It was gorgeous. Aros almost had to look away from the light. It was blinding, searing, probably ruining his eyesight, but he couldn't get enough. He laid there, soaking it all in. He felt like laughing. Surely Emma would laugh with him, but she was ahead of him.

Like always, he thought.

He wished he could stay there a bit longer. The light on his face. No pain could be felt. It didn't matter that his body was disfigured and broken, he felt finally free. Aros knew the time would come, and there couldn't be a better one.

No more fighting. No more shedding tears. No more lies. No more outbursts. No more manipulation. Just no more.

And it was just beautiful.

He wrapped Emma's body close to his chest as his eyes dropped.

She was just beautiful.

I COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND HUMANS

CORE MEMORY NO. I

The sun was bright in the meadow, a bit too bright in my standards, but it was cheery and warm enough to snap me out of my pitiful mood. Such sky and temperature was rather rare in the times where fall became winter. With my sketchbook, accompanied by my rubber and pencil, I laid with my stomach on the ground and my sketchbook open in front of me, swatting the bugs that buzzed near my ear. A bed of tulips was to my left and while I was marveling at their beauty, I took the time to draw them into my sketchbook for a forever memory of them. One line, one flick of my wrist, and the rest went smoothly.

“Ray?” A lazy voice called out to me from behind, causing me to jump. How focused was I to be spooked by such a familiar voice. More than familiar, really, if such could be possible.

I looked to my side to see him, reddish-brown hair and all, with a dumb grin on his face as he regarded me. The sunlight streaming through the clouds brightened his eyes and the amber in them glowed like a gem. “Whatcha doin’? We’ve been out here for about…twenty minutes. Are you still drawing?” He yawned, but propelled himself up to roll in the grass, clunkily, with his eyes closed once more, until he was flush against my side. I watched this and rolled my eyes when he opened his and grinned again at me. I wondered how his face didn’t hurt from all that smiling.

He made a grabbing motion with his hands. “Lemme see.”

I frowned and did the opposite; I shut my sketchbook closed, mindful of the pages, and tucked it beneath my stomach when he started to make a move for it.

“Oh, come on, Ray!” His eyes turned pleading, the sun’s rays causing them to lighten even more and glow in their full glory. His bottom lip trembled; even the freckles on his brown skin seemed to beg. It called all my attention and made me flush. I ignored my warming face, of course, and shook my head, remaining silent. “You’ve let me see other things—like that one of my mum—let me see some flowers.”

He was right, it was just flowers, which I drew all the time, and I had let him see portraits of other people I’ve drawn—however horrid and deformed they were—but the flowers weren’t what I was worried about. We had been out here for a long time, as he had said, and at the beginning of it, I wasn’t at all interested in the flowers—they hadn’t caught my attention.

No, I was interested in him.

And it was such a horrible sketch. After all the time I put into it, after all the times I looked up to draw him to perfection, my brain still couldn’t understand what a human looked like. Yes, I was young, but I should at least be able to draw arms and legs, not deformed things that branched out to look like the stems of plants and heads that looked like the petals on a flower. I had flipped over to the next page, to cover up my failure, and that was when the tulips had caught my eye. Flowers were much easier than human beings, in many regards.

And for that reason, for that horrible sketch, he could not ever get hold of my sketchbook. Until I could toss the sketch away, of course. I could never keep him away that long.

“No. And that is my final answer.” I stood, placing my sketchbook, rubber, and pencil all in my satchel, then holding my satchel close to my chest in case he ever thought to try to dupe me and snatch it. He stood as well, cringing when he saw the green stain that the grass had made on his shirt and trousers when he had rolled to me.

“Ah…that may be a problem.” He smiled sheepishly, sharing a look with me.

“We should be going back.” I cringe myself when his eyes turn sad. “To eat. To eat. It’s not like I want you to be in trouble.”

“Of course not, I know you, Ray.” He patted his lean stomach. “You know, I think you're right.”

“Am I?” I started to walk to where the meadow met with the dirt road to our town.

“Yeah.” He ran up to me and slung an arm over my shoulder. “You usually always are.”

And that made me smile. And other things that I would soon regret, started to bubble up in my stomach. It was this happy fluttering feeling that I felt.

That same feeling would be the one to destroy us both.

Finally, I’m going to be free. I’m going to be able to run without his chains dragging me back.

Soon I will speak of his manipulation and maybe he will pay the price rather than a slap on the wrist.

I will breath without him in the front of my mind. I will dance as a free woman. He took seven months of my life away from me. I’m going to take more. I’m ready to get dirt in my nails.

I’ve been growing my hair out and dressing like my mother so that I am no longer the young girl he groomed. Soon I’ll be able to braid my hair.

I just hope he gets what he deserves. I’m not asking for revenge. I’m telling you what happened. Do as you please.

——— Author’s Note: I’m sorry that this is short. It’s been a lot lately. I know this was kind of scattered. I’m exhausted even though I’ve been napping and resting for about three days.

Monday will bring change.

Pink and Purple fall The most glorious thing I have ever seen The dewy petals shimmer as they go The fog allows the sun rays to shine Like nothing I have seen before

You were my sunray You were my pink and purple You were the dew on my petals Like nothing I have seen before

Now you are gone This is all I have left of you

Even your garden is fading Still glorious on its way out Just like you

The winter is coming I will have no more pink and purple No more petals in the sun Just our old memories That’s all I need

You now have eternal sun

The love she has for herself Self-worth, humble and confident Others envy Her head held high, walking

Except she did it herself It’s not meant to be that Deserved comfort and care, she did But she was all she had

I remember when I was younger I lived next to the woods. Me and my sister spent most of our days running between the trees and splashing through the creeks, while the wind whipped through our hair in a frenzy and the branches slapped at our faces to scold us.

