Dreams, smoke, screams, & oak It was all becoming real Someone burned the tree

What do you do when you’ve gotten everything you could have possibly dreamed?

Him.

What do you do when after all this time, he figured it out?

You.

What do you do when he leaves, locking you in the bathroom?

Fire.

And what do you do when the smoke starts to enter the room, the handles burning to touch?

Die.

Buried deep into the ground Kneaded and knotted with wood There’s something lost to be found Roots, my beginning, worm food

say it.

“yes officer, he is my boyfriend no, i was out with my friends haven’t seen him since yesterdsy we always got along, never fought yeah, actually. his ex is a psycho. it’s her you should be interviewing, not me”

i know where she is.

“there should be records of us reporting her fine. she constantly broke into our house and stole my car and cash and whatever she could find. tore up my clothes too. we both have restraining orders against her what? she’s missing?”

bottom of the river.

“thank everything, she was a menace.”

snitches get shot.

“why would i know where she is? my boyfriend might, she harrassed him the most. ask him. no, i don’t make eye contact …he’s dead?”

say it.

“it was probably her! that crazy- i don’t know what happened like i said, i was out with friends haven’t seen him since yesterday, thought he was with his friends … you found what in the river?”

to begin anew cast away your ring for him bowed head, kiss his hand he is your king, my daughter you are his queen, my daughter

They are tall, taller than anything we’ve ever seen. The smallest couldn’t have been shorter than 9’0.

They are dark in complexion, darker than the night sky. Their skin is dotted with bright dots, like stars.

They have eyes of black holes, swirling but so silent. Some claimed to have seen more than two eyes on them.

They have japing jaws, teeth like needles. Stretching down their faces like it was melting off, their mouth hardly moves.

They have wings, fragile as a butterfly’s, but pure white. The wings are damaged, they don’t seem to fly anymore.

They move in unison, like a marching band. But each of them one moves to, or does something different.

They speak in cries of the damned. There have been reports of those hearing their lost loved one’s cries in these things’ mouths.

They twitch and shudder, like they’re being electrocuted. Someone claimed to have touched them, though. Apparently, they’re so cold that it burns to touch them.

They don’t seem to understand us, if they do, they’re doing an excellent job at ignoring us. Even when they’re faced with gun threats.

They don’t seem to be violent.

They haven’t eaten anything since appearing, perhaps they don’t eat. Some speculate they are like plants, consuming the moon’s light.

They appeared like meteors, fallling fast from the skies. Landing atop buildings, trees, and cars.

They will not leave, maybe they cannot. They may not want to, we’re too scared to treat them harshly.

They lurk in the shadows, thriving in when the sun goes down. They enjoy knocking over garbage bins and dumpsters.

They can run fast. Really, really fast. They look like a blur, a smudge on the glass. You wouldn’t even know if they were right behind-

Today I chose to not take the pill.

There wasn’t any valid reason for it, I had simply decided to take a break. No one wants to become hooked to a tiny blue oval, after all. Besides, it was a lovely day out.

I stepped out of my apartment and headed down the clunky elevator. The good ol’ faithful elevator; she always felt like she would break, plummenting down and crashing into the basement floor. Yet, she persisted, chugging along every day.

I typically don’t run into my neighbors. They’re shut-ins, overnight workers, or elderly folk. I don’t mind too much, I’m not too socialable either.

I pushed open the shabby double doors and stepped into the sunlight, shining high over the trees. Perhaps I should treat myself, there’s a cafe down the block. Family-owned, I beileve. Parker’s. I was never sure if that was a first or last name. They made excellent bagels.

Walking down the street, I felt oddly peppy. Like, the universe had kissed my forehead to grant me a day of deserved luck and peace.

A mother dragging along a young boy, presumably her son, sped past me. Something shiny caught my eye, but I assumed it was a necklace or some coin the boy had picked up.

But as more and more bustled around me, I realized that everyone seemed to reflect off the sun. Passing by a park bench, I slowed to a stop. There was an elderly seated by each other. Both having zippers across their skin.

