Home. Most think of warm fuzzy feelings, a place of belonging, the place to go after a long stressful day.
Home. A place I’ve come to dread. A place devoid of oxygen. A place, in which, I am gasping for air through collapsing lungs. A town full of ghosts stuck in a loop of the same old things. Days are all the same, thoughts become recycled. Where everything is washed in a clouded grey. Where all that’s living is the mundane.
I don’t quite know when the change happened. It wasn’t always that way. Ignorance is bliss—a statement I never once understood, until I did. I wish more than anything that I could’ve turn back time to those simpler days.
As I attempted to separate myself and keep from becoming a ghost, I became wildly passionate about my career. I strongly believed that it might be my only way out of a place like that. The passion came easy, it consumed me like a burning fire. The flames big and bright added a new color among everyone else’s shades of grey that surrounded me.
But… as the alit flames engulfed me in the heat of passion, they also burned bridges around me. What little friends I did have quickly became strangers with grief-stricken faces, slowly fading into the crowds of ghosts that made up my “home”town.
With all my ties cut, I took my chance to escape. Left behind everything that had to do with the hellscape where I grew up. Escaped in search of a home like the movies depicted with warm fuzzy feelings and oxygen to feed my flames. In search of a true hometown rather than the scraps of a ghost town. And when I found it, Home, I drowned out the past like a clouded memory on a drunken night that probably never happened, or perhaps dismissed it simply as a figment of imagination.
Everything was put together with care. The box clutched tight in his grip while the wind swirled and whipped. The boy, of only 17, staggered through the chilled midnight air to the darkest crossroads in the tiny town he called home.
The boy paused once he stood in the middle of the intersection. He reached one hand in his pants pocket for the crumpled-up piece that detailed all the instructions he needed, whilst still holding firm to the box in his opposite arm.
He was unable to grab the note however because his head snapped to the sound of footsteps in the distance. He squinted his eyes to catch a glimpse, to maybe see shapes in the dark. He had no such luck until the figure drew closer to the stray dim lamppost.
As the creature dipped into the light, the boy’s heart stopped and his words caught in the back of his throat. The pale skin, dark circles, greasy hair—all familiar.
“You-You're… How are you—“ he stammered out as his lungs started to collapse within his chest. He tried to scramble away but his feet were glued solidly in place.
“Surprised?” The now revealed figure asked. He dragged out the word in a knowing manner. It made the boy sick to his stomach.
“I thought you were supposed to be some little red guy,” the words somehow found their way to the boy's mouth and left with a bite, “or disguised to be someone attractive and trustworthy looking. How—”
The devil smiled or more so sneered. It was unnerving. It unraveled the boy at the seams and stopped him dead in his tracks.
He forced the end of his sentance, “How are you me?”
Darling I’m doting on your smile Why don’t you come and stay awhile Please rest your aching bones Take a break from gold thrones
A fool you are for doubting yourself All while living on the high shelf Incapable to see Your potential like me
Delicately built, thoughtful mind The word perfect simply defined Brown eyes and blushing cheeks The highs of mountain peaks
One truly better than deserved A fantasy observed
It’s a crystal clear connection Heart threads tug, twist, and tangle together Fond flirting ‘til we fall fast asleep Our souls seek each other in a starlight slumber At morning break I’ll be right beside you
Sunrise secret, grateful glances Cup of coffee clutched warm in my hands Wistfully I wait for you to wake Fingertips tickle and trace against my skin Dimpled darling, I’ll be forever falling
This had become a normal occurrence. She would disagree with one of his proposals and he would wave that stupid photo in her face with a threatening smirk. It was always the same thing; something that had gone on way too long. He knew he could control her with that one simple photograph, it had been working for years. What he did not know, however, is that she was getting tired of it. Each time the photo was shoved in her nose it wore her down more and more and her composure was cracking. And this time she could not care less about his devilish smirk and the contents of the photo. She could not care less about her destroyed reputation that she had to uphold and the consequences. She was done. So his smirk and sharp eyes were met with a sickly sweet smile and an erect middle finger. As she turned on her heels and walked away. She walked out on her days as a slave to her own past mistakes and onto a new existence with peace of mind.
