The sky is blue
Looking in you wouldn’t a clue Of how this procession Feels made for two Twin blank expressions
The grass is green
Alive as I, I mean As I look to her still At just over fifteen Jealous on the hill
My dress is black
A row besides the plaque Feeling I’ll and distant As if in a flashback A voice whispers insistent
The grave is brown
Six feet down Drawing me near Towards the bone made crown Deep below the ground
The sky is blue
Looking in you wouldn’t a clue Of my wish to go through With that dark wish so taboo Of being next in the queue
My skin is pale
Like a ghost from folktale Breath becoming stale As I dream of a nail Through my own coffin impales
Let me past the veil
The sky is blue
Watches his garden His nursery of green Keeps all unwound And succinctly clean
Snap! Go his shears Sqealch! Go his boots Fond! Go his eyes He tends to the roots
Bundles like babies When the snow falls Keep them from Hades Till they grow tall
He puts down the shovel And picks up his scythe Corpses in bundles All set to bite
The fields of the battle Sit gently untouched Till he grows hungry And must raise new lunch
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
Annabel just kept crying, silent tears streaking down her face. The earthquake had collapsed the entire house, and left dirt coating every bit of skin on her. Emergency responders weren’t too far off now, and I knew she would be okay.
“I promise, you’ll be okay.”
I wasn’t in pain, beyond the feeling of not being able to breathe, how my surroundings didn’t feel quite real, and how my skin burned in the sun.
“Maybe not today, but you’ll get past this. You’ve always been stronger than you know.”
I tried to wipe the tear tracks from her face, but it was no use.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, wishing I could cry. “Look at me, love.”
She looked up, eyes far off behind me.
Somewhere far away from this broken little home, and me lying before her.
“I love you.”
I faded as the first emergency responder came to pick up the sole survivor of the house.
Amantha collapsed in front of five friends and her sister while preparing for a ritual to open the family’s will. Her parents had died two days ago due to natural occurrences.
It is my professional opinion that Amantha’s parents death ought to be closer investigated due to Amantha’s death.
Amantha’s had to fast for a day and a half on the night of the full moon in order to complete the ritual, and it is for this reason that although the death seemed to be natural that I was called in to investigate. I found nothing in her stomach or digestive tract, nor food residue in her mouth or throat. Poison residue was however discovered inside of her lungs- leading me to believe someone spelled the poison directly into her lungs in order to make it appear natural.
The disruption of the ritual due to Amantha’s sudden death left the will broken, and it’s recovery take cursebreakers far too expensive for either Amantha’s family or the Local Investigators Department to hire.
With Amantha’s death, her sister Clemara is said to inherit the estates, and I advise that she is kept under the close surveillance of a changeling or other shapeshifter.
Either Clemara will be murdered next to secure the fortune for someone else, or Clemara was the mage who killed the family.
Regards, Sherton Gideon
It was beautiful.
There was a strong tree in the yard, with a rickety old swing tied to its branches. It was too fragile to actually be used, but Sam liked to imagine that it had been used before. That it had been the centerpiece of shrieking laughter and childish whispers. He could imagine the exuberant smiles, warm with the sun.
There would be popsicles eaten on the porch, leaving sticky fingers and leaving mouths stained blue. Tender care as someone wiped the juice away from their skin despite any fussing.
Innocent.
Sam sighed, pushing himself up from his spot on the front porch chair as slowly as he liked. There was no one to look at hummed pityingly out here- not when the closest house was miles away. He could take his time standing up without thinking about the looks his burn covered skin would garner.
They weren’t decorative, the skin too tight around his waist and cheek- making it hard to move or smile without cracking open the skin like wet paper.
But it was quiet here, and the cool air of the afternoon seems to soothe the burns like no aointment or cream prescribed could.
The fragile swing swung in the breeze, but it did not break.
Sam didn’t touch it, letting it sit as it was.
It didn’t fall.
“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!” The little girl exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. Her eyes sparkled in excitement as she spoke, hands splayed out to either side.
“Oh, really?” Her father asks, listening contentedly as he cracked open an egg above a pan. It hit the surface with a sizzle, yolk breaking. “Why were they so happy?”
“I don’t know,” She hummed. “He bought me and Sally ice cream at the park, and even let me get sprinkles on mine.”
“Did Sally’s mommy see that?”
“She said it was okay!”
Her father smiled, covering the pan. “That was nice of him.”
“He was so nice, Daddy! He told me he was going to fly, and was going to see his mommy again!
The oil popped on the pan as the father lowered himself to the floor. As if he could change what she said, or somehow make sense of his daughters words. “He’s- he’s going to fly?”
“Mhmm!” She giggled at her fathers funny face. “He said he was going to fly over the tall buildings and up, up, up, into the clouds!”
The eggs burned, forgotten on the stove.
The happiest man on earth laid silent on the pavement, hidden behind a dumpster.
The trees whisper Soft and gentle with stories Harsh and demanding with advice Comforting and quiet with secrets They offer a listening ear With leaves dancing gracefully around you A soothing presence With their strong noble trunks Listen, quiet now as they watch Listen, take heed to their warnings Listen, the trees are whispering Who are you to ignore?
