Overwhelming embarrassment to the point take any escape.

I slink into the corners of your mind. I’m a shadow that everyone tries to hide.

I claw at your confidence. I rip apart your feelings. I tear at your wounds.

What am I? Take a guess. Maybe two.

I grab ahold of your trust. I’ll test it’s bounds. Did it break? Good.

I’ll travel down endless memories. Telling you what you’ve done wrong. I’ll remind you that you’re a mistake.

Can you guess?? Take a shot or two.

Afterall; I’ll be in your head. Pushing you along.

Pick up the bottle. Pick up the knife. Pick up the needle-

Pick it up. Pick it up. Just do it.

I’ll tell you that I know you want to. I’ll embed lies into your brain.

What am I? I’m Doubt. I’m Depression. I’m Self-hate.

I’m that dark puddle inside you. The one you dipped your hand into.

What am I? Oh… well…

I’m your demons. The voices you hear.

She is not like them. Quiet, shy, and simple, No. Brave, strong, with fire, You know.

Her eyes hold a flame, can’t look away. Her soul is on fire, can’t contain her rage.

Her heart stands full, will not break. Her hands are steady, never shake.

She is not like them. She is only Her.

Yes her eyes were blue like the ocean The ones people fall for over and over But your Amber eyes glisten in the night Being even brighter in the sunlight Your eyes of autumn glint in the day And shine bright with the moon and it’s great.

Her eyes carry storms and hold chaos While your eyes absorb the sunlight Leaving gold riches on the sides. Your eyes represent the deepest riches In the ground.

The world still has blue eyes as a favorite But your eyes make me grin and I love it.

So love your brown eyes as they brighten my day. And know your eyes being the tallest mountains to their knees.

bright silver hair that almost glows in the dark

shining starry eyes that holds many universes

bursting purple nails magic flows with every tap

beautiful gorgeous amazing but not perfect

(Part of "The Last Wolf Rider" series)

Lyria looked at herself in the mirror, her finger curling the silver streak of hair that framed her face. Lyria didn’t know why her hair, especially in that one spot, had turned silver but she didn’t mind it one bit as it always felt like she had a piece of Argenta with her. Argenta too, had begun to go darker in spots around her mane, a deep brown that almost perfectly matched Lyria’s own hair. It was as if the two of them had done more the just bonded that day in the woods all those years ago. It was if the two of them were connected by something that neither of them could fully understand. Lyria’s suspicions of something deeper were only bolstered as she gazed into her own eyes, those deep brown eyes, that were also lined with silver. Her irises were lined with a very thin, but very noticeable, silver line that Lyria sometimes found glowing when ever she looked close enough. Lyria had done some research back home to see if anyone of the past Kramora or past Wolven had anything similar. She almost spent everyday for about a week searching and ended with her almost wanting to burn the library down. Lyria turned from the mirror and strode over to the window. She smiles as she saw Argenta laying flat out on the grass, soaking up the sunlight. Her silver fur shimmering in the light making her a rare and breathtaking sight. Lyria chuckled as Argenta let out a sound similar to a snore. A nap would be lovely right now, Lyria thought as she jumped out the window. Lyria stoke across the grass, the coolness of the soft green blades feeling good against the warmth and tiredness of her feet. She laid down beside Argenta, the wolf merely raising her head in acknowledgement of Lyria’s presence. Lyria kissed Argenta’s nose and laid her head against the wolf’s shimmering silver fur. There in the afternoon sun, Lyria let the world disappear, as she drifted off in comforting sleep, the mysteries of her silver streak, fading back into her subconscious, a worry for another day.

(The silver streak in Lyria’s hair as well as the dark spots on Argenta are important to the story as well as the overall appearance of Lyria and Argenta.)

I stand before you with hopeful eyes Your edges are glistening, sharp as knives A familiar image nostalgia contorted Eyes empty pools, black, distorted Duality is opposites on the same thread Scales balanced, joy the bedfellow of dread A siphon of energy a thief in the night But is it really stealing, if I don’t fight I burned bright as the sun, a dying supernova Your handiwork imploded my false persona Shockwaves echo even now that you’re gone Madonna’s mask erased, no longer a fawn Awakened dark mistress arose from the flames A fool turned Empress no longer ashamed You mirrored shadows, reflected my wounds A torch of destruction annihilated this tomb Towers crumbled foundations upended The star in a vacuum, broken, rejected

I am missing an arm. It sounds so careless. I didn't set it down and lose it like some treasured thing that I didn't look after. No it was stolen from me. The Cata took it right at the elbow. But I got even. I took it back.

I don't miss my arm. I'm sure everyone who is missing a hand or a leg or anything would say that. In my case it is true. It happened so long ago that I have grown accustomed to it. I once saw a fox in a field. It was short a front leg. It looked up at me and for a moment there was a pause, then it slipped back into the shadows as quiet as it came. It was so agile and swift that you would hardly think that it was missing anything.

There are disadvatages. Balance. Sometimes I move differently to keep my balance. And there is something bad about relying on the left. Some people look down on me because almost everything I do I do with my left arm. God create bath so I don't understand that thought. It makes so sense why my right would be good and my left would be bad. It's just an arm. But people are hard. They believe strange things at times.

