Lexi
Aspiring creative writer, can’t ever stick to a theme so settling with short stories :) open to constructive criticism and a good conversation
Lexi
Aspiring creative writer, can’t ever stick to a theme so settling with short stories :) open to constructive criticism and a good conversation
Beggar Amongst Hounds
A quiet knock sounds, I peer outside, A beggar amongst hounds. “Please, I need help!” The old woman cried.
Against my better judgement I let her inside. From her cloak she unwrapped a child. Between the coo and smiles Of the newborn child,
The woman pressed her hand to her chest. Blood leaked from her wounds that nearly invisible. To her cut I pressed a cloth, trying my best. But no matter how hard I pressed her chest still bled Her heart ached physically and metaphorically from giving up her kid. And then the woman disappeared. Her soul flitted to the wind.
Main Character
Sometimes I believe I’m the main character, Sometimes I feel like the comedic relief.
That is, until I realize everyone has individual lives. Lives that don’t revolve around me. Sometimes I believe they are free, Free from the constraints of society. But that in itself is a stupid thought. No matter how hard I fight, I’m always in a different tense, fought. I’m not current, I’m the past. I’m the embodiment of a side character. At once, at last.
The One Behind The Gun
Sometimes the monster we look for isn’t on the outside. Sometimes the innocence we see in the mirror is a facade. Sometimes the path we trod, Is full of glass and sharp nails. Sometimes the one behind the gun hides behind veils.
But, Sometimes that monster? Is confusing, not even another person. Its inside of us, the ones who start the fire, the cause of arson. People spend years looking for the evil in the world, But what if the evil isn’t in the world, But inside of YOU?
Murderer At The Breakfast Table
Blood runs thicker than water, Until it doesn’t. Until family turns, they’re missing a daughter Serving cereal to the rich, You find out they threw her body in the ditch.
Dialing the numbers into the phone, A shadowy figure appears “You’re not going home” The son. The murderer. Cold spikes through your veins, fear.
Something hits your head “Night night, time for bed” Your vision goes dark and you have no time to process your own death.
Floating Between Realities
In the sunny field where I reside Two realities collide.
One of unconsciousness, One awake, How am I to choose a place?
The smell of lotus flowers fill my nose, Shade rains down on me, like a cool hose, The tree that my back is propped up on is no longer prickly, I no longer feel sickly. My body is deprived of sleep, Now the senses I take in weep, As I try to cross the border into dreams.
Just beyond my shadowed spot, The sun shines bright, very hot. In the field where I sit, Hundreds of flowers call it home. That is the only place I have ever known. In-between thoughts, I slip to sleep, the only place I can fit, Comfortably.
Magical Antics
One with no arm, One with no head, As the magic maniacs get ready for bed, Lights are shut off, In our large suite, However lonely we are not, we cannot produce any beautiful feats.
The rest of our kind, Can slay with a thought, or even fly. Us? Mere parlor tricks, We try and try but there is no fix.
We are different and special, in our own way, Just like the prehistoric fae. Their magic was limited, their thoughts the end. The humans are threatening and they swear the day away, Threatening to take their head off and place it on a tray.
A giggle sounds in the dark, Fear splices my brain, but Ahh it’s just my dear friend Clark.
The Secret Of Anne McPoud
What is the secret of Anne McPuoud? Well rumor has it that she skipped town. She and her prom queen crown.
I hated that girl, She made me hurl, From the horrible stench Of her ego.
What happened? No one knows, no one cares Just like looking at one out of a head of hair.
Well I did it And it did it well.
I couldn’t shake the story from my lips As my important speech came forward I said this. I had admitted what I had done, And on me was pulled a gun.
1 knife, 1 crown, I guess that’s enough to change this whole damn town.
(I won’t be writing for the next month, off at overnight camp!h
The Tree Of Love
BOOM! As the tree of love fell to the ground, My heart tucked far away in my chest, nowhere to be found. The leaves of romance and other relations Fell Like the land of war torn nations.
However, out of the dead, beauty can be found. Flowers grow from the depths of the tree, Moss covered roots whisper in glee. The music and magic of the forest is all around, Like a voice An unstoppable choice.
Natures role takes a toll, No longer is the world ruled by men, Nature wakes us all up like the crow of a hen, Aware of love and the change world Opening up like one big pearl. CRACK!
Pulling The Trigger… Metaphorically
I didn’t know what else to do. He hurt me and broke my heart again and again and again. It started with a mild push, but as we all know, push turns to shove out of nowhere. He was going to kill me. He wouldn’t let off my throat. I pulled a knife from the rack and stabbed him before my vision went back. I woke up and his dead body was draped over mine. I screamed and panicked and knew I would go to jail. I couldn’t.
I took his body and buried it in the woods. I don’t want to hear any of that stereotypical BS. A body in the water would decompose and float to the top. I would be found out. I did what I had too. I told people he was skipping town for being found with drugs but he was dead.
It ate away at me for years. I visited his grace every time I could. I regret killing him but it was absolutely and only in self defense. One day I snapped. I couldn’t keep this secret anymore. I marched my way into the police headquarters and told the front desk man “I killed someone.” And as the cuffs snapped on my wrist, waiting to go to the interrogation room, I was glad I told someone…