The elderly woman looked up, unzipped her lips, and smiled at me.

Blood dripped out from her gums, staining her teeth red. Looking closer, I could see that the rest of the zippers had red clumps around, did it hurt?

I nodded at her quickly before dashing off. I paid more attention to those around me now.

Everyone had zippers.

Stretching across their skin, pulling it tight. Some had blood dripping down their skin, others had the red clumps surrounding the zippers. A lady unzipped her mouth to talk to her friend. Blood poured out of her mouth and stained her dress.

I saw someone zip and unzip his eyelids. Is that his way of blinking?

The sound of the zippers echoed, getting louder and louder. I wasn’t close enough to Parker’s. I wasn’t close enough to my apartment. So I ran.

Covering my ears, I ran.

Why couldn’t I have stayed inside? Taken the pill? Am I still dreaming? That would make sense if I was, I always take my pill.

I dashed into a park, it typically wasn’t very busy in the mornings. After school hours was a different story, but those kids won’t be out for a few hours.

Hiding behind a park bench, I covered. I cried. I could still hear the zippers, the blood pooling around their ankles.

Why are they covered in zippers? Why are they bloody? If I unzip them, will their layers fall off? One by one? Fleshy bit by fleshy bit? I felt sick.

I threw up. Where were my zippers? Why am I so different?

Why am I different?

I can’t be different. That pill made me different, hardly anyone else takes it. Why do I always stand out? Do I not bleed?

I began to scratch. And to pull, to tear. To rip, starting from my arms to my thighs. Blood pooled around, staining the grass. I frantically looked around at the bits of flesh, not good enough.

I grabbed a sharp stone and began to jab at myself, leaving deep wounds. Where are my zippers?

Taking the rock, I bashed into my teeth. I recalled the chatty lady, the elderly woman. They bled when they spoke, so should I. Teeth shards fell onto the ground, a gift to the worms.

I cried harder as I dug my fingers into my skin and smashed the rock into my bones. It hurt. It hurt so badly, why do I have to do this to myself?

Why don’t I have the zippers? Why do I have to take the pill? Why didn’t I take the pill? Maybe then, I would have zippers.

So here I lay, in a pooling puddle of blood, flesh, and bits of bone, salted by my tears. Zipperless. Despite everything, I am the same. I am different. I am zipperless.All because today I chose to not take the pill

The angels & trumpets rained above; Falling, losing feathers, shot like a dove.

Snakes & the woman disobeyed God; Choosing fruit over a garden facade.

Being cast away & shed of his wings; A soul cries & shudders, free from his strings.

The sky full of stars seemed dead and cold; a place so magical now hurt to behold.

Even the devil Wears a suit and tie When facing the eyes Of all those who cried Because of his sins

“Tell me your regrets.”

“I like to think that I don’t have any.”

“You’ve lived life to the fullest?”

“More like lived it too fast.”

“How would you have slowed it down?”

“It kinda did a bit ago.”

“When the gun was at your forehead?”

“…Yeah.”

“No need to be hesitant, I was there.”

“You knew?”

“It was written.”

“Ah. Are you death?”

“You seem disappointed.”

“Just hoping for an angel. Maybe my mom. Thought you were my friend.”

“I am. Death is something that follows you your entire life, you know.”

“Did you somehow convince me to kill myself?”

“I must follow what is written. Otherwise the works will turn sideways.”

“Are you really my friend?”

“I did care about you, cried at your funeral.”

“Thanks. Big turnout?”

“Sure. Your boss even showed.”

“Hm. That’s cool. So now what happens?”

“We leave.”

“To where?”

“Whatever comes next.”

“Do you know?”

“No, actually. I’ve never been. I have a job to do.”

“Gonna convince someone else to buy a gun?”

“My next job is to be a drunk driver.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes. It hurts very much.”

“Where do you think I’m going?”

“Onto a train. I’m not sure what the destination is.”

“Oh. You were a really good friend, you know.”

“I try to be.”

“No, really. You were amazing. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll try to miss you too.”