"Angel, wake up."
The room was crowded with a dull buzzing sound. Ximena shook her head, as she felt she saw double. For the first thing, the woman/man infront of her looked tall/little and very robust/ petite and stared at her in contempt/pity.
The one beside them nudged them softly/harshly. "Don't get her hopes up! You only need to deliver the information required."
She/he sighed. Ximena watched as it came closer to her face, until it was inches from her nose.
"Entered at age 20 and offenses are as followed," it began reading off the script in a monotone/peppy voice.
"False witness, cursing, unfaithfulness, gluttonous...."
The words seemed to fade into Ximena's brain until she bit back a scream. But with what body? Her soul stood at a motionless state, where these entities were the only ones who could travel.
"....It is still unclear which path you are bound for, so you must abide here."
Ximena silently watched the unearthly beings, and thought,"What is going on?"
The entities seemed to understand and one patiently/rapidly stated,"Your body is disconnected from you."
"Like a coma?"
"A more permanent one, at the very least."
"I do not understand."
"Lost soul, do you not understand? Let me explain in your earthly terms. You are dead."
[Hello, I would like to elaborate on this scene. It is an interpretation of purgatory, everything being neither good/bad, hence the conflicting opposing characteristics of everything. As someone who often wonders about what happens proceeding death, I often find myself trying to list off what might be held against me, like what the angel/demon does to Ximena. Anyways, thank you for reading this far]
Staring at the wall, Hand open wide, Once in yours, Every night you would call, Your eyes washed over me like a tide, Your doing fine by my source, I wish that wasn't all, Tv reruns of us where i bide, You ate my heart as a course, Drank my liberal mind in a glass tall, While I tore yours open without remorse.
I can hear the noise, Please cancel it out for me, Lay you hands over my ears, As you cry softly, As I do too, For the exhaustion is eternal, But we are not, So lean on my shoulder, As the night stays, It will stay until we become ground, Until we become grass, Until we are flowers, Until we are cut, Best way of time, But the sphere may die as we do, Oh well, The noise silences our pleading voices, They weakened as we grew, As then I did not think much, A shame I was taught to, So now I can think back to the time, Where first the auburn leaves and wind, Did not express as great impact to me, Films were fiction to me, Roads did not take adventure to me, And the sorrowful call we hear, It was not like the ringing some heard, It was all becoming real.
Her voice breaks. She wears baggy clothes underneath her large figure. I stare at her from afar while she makes eye contact with him. It's entertaining, really, hearing her shriek again for the third time this day. Entertaining how she often hushes my singing or joyous laughs. I grin ear to ear, while she walks away, into her dark room.
People often roll their eyes at me. I understand, they may not understand my humor, as my role in the world is the court jester. My father calls himself that like I do, but I have never seen anyone laugh at him. I often end in hysterics after each of their insults, as it never bothers me much.
I nod my head to relieve her gaze off me. The corners of my mouth hurt. How much longer do her horrible eyes stay in my vision, I am not sure. A little longer. How much longer? Two years, I will be free, ready to turn off my phone and my smile for eternity somehow.
They release the bolts from my door. They stash the keys from me for my punishment. I know I disobeyed the rule. I know we all agreed not to show that emotion.
But nothing is funny anymore.
It shrieks well into the night, When the lights flicker off, Loathing the ones around, Itching to escape its domestic encagement, Scratching and tearing at my skin.
I fear it's too powerful, Its claws of faux cotton, A soft perspective but harsh reality, My hidden creation, Jaws chained by day, But words blurted through the muzzle.
My monster is deemed too unfit, No one will accept it, For its scales green, Eyes narrowed, And teeth clenched, I hideous unknown sight.
I know it well, I see it often, I cannot be rid of them, For I've created the monster, And the monster is me.
"Verne, I can't see anything." "Neither can I," he responded, his voice raspy and coarse, for they had been without water for three days, desperately trying to drink the droplets that clung to the stone walls in which they were held. Ambrose was awoken suddenly, moments before they were shoved through a corridor to all the eyes that the arena allowed. Or that is what he assumed it was. He tried in vain to open his eyelids, but they were defiant, as if they had been nailed together. He puts his hands to his eyes.
Or sewn shut.
As the deafening jeering got even more thunderous, Verne cried out," Ambrose, Ambrose!" But to no avail, as Ambrose stood frozen in fear, his mouth betraying him, for he tried to shout back, but nothing came out.
The air was hot and humid, stinging on his exposed skin, his clothes shredded from the rough ground he laid upon for days prior. A large thunk was made on the right of Ambrose, where shouts came from, and a large growling noise. Chains clinked and a scuffling disturbed the dust beneath them where Ambrose was met by a delayed dust wind, some reaching his mouth and tongue, graveling against his palate. Verne continued to scream.
Over head a booming voice of a man was played that was of foreign vernacular and proceeded to intensify the crowd's rage and excitement. Ambrose heard another heavy growl, more infuriated, came from behind him. He turned to the noise.
In an instant an array of footsteps came around him, in all directions, faster and faster, in a gallop fashion almost, where a storm of soil particles blew, encircling him in an encasement.
Then he heard an unnatural screech of the animal, where it was echoed in close contact to his ear. In an sudden moment, he felt an intense prickle of claws into his shoulders, talons sheathed upon him as if large daggers. He shrieked in pain, thrusted forward into the ground, mouth full of gravel and sand. The creature pressed on his back with its weight, slowly crushing him underneath like he was a mat. Ambrose could feel his breath squeezed out of him, slowly consumed by the unbearable weight that compressing skeleton.
Then there was a crash, and the creature was lifted off him, screaming and hissing in agony, tussling on the ground with another. Ambrose lay unmoving on the ground, an invisible boulder still felt as if it was placed on his backside, and a deep sting through his face and lips from his fall.
"Ambrose," Verne's voice shouted at him from afar. He could hear his footsteps getting closer. Verne grabbed him by the chest and pulled him from the ground up, where his feet unsteadily stood, at risk to tumble to the floor again.
"Verne, go," Ambrose pleaded softly as his lungs were weak and damaged.
"Ambrose, I killed him, I killed the serpent."
My feathers ruffle in the robust breeze, It forces me back into my haven, But I will persist, For I do not know of the trees that lay beyond mine, The perspectives of the sun to encounter, For I am certain of none of it, And none is my dreams, For I live as the bug in the air, The snake in the grass, And everywhere in between, For one lives a thousand lives, Only if it lives in others, Of those beyond the tree, Beyond the nest.
Must receive the same fate, Utilizing different transportation, How humorous I find it, Lowly and strong men, All fall under my just hand, As per to the agreement signed, One who breathes must decay,
But who shall meet the latter?
The old aware of me, Sedentary and full of memory, Surroundings meeting the fate prior to,
The boy in the the bed, Stars plastered above him on the ceiling, Knowing only two people, and soon three,
The girl at the party, Had she misused her eyes, My partner has sown the seed, Within her product in hand consumed, A tragedy and fall from grace,
But more a tradegy the anguish, Where men squander a dice roll, Where they cover their eyes in fear, As to when their turn will be, And as if the contract heeds no purpose, As if a grave overrides the feeling, The feeling of basic existence.
She plays chess, She always beats me, She sits bent over the board, My pieces she hoards, A pawn between her teeth, Her thoughts beneath her breath,
I wish I could challenge her game, Her compsure still and quiet, Her mind resembling a riot, Strong and willful, Never rejecting my attempt, To create her defeat,
My strategies soon delete, The days sitting by, A wooden board day to nigh', Due to my obsessions, But she'll never know, I'll let her, Let her be the winner.