A.M. Bradley
Amateur writer from Chicago looking for feedback.
A.M. Bradley
Amateur writer from Chicago looking for feedback.
Amateur writer from Chicago looking for feedback.
Amateur writer from Chicago looking for feedback.
I watch her walk in and out of the house every day but she doesn’t seem to notice I’m there.
I know if she just gave me a chance that I could help, but sometimes it’s like she purposely avoids me. If she only let me: I could carry some of the burden and make her forget the pain.
People call me manipulative for reaching out at her worst times, but I think if she realizes I love her at her worst that deserve to be there at her best. I just have to be patient.
I caught her looking at me before she left the house today. She didn’t think I noticed the hesitation in her judgement or the longing in her eyes, but the chemistry I felt was undeniable.
I knew I had to calm down before I ended up popping my own top, but the thought of her rapid pulse and dilating eyes kept coarsing through me the same way I wanted to coarse through her.
I have a good feeling about this.
The sound of the door swings open and startles me; a siren of cries bouncing off every wall in the house. Before I can even get a chance to comprehend what’s happening, I feel a hand clasp around me.
“Finally.”
I mutter to myself as she presses me to her lips and consumes me the way I always new she would.
And as she calms down and we finally drift off to sleep together, I can only I pray nobody pumps her stomach this time.
It’s tall and lanky Umbrella in hands __ Both thin and shaky Hiding sinister plans __ Two eyes of glass Match a butterfly of blue With a grin made of wax _That is begging to know you _ __ I don’t know what it is Whether skeleton or ghoul But I will not move closer For I am no fool __ Paralyzed by fear And frozen in time I wipe a glass tear _From eyes that are no longer mine _ __
The more they talk, the more she feels it.
Her skin feels flushed and for a moment she worries that even he can feel the heat radiating from her. Time seemed to go faster than ever whenever they were together, at times she even found herself pleading with the clock to slow down.
The nerves in her stomach start to feel less like butterflies and more like cicadas that never seem to stop vibrating, causing her to fidget with her hands nervously. Every cell in her body seems to ignite when he’s around. The tidal of emotions soon begin to cloud her brain with fear and anxiety, wondering if she might’ve made this whole scenario up in her head. She shuttered at the thought.
But as he gently replaces her hand with his own, interlocking their fingers, a surge seems to flow through her veins like ocean waves: rushing over her freely before drifting backwards and taking every doubt with it.
The sound of the gravel under their feet seems to recoil off the barren trees like a gong; the area being so silent it almost hurts. The air is so stagnant that they aren’t sure whether or not they’re even inhaling properly. The dryness stings their eyes as they try widening them to get a bettter look, realizing soon that there is no better look.
They appear to be entirely surrounded by lifeless organisms that they always heard were flourishing. The sky that was supposed to reflect vibrantly off vast depths of ocean seemed only to reflect the dust that now replaced it.
Still, as they stare into the desolate land, they can’t shake the feeling that something else is watching them.
“Going somewhere?” A deep, masculine voice seemed to chuckle behind me.
The instructions were simple: infiltrate the gala, swap the codes, and avoid the charming spy. __ __ The metal of the vent seems to echo loudly over the muffled music as I snap my hands back to my side. I feel my cheeks start to blush as I shuffle my heels around the lid of the toilet, clearly having been caught.
_“I- uh… bad date! Looking for a way to sneak out.” _I gulp, finally making eye contact with the voice.
He lends his hand out to help me down; the blood suddenly rushing to my head as I feel his other hand clutch my waist.
_“Looking for a way to sneak out… an air duct?” _He glances up toward the vent, then back to me. “Really?”
He positions his frame - perfectly blocking the door - arms crossed as the black suit seems to perfectly fold around his biceps. When suddenly, the bathroom light reflects perfectly off the black revolver tucked into the side of his belt. The realization begins to set in.
_Avoid the charming spy. _
“Really.” I say back, slightly more sternly than was intended. I glance at the door behind him and begin to tap my heels, implying that he’s blocking the only exit.
His eyes grow darker as they proceed to look me up and down, only slowing as he gazes at the slit in my gown that’s currently exposing my impatiently moving leg before he steps towards me. As he attempts to place a hand on my face, I can’t stop my reflexes from catching him by the wrist to stop him.
He chuckles once more, twisting his arm hastily to change our positions. I feel the sensation of the cool door against my back as he proceeds to hoist my arm over my head. The warmth of his breath tickles my neck before reaching my ear. I gasp as I feel his hand running over my thigh until the sudden snap of the garter against my skin brings me back to reality. My breath shallows as vulnerability replaces the air in my lungs.
Now holding the blade I once thought I had concealed perfectly, he whispers,
_“Just tell me what you did to the original codes.” _
I peer around before throwing the hood of my jacket over my head. As I take the usual walk home, I find myself listening to the sound of leaves rustling as the wind blows between them. The trees begin to sway more aggressively; strands of my hair escaping from beneath my hood and swinging wildly over my face. I put my hands in my pocket for warmth, noticing a sudden chill in the breeze. The familiar smell of rain catches my attention and I take a deep breath in. A rumbling erupts from above almost at the same moment I twist my house key into the front door. The sound of droplets on the roof grow louder as a darker hue seems to fill the living room. Closing the door behind me, I remove my jacket and let out a sigh of relief, thankful I made it home in time.
Sometimes when I look in the mirror, there’s another version of myself staring back. She stands seductively with blood red skin, hollow eyes, and large devilish horns. The room suddenly becomes a swamp-like area with trees that seem to be made up of a strange combination of every season; somehow full of lush green, autumn leaves, and barren branches. I put my hands to the mirror as she mimics my movements in perfect sync. I feel my eyes widen as I examine her figure - built in my image but a confidence I lack and ache for seems to appear in front of me, almost as if it shows my secret desires: the boldness she seems to possess. My heart races as I realize I’m interacting with the most lustful and dangerous version of myself. A part of me I’ve long ignored, for good reason, was somehow standing in a mirror I happened to come across in my mother’s attic. The urges I used to feel were almost as filled with cobwebs as the golden frame that held the full body reflection before me. The more my eyes dance with the devil, the harder it becomes to resist my body following. The longer I stare at myself the stranger I feel and I start to wonder how much time I’ve actually been standing up here or if anyone in the house was looking for me, but I couldn’t look away. The demons eyes resemble bright lights and they almost hurt to keep looking into. I hear something in the attic around me rattle and suddenly begin to feel there was a good reason this mirror was locked away up here. My head spins and my vision tunnels as the creature in front of me appears to grow stronger. _How do I pull myself away from this thing? _