I don't tell people that my arm is always there. That might scare them. I feel it. It is as if it was never stolen from me. It points. I guides me. Sometimes I forget that I am around others and I need to stop for a second before I reach for things. I need to remember to use tha hand that is seen intstead of that is not. But it can reach out and feel as if it was there. And in really challenging times it is there. Sometimes, when it is dark but the moon is out, I can even see it. I can feel her light traveling across its surface, a cold sensation that brings a glow of its own warmth.

So don't judge me. Don't feel sorry for me. Many years ago, as a child, I painfully and brutally lost a part of me to a thoughtless beast looking for dinner. But I survived and I'm stronger now. And that part of me has never fully left me.

A lot of people have heard tell of the Goatman. Up around Pope Lick Crick, there were stories about a half man half goat who was a traumatized circus freak who took refuge under a trestle and jumped out at cars with an axe. The Poke Lick Monster mostly just encourages young fools to hang around an old bridge and young slow fools to get hit by freight trains. There is the Goatman of Lake Worth who as far as I can recall is some kind of tire-throwing environmentalist. And Prince George’s County has a creature allegedly caused by a bizarre science experiment who stalks lovers’ lanes and kills puppies. This goat creature has a human head on a very hairy body so in my books that could just be a creep. Then there is the righteous vengeance of the Alston County Goatman but that is a story for another time. No, this is the story of Lonnie, the goat boy of Bent Fork. Lonnie was a normal baby, six pounds and nine ounce, silky auburn curls, dimples, and horizontal slits for pupils. He made the news and the medical journals. Lonnie was a big deal then a curiosity and then a baby girl over in San Chaquito was born with horns and Lonnie dropped off the media cycle. For a while the families of Bent Fork avoided the Parkers. There were whispers at the Piggly Wiggly and sneers at Mount Carmel Baptist. The kids were worse than the parents. Mild mannered and studious, Lonnie learned to wear dark glasses and take a beating. Eventually Bent Fork got used to goat boy. He’s was no one’s close friend, no one’s sweetheart but everyone had to admit the boy was dependable and very helpful. By the time Lonnie got corrective contacts and started studying political science at Southern the town thought Lonnie would make a name for himself one day. Bent Fork forgot, but Lonnie never did. Lonnie was an Eagle Scout and delivered hot meals to the elderly. He never forgot a punch. Lonnie always raked the neighbors’ leaves and organize a Clean the Parks day. But he never forgot a slight. Lonnie joined the police force after undergraduate school and organized a toy drive. When the disappearances started Lonnie worked extra shifts to make sure the school children made it home safely. Bent Fork forgot Lonnie all together. Families bought guns and locks. Mayor Tutrell established a curfew. Calls were made on any strange faces in town. Posters stapled to trees faded. Bent Fork trembled. Bent Fork forgot goat boys grow into Goatmen.

I’ve often been told that my “disability” is a blessing in disguise. I’ve yet to see it as a blessing or a disability. It neither harms or benefits my health. I’m able to live a relatively normal life, but only if I follow the rules set in place.

Keep my hair down at all times when in public spaces. If the weather is anything but fair, bring an umbrella or a hat. As long as my ear is not revealed, that’s what matters. Which sadly means that I can’t go swimming whenever I want or ride rollercoasters. There was one incident when my 4 year old sister pulled on my hair while we were in a restaurant, and by my mother’s reaction, you would have thought she had seen a ghost.

I was born seemingly healthy, weighing 7 lbs and 8 oz. Immediately the nurses and doctors noticed that something was off. My right ear was unusually large. It was the size of an teenager’s ear and I was a newborn baby. My parents were freaked, especially my mother. She demanded the doctors run tests to figure out what was wrong. A nurse told my mom that I was healthy as a horse and my “defect” was not a result of any serious condition. “I don’t understand! Where could this have come from?” she had asked.

Currently I’m 16 years old and have adapted to living with this. My left ear is normal for a person my age. My right ear on the other hand, is almost the size of my hand. It’s slightly more pointed and has a pinkish tint. My mother was always worried about what people would think, so she always kept it hidden under a wig or a hat. I know she loves me, and I also know that she is a control freak. Being a control freak and having a daughter with something like this was difficult for her to deal with. Yet I go to school, I work as a cashier and I try my best not to let it control MY life.

“I’ve been married to you for 16 years Bryan. 16 year!” After my mother screams, I hear glass break downstairs. “Get out, get out!” I slowly open my bedroom door to sit in the hallway near the stairs. “You’re behaving like a maniac! This is uncalled for, Cassie.” “You lied to me. Our daughter is a freak because of you! You had the same condition but chose to lie about it.” “Shh! She’s upstairs! She probably heard because of your yelling!” “Doesn’t really matter now does it, Bryan. You managed to get plastic surgery so you could be normal. I guess that made you feel so normal, that you didn’t need to tell your WIFE! Your DAUGHTER?!”

I cover my mouth to prevent the sobs from being heard. Tears fall down my face as I slowly slide up against the wall. I walk down the stairs as I wipe my face a few times. I walk towards the kitchen and see my parents. “Really Dad?” He covers his face with his hand and cries. “Look what you’ve done to her Bryan.” I walk towards my mom. “To who, mom? To your freak daughter?”