Golden specs of dust Silently falling Sun made visible
Landing on ruffled bedding Left in a rush Unkempt and forgotten Warm still
Dust falls on sheets of paper Scribbles of the imagination And creative flow Paint spots still Speckled on a the mirror
Dust falls gracefully On the wooden floorboards Scattered with litter And the tellings of the day
Something about how The dust falls Is magical to me Blanketing life that once was there
Which now rests still As the dust falls
Usually I was to clean the left wing on Thursdays, but that Thursday was different. The heroes from District 4 were visiting to discuss the take down of The Secret Six; a group of unknown, cold blooded killers, who were known to stalk and kill district leaders. I was behind the doors of the main meeting room, when I heard them.
“I told you, just use the sword technique i taught you” a familiar voice said in an almost whisper. I froze, and focused on the conversation happening a few feet away from me.
“But what if it draws his attention?” Another voice replied timidly. This one was younger.
“It wont.” the first voice reassured him, “I’ll be distracting him. All you have to do, is sneak up behind him, and kill him.” He said this so confidently, and devoid of emotion, that I thought I had heard him wrong. Slowly, I lifted my head and looked up. It was Felix, better known as ‘Cat Man’. The beloved hero with feline eyes, and claw-like painted black nails.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and beating in my ears. These men were trusted by the country to protect us. Who were they planning to kill that evening?
That’s when the sound of heels approached, echoing in the freshly polished hallway. It was Joy, AKA Sun Woman. I swallowed, praying she wasn’t involved, and praying that they didn’t know I was there.
“Is everything set?” She said, looking at Felix, as she raised an eyebrow. Felix turned to Arlo, the young, timid hero. He had just joined the team 4 years ago, and was known as the ‘baby’ of the group. Adored by everyone, especially popular with the younger girls.
Arlo hesitated for a moment, looking into the meeting room through the glass window of the door. “He’s ready” Felix answered for him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “He’s useless” Joy hissed in reply, glaring at Arlo. “If you can’t do it, say so” she said, raising her voice a little “and look at me when I speak to you!” He forced himself to meet her stare.
At that moment, Mr Stiles, our district leader, appeared, taking all 4 of us by surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know you had arrived already!” He said with a big smile. Suddenly he looks straight at me, “Marie, you should have told me!”. They all snapped their heads in my direction, eyes wide. All I could hear was ringing.
This is my first ever story
You tried to ignore me again, scrolling right past. But your thumb paused for long enough on my too familiar name.
I know you saw me.
Later that evening in a melancholy light, you study your face once more with those deep brown eyes. Why do you seem to get uglier each day? Wet eyes lead to streams of black, marking my territory on your face.
Now’s a daily struggle to keep me out of your mind that I own. My words like sweet sonnets you can't stop reading. They hurt; but you still drink like a thirsty dog after a long walk.
You wonder what I want from you; but all i want is for you to hurt. I want you to soak your pillows at 4am, then stare lifelessly at the ceiling for the rest of the night. Then go to class the next day looking half dead, half dead. I want people to stare at you, and whisper. And I want it to hurt.
Who am I? I’m the monster you made.
ominous music
The storm arrived this morning and never seemed to leave. But that was okay because I had always loved rain. I could feel how heavy it had gotten by the sound of its every fall; the pattering on the roof sounded like a song made especially for me, it felt almost rude, not to appreciate it. So I set my knife and fork down, closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
As i exhaled, my eyes immediately fixated on a couple outside. Their coats were dark and damp from the journey they had taken to get here, their hair sleek, and clinging to their rosy cheeks. The woman was crying. Now I was intrigued. She was hysterical; angrily thrashing her arms around as she screamed at the other. Her face getting redder and redder by the second, until she broke and started sobbing. The man immediately caught her in his arms and embraced her tightly. Momentarily, the noise in the cafe quietened down, I could no longer hear the blend of voices around me, or the music coming from every corner, or the clinking of cutlery against plates of food. I was engrossed in this story now; waiting to see what happened next. He gently wiped the hair from the weeping woman’s cheeks, then held her face in his hands and smiled reassuringly into her eyes. I wish I could have heard what she said to her. While holding her and her gaze, he eventually brought a smile to his lovers puffy but now calm face. Crying woman nodded, then laughed for a second, and smiled, leaning in for a thankful kiss. So heartfelt and loving, in a rainstorm, it was like watching a silent movie. I felt embarrassed, intruding in such an intimate moment, quickly turning back to my food. Stealing another quick, but not so quick glance, I saw them laughing together, arms around the other’s waist, foreheads touching. They both smiled up at the sky, soaking in every glorious drop of rain like two flowers in a beautiful garden. To them, everyone else were just blades of grass. Background. I smiled and went back to eating my now cold food.
This was based on true events...obviously romanticised a little😅
Love is the lie that keeps us alive Love is the lie we tell ourselves every night To keep us warm against the winter winds That crash against our windows; demanding to be let in. No matter how tight you pull the covers, you cant stop the icy breeze from entering through the gaps. So keep your frosty eyes firmly shut.
Its just your anxiety. You tell yourself. They love you. To death.
Then why do you feel the burning of their hate? And why does your heart sink when you hear their names? Why does your skin crawl at the thought of being with them?
No. You try to remind your self. Deep breath. They love you. To death. Right?
A warm orange light dances across your face as you turn to the fire, take another deep breath. You relax your shoulders and smile back at the winking flames. You blink hard, twice, causing the melted frost from your lashes to trickle down your cheeks. Are you crying? Don’t. For they love you. They do love you, right?
