Thump. The stair creaks above her, hailing dust upon the tiny child. Thump. Legs buckled, coupled with shaking arms, her dark eyes wide and wild. Thump. Closer yet the heavy-walker comes, glass adorns his eyes. Thump. Alcohol dancing on his tongue, away away the little girl shies. Thump. Here and now the man arrives, delivering then her loss of sight. Thump. A woman bolts upright, reliving her life through cold sweats on dark nights.

“What a twist of fate…” The book vender said wistfully as she walked through the empty house. She had finally saved up enough credits from selling vintage books out of her car and was looking for a place to set up real, steady business. This house belonged to an abandoned residential zone which was recently turned into a historical zone to increase local businesses in the area and to preserve the few homes that still stood.

The house smelled of a sweet musty scent and had large windows to let in light, through two French doors the book vendor discovered a backyard spanning a quarter of an acre. She gasped with pleasure, pondering various ways to use the yard for her book shop. When she explored past the deck which had collapsed at least a few centuries ago she found that past the end of the expansive yard was a forest filled with broken, disused homes and a small creek choked with litter. It would be a great deal of work to clean up the backyard so it wasn’t as much of a jungle, and to clear up the creek but she smiled defiantly as if to declare her goals were remotely possible.

Back at the ancient house, the book vendor explored further, discovering the only piece of furniture left behind by its last inhabitants many centuries ago. It was a desk of wood, handmade and covered unevenly in a resin which was its only saving grace from the passing of time.

She also noticed in every windowsill were glass bottles, most empty and stripped of their labels, but others had plants thriving inside of them that she’d never seen before. Some had bones, cracked and crumbling within the bottles. More had dried flowers, and others were painted vibrant colors which danced across the floors.

Within her heart she felt a faint twinge, knowing that with a little love this home, which was far from dead, could be brought to life. She bought the house, spending weeks cleaning it and filling it with furniture and books. At long last, her business opened, and it thrived.

The desk was gone for it was too unstable, but the bottles remained, letting in light and aesthetic. Customers, upon buying their books, could go out into the backyard and have reading picnics, book clubs fought for the best patches of grass. The creek flowed steadily, small children stood in the ankle high water to cool off from the warm sun.

The former book vendor peered out of a window, she sighed pleasurably knowing that this was perfect. The house loved her and she loved it in turn, many decades passed by and the book shop was handed from mother to daughter, each time the mother reminded the inheritor to never abandon the old home so that it would never be lonely again.

Rushing on a diagonal plane, Frowning faces, Wiping windshields all in vain.

You fly down, A flipped balloon, Such voluminous sound, One might as well swoon.

How you are loved, Abuser of mine, You strike, I am clubbed, Your beauty, divine.

The one I find glorious, We meet upon the street, It’s all a euphoria, Your time here, so fleet.

A passing musky scent, Always tells you’ve went, In bliss, Shall I sigh.

Ever after, heaven’s cry.

Be wary of their hand, For it becomes their demand. Absolute, Resolute, Every point, a period.

Be wary of their touch, For it becomes their clutch. Always there, Nervous fear, Like you’ll leave them any day.

Be wary of their flout, For it becomes their doubt. Insecure, Baited lure, Constant suspect to the lie.

These crimson cloths, The ones of my demise, That fly when lacking wind’s sloth, Must they be, So well disguised?

Please take this apology, For crying in the shower, All to cloak my agony, Forgive my desperate cower.

“Nice guys like to see a smile,”

So sorry, But every time I smile, My face feels so defiled. The pain is unbearable. This grin, unwearable.

No longer am I joyful, when you look at me. No more shall I linger, so that we can be.

Goodbye, dearest. Sincerely, Me.

I feel bad, I move on I don’t know what in the world’s going on I feel sad, I move on I don’t know how much longer I can hold on I feel a tad Like I’m a bit mad But I move on just like before Except now I wish you’d see me torn I hide but you can’t see me? How? I just want you to know my pain Shut your mouth and look again You love It’s not me You love That image you see.

Cry in the shower Masterful deceit? Hide the lack of power Hole within me Staggering chains You don’t see pain Are you okay? Shut up and look All I’ve got Is life’s left hook Screw feelings What’s the point I’m always reeling You’ve always sought Black as coffee Never forgot A heart like mine But you can pine For all I care Never again Will love be fair I screwed it up It’s all my fault Never again.

In a world where mechanical beings rule from atmospheric height and humans live like scum in the trenches of earth. The Valence are in their last push for the extinction of mankind; but, Amari110, a young Mechanical must learn and choose a take on this one-sided war. As Amari110 grows restless so does a human child. Their lives are hard; their minds are closed, but can they change the fated end of a human world?

There once was She. She, who inches through time, and She who was worn away by its endless whittling against Her bones.

 Yonder into the past, for She did not know, She left her home, carried away in the strong currents of youth. Awakening from a traveler’s slumber, She found settlement and built a home in the forest, a place of cold streams and lush ferns. 

 Populated as it was, They did not care for Her just as She had no care for Them. 

After a while, another came into Her life. Placid green and soft was this one. One, She discovered, that cared for Her. It’s warm fuzziness grew upon Her with a subtle intensity. Others learned of Her newly softened exterior and often bent down to have mirthful chatter. She recognizes those times as among Her happiest. But all good things come to an end.

 Desperate times came, Her dearest One withered away from Her as though a leaf blown in the wind. 
 To frozen grief She succumbed, the cold putting cracks in Her heart. Now, She looks on as others make the same mistakes, her exterior now weathered and broken.

 What a life, the stone thought, when would it end?

It was all his fault.

Heaving stress-saturated breaths as he climbed into the car,

“Come on, Darling,”

the single father squeaked, he was gonna be late for work if they didn’t get a move on. She climbed into the car and on they went, he got to his meeting only being a few trivial minutes late.

Leaving work he felt better, he truly was a kind man; he looked up into the bright sun beaming down on him and squinted. A bead of sweat rolled down his face as he climbed into the broiling hot car and drove off to get his daughter from daycare.

She wasn’t there, she must have gotten picked up by her grandma again, oh how he wished that they would tell him when they did that.

In the morning he was late again, rushing out to the car he hopped in, immediately frowning at the stench.