil

Her step mother was evil.  She just knew it. The way her eyes narrowed where ever she looked, the way her dark red velvet dress dragged on the ground and the way she would lie about things every day.  Annabel had seen what she had done to her favourite cat. She had to be a witch, or maybe she was just insane? Annabel prayed she was only insane.

Annabel’s father was an extremely wealthy man; she had grown up in a huge mansion looking over a massive lake. The lake was where Annabel’s stepmother drowned her cat.

Annabel’s father was never usually home, he went on endless trips and would leave her alone with her awful step mother. Annabel always got this odd feeling that she was always watching her, as if Annabel knew something she shouldn’t.

One day, Annabel was reading a book in the library, when she heard an awful scream. She froze waiting for another sound, but only silence.  Annabel rose from her chair and looked out into the hallway. There was nothing there, to the untrained eye, but Annabel could sense it, something was very wrong. She looked to the dark wooden floor and there it was a single drop of blood.  Normally a person would not have noticed it, but Annabel was not a normal child.

Annabel crept down the hallway, she had gotten half way down the hall when she heard a groaning. She looked to where it was coming from which was behind a large wooden door that led to her father’s study. She reached out her hand and began to push it open.

There on the floor was the dead body of her maid, and crouching over her was her step mother. Annabel froze in shock. Her step mother not noticing her sat up, Annabel could now see the knife lying beside her and the cut across the neck of the maid. Her stepmother then picked up a cup and held it to the maids neck.  Annabel watched as it slid into down slowly into it. She said some strange words that Annabel couldn’t understand and then she drank it. When she had finished, she glanced to the right and saw Annabel.  Annabel’s eyes widened as she saw her step mother’s wrinkles even out and the grey in her hair disappeared.  She didn’t say a word, an evil smile stretched across her blood stained lips.  Annabel had not noticed that the step mother had picked up the knife and was hiding it behind her back.  Then she attacked….

Innocent Part 2 (Short Story)

A raven squawking brings me out of the memory I have half created. I look at it perched on the monstrous oak tree; it looks at me unblinking, like it knows me. A cold chill goes down my spine and I shiver.  I look back to the grave and can’t breathe again. My head feels heavy and my throat tightens as I try holding back my tears. My vision blurs. I look up to the dark gray sky and squeeze my eyes firmly shut.

I don’t understand, why her? Why not me?  Then it’s back. The memory begins to unfold once more.

 

I push the steering wheel sharply to the left, my jaw clenched. I feel my body being thrown to the side, my shoulder slams into the door but I hold on through the pain. There are screams. Then I hear the sound of screeching metal and then darkness.

I smell petrol, smoke and blood. I open my eyes; my head is on the steering wheel. A warm, sticky liquid runs down my nose and as it reaches my mouth I taste iron. I try to move my left arm, but I can’t. I panic as I continually try to move it but it won’t budge. My right arm however, I use to wipe the blood from my damp face.

As I do so I look to my right. I want to scream but no sound comes out.  My little sister is looking at me, terrified. She gives a deep rattling breath. She moves her lips a little but she can’t seem to form any words. Oh god! I think to myself, as I see the blood forming around the tree branch that’s pieced in her chest. I squeeze my lips together and take a breath as I use my good arm to take her hand which is firmly by her side. It’s going to be fine I tell her, she only blinks in response.

I look frantically around but there isn’t anyone around not even the little girl. I try to move, try to free myself but there is no way, my arm is firmly stuck.  I look back at my sweet, little, innocent sister and let the realisation that she will probably die here sink in. I can’t cry or break down I think to myself as I take her hand back in mine and just talk to her. She listens and tears fall down her cheeks as I tell her stories of our childhood. I know that these funny stories don’t dull the pain but I hope and pray that it’s enough to keep her strong.

Her breathing starts to get shallower and shallower by the minute and her skin is beginning to drain of colour as the blood on her chest spreads and spreads. I love you I say when I know that the time has come to say goodbye. Her mouth twitches, her eyes flicker and she lets out her final breath like a sigh and she’s gone.

Innocent Part 1 (Short Story)

 

It’s like a nightmare. I remember this path, the site, the smell. Even though I’ve only physically been here once in my life, I’ve been here hundreds of times in my dreams. As I get closer the old oak tree comes into view, the one that’s stands beside her grave. I stared at for what seemed like hours the day of her funeral.  It looks exactly the same. The branches are thick and twist in and out of each other. I still remember following the lines on the branch of the tree that hovered above my head.  There are no leaves on it; just old decaying moss. It leers over me and casts shadows all around me. Dead leaves litter the ground underneath it; they crunch under my feet as I get closer and closer to her.

My chest starts to feel tight and my heart is fluttering, I take a deep breath but it doesn’t relax me. I stop a few paces in front of it; I can barely make out her name on the grave. Out of everything in this god forsaken place it’s the only thing that’s changed. The flowers that were once bright and vibrant are gone and in its place, long, sharp weeds. I would have guessed, if I hadn’t known myself that no one had visited for years. The marble isn’t white anymore; the moss has changed it to a yellowy, green colour. The rain has weathered away the words but they’re etched in my mind.

‘Tessa Thorn

1985-1997

Loving daughter and sister’

And just like that, it’s back again, that horrible moment of impact.

The music is always the first thing I’m aware of, my sister’s favourite song at the time.  She is singing along laughing as I turn to look at her just for second.  I give an over exaggerated groan in pretend disgust. I turn to look at the cracked road, my hand tight on the steering wheel. I sigh as I start to think about the large amount of work I have to do this weekend. I can feel the strain in my forehead as I frown. She asks me what’s wrong and I tell her it doesn’t matter. She is quiet after that.

Suddenly there she is, the little girl. I’m never sure if I actually saw this or if my mind made it up.  She is standing on the side of the road. Her blonde hair is being tossed behind her by the wind. Her dark blue winter coat and her blood red tights are the only vivid colours that I see. The background behind is just black and gray. Then she darts out in the road. All I see is a blur as we get closer and closer to one another. I feel my heart freeze in my chest as slam the brake on. I see her eyes, those bright blue eyes widen in fear for just a second.

The Figure

The Figure

 

I wrote this poem for University a year ago, I was trying to personify depression make it something you could see physically. The figure in this poem is scary, ugly, dark and controlling which is what I feel what depression is.

 

The Figure

I edge through the scratched door.

There you are in the gloom,

Restlessly waiting for me.

Arms folded, head drooped.

You don’t look up as I enter,

You don’t have to see me.

Your black tangled filthy hair

Dangles on the dusty, dark floor.

Your dirty fingernails are sharp,

As the pool of blood drops down.

The fear is rising in my body,

As time goes reluctantly by.

Your head is slowly rising,

My heart starts to palpitate.

The sound of screaming,

Is ringing in my ears.

All I want is to escape,

But it’s keeping me in my place.

You look dead straight at me,

Your eyes are unblinking, lifeless.

You begin to shakily rise,

Like my presence brings you strength.

Your arm extends out to me,

You want me to join you.

With all my will power,

I step back as far as I can.

Your eyes slightly bulge in surprise,

And you roughly shake your bloody arm.

Your sinister eyes are now angry

As you suddenly grab at me.

Suddenly, I am alone,

I can feel it sinking in.

The figure isn’t real,

It is just in my head.

Yet it controls my life,

Makes me wish I was dead.

Everyone has their demons,

Yet mine seem to stay.