When we got older a building site wanted to destroy the forest for new houses, me and my sister were appalled, so we started a petition. We convinced people to sign it and eventually the operation got shut down. We kept the forest, rich in memories.

I stayed in my home town, and when my parents died in a car accident, I got to keep the house. So me and my boyfriend moved in, some people felt I was being disrespectful, living in their house right after their death. But it was what they wanted, after all, it was in their will.

When me and my boyfriend got married, it was a winters day. Snow was littering the hillside, painting the landscape in an angelic white, which glowed in the setting sun. We kissed under the arch while petals and snow danced in the air around us. My sister walked me down the aisle by my request. The band played well into the night, much longer than we had payed them for. And once everyone had left, me and my gorgeus new husband drove away in a car, letting all the world know we were married.

Me and my husband tried for children for years, but nothing worked. So we adopted a gorgeus baby named Saiba. I still remember bringing her home, her tiny hands reaching up, playing with the air, I remember the exact way the light made her brown eyes caramel. The feeling filled my heart with indescribable joy.

When Saiba brought home her twins for the first time I remember sitting them on my lap and letting them play with my hair. Their brown skin, a shade darker than Saibas, seemed to glow in the artificial light. And I swear I saw tiny halos glittering around their head.

Just a few weeks ago, me and my husband sat at the patio of our home. Staring at the flames leaping and dancing in the air, I reminisced at my life. My sister had died many years before, but I still held all our memories close to my heart. My grandchildren were in their twenties, but I will always see them as tiny angels. I leant my head on my husbands shoulder, our bones were brittle, and our faces wrinkled. But he managed to make me feel like a lovesick teenager again. I felt my heart fill with pride at the life I lived. If I could do anything differently, if I could intervene. I would still stand at the sidelines and watch.

So I lie here today, the beeping heart monitor next to my bed, remebering something my teacher taught me about death. “It is said, that in the final 7 minutes before we die, our brain relives the best memories, the ones we keep next to our heart.”

So I lie here today, reliving my best memories, and when I feel myself slipping off… I welcome death with open arms.

I always loved the snow. Growing up in a summery coastal town, it was only when I traveled that I ever got to see it. I fell in love with the way that it gathered so delicately on each tree bough, balanced so precisely on fenceposts and roof shingles. It robbed the world of color, but it paid back the theft in starkness, a blinding world of black and white.

I still love it, even now. The cold had long since stilled my limbs, and though it had hurt earlier, after hours being stuck in this tree well, I was blessedly numb. I watch with difficulty, as my eyelids are heavy now with snowflakes and fatigue, as the brilliant white sky lays more and more snow around my frostbitten body.

The silence is so heavy. I had never known that before today. It is a peaceful and welcome quiet. All I hear now is my slowing heartbeat and the gentle snowfall, a nearly imperceptible crackle of the tiniest pieces of ice.

My only regret is my closing eyes. I wish I could witness this snowstorm til the very end. But darkness bears down on me, and I fall asleep.

Opposites attracting is the only logic to her blood in the snow. The contrast is art. I curse myself for not bringing my camera. Her warm red fluids scattered across the pillows of snow.

Her ribcage is completely exposed except for her intestines that are strung up through the ribs like Christmas lights entangled in a tree.

I sat in my homemade museum, admiring the wonder before me. What a gift. She’s made a sacrifice all for me; all for me to have this mosaic of bones, brain, and organ in the snow rather than tile.

I know this freezing silence will end and I’ll be executed for my art. Till then, I will memorize the ripped skin on her thigh, her doll-like glassy eyes, and her backwards foot that has protruding sharp bones at the ankle.

A river flows through the canyon about the valley peacful

A volcano dormant or so you think lava bubbling up

A rain cloud on a ‘Fine’ day threatening to burst out in rain

A puddle still and silent unaware of trouble beyond

A Rain cloud tears dropping one by one a cloud relasing everything inside

A bush Hiding seceets no one can see prickling those who dare try

A tree Tall and strong Though easily cut down

A blade of Grass full of life used as a seat nevee recognized

Me A human being Alone and inconsolable I need a friend, someone to free me of this misery

RAYBURN

I regret many things in my life: some that I cannot control and also the ones I could. The fire; the meadow; the rain. Critical moments of my past that if not had happened, I wouldn’t be here now.

In a prison of my own making. Wishing for his amber eyes and his honest smile. For his hands smoothing the distress off my face and his laughter to rest my spirit.

Those are the only things I can wish, now.

Without the blazing fire, we would have never met.

   Without the windy meadow, we would have never fell in love. 

           Without the cold rain, we would have never been brought apart.

But wait.

I can’t really blame all of this on states of nature, can I? No, the only one to blame is myself. My wicked, crooked self.

If I had never been created, none of it would have happened.

The birth of a child; the birth of an evil creature.

——

THE FIRE THE MEADOW THE RAIN

I’m going to be writing three things under this title as the days go by. Not tonight ‘cause I feel blocked. This is the backstory for my two main characters in my soon to be fantasy romance novel Living Is A Strange Thing. I’ve talked about it before, though it was scattered and long ago. I’m trying to do better because I’m finally writing my manuscript. It will help if you offer advice and critique my work because I want this to become something when I’m older. Anyways, thanks for reading and stay tuned for more!

I’m actually pooped, I do not understand it.