“the boy who cried i wanna see Justin Bieber live!”

• a poem based on the boy who cried wolf.

it was early in the morning, and the sun began to rise, the little boy at the end of the road wanted to give his neighbours a suprise.

he cried and he cried, help me, help me, i need to see justin live! “the tickets are for sale, and soon they will run out fast!” so all the neighbours ran to him in the quickest dash.

“we will get you those tickets!” all rhe neighbours cried, untill they saw the look on his face, and realised he had lied.

“haha, haha, he’s not even on tour, he hasn’t even put out and album in years how were you all so sure!” the neighbours rolled their eyes and walked home to where they stayed, untill they were woken up the next morning by a bot who sounded afraid.

“please please, i promise it’s real this time! justin is going on tour, and i’m the last in line!” the neighbours came rushing down to help the poor old boy. untill they saw him laughing, his face just filled with joy.

“i tricked you, i tricked you! i tricked to all twice ! justin isnt going on tour, just take my advice!”

he laughed and laughed as the neighbours sighed, whilst promising themselves they wouldn’t fall for the third time.

but overnight justin made a plan, one last surprise album rhat nothing would be better than.

the boy gasped when he saw the tour, “justin’s going on tour and i’ve gotta get tickets for the floor!!!” the boy cried and no body came, as the final ticket was sold and it would never be the same.

I live with my stepfather and his sons.

My mother died years ago.

And I’m the main person in charge of everything going on in the house, meaning that I cook, I clean, I wash the clothes and do the dishes, etc.

I’ve been called multiple times a “Cinderella Case” by my somewhat friend Tobias because of my predicament, and I find it rather annoying. Sure, my life isn’t the perfected one that most everyone wants to live, but my stepfather hardly watches me, which means I can basically do whatever I want when I get out of school. My stepbrothers are the only ones who cause me trouble, really, and I just ignore them anyway.

I’m at lunch right now, finishing the last of my math homework so I don’t have to pull it out at home. If my stepbrothers don’t find it, the cat does.

When I get to the last question on the sheet, Tobias shows up with a nervous look on his face. When he sits down and sees the homework on the table, he rolls his eyes. “Really, E-man? Homework?”

“I’ve told you several times not to call me that nickname, Tobias.”

“I’ll stop if you stop. Come on man, just call me Tobi.”

I raise my eyebrows, unfazed. “Make me.”

We stare at each other for one heartbeat, two, three, four, until Tobias turns away and puts a palm over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut.

“You sick or something?” I go back to my homework, but keep my ears on him.

“No—no. At least I don’t think so. Yet, anyway.” He clears his throat then places his hands down on the table, his lunch forgotten in his lunchbox beside him. “Hey, E-ma—Evan, are you going to the Snow Ball?”

I blink. Happening next week on Saturday, the Snow Ball dance is a social outing where members of the school go and dance for around four hours in the cafeteria. During those four hours, all they do is eat, dance, flaunt, and gossip. Knowing this, I have my answer.

“No.” A thought pops into my head. “Were you just asking me this so you could be my “fairy godmother” and whisk me off to the ball if my stepfather said no?”

He stammers. “Well—no—not your fairy godmother. Maybe, like the pr—”

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, Tobias, but you yourself know how much I hate dances, so I’m not going. Never. Ever. ‘Till the end of time.”

The bell rings and students start to rise from their seats and head towards the nearest trash can. Tobias stays seated, looking at me with hurt in his eyes. For some reason, I care, very much, but I don’t say anything.

“See you later when I pick you up, Tobias.”

He says nothing in response.

＊＊＊

“Is that all for your order, sir?”

“Yes,” I say into the speaker, slightly annoyed at the drive through man who seems to be slower than a snail, “Yes, that’s all.”

“Aaalrighty then, your total is six seventy-five. Pay at the next window.”

“Thank you.” I move my car forward and put my hand out, palm up. A quiet Tobias—which is uncommon and honestly a bit frightening—hands me his debit card. I pay for the food at the window. He takes his card from my hand limply, usually he snatches it in a playful manner.

When we leave the drive through and arrive at his house, I snap.

“What’s wrong with you, Tobias?”

He lifts his head, confused. “Huh?”

“Why are you—why—“ Where are my words? “Why are you so mopey right now? You weren’t at school.”

He purses his lips in thought, then his eyes widen and he looks me. “I asked someone to the ball today. And they declined.”

Oh, of course it isn’t anything serious. This is Tobias, perfect rich boy we’re talking about.

“Okay. Then ask someone else.”

Tobias looks less mopey now, and more…hopeful? “No, I don’t want to. I like them very much and have for a long time. I don’t think they know though.”

“Who is it?”

He smiles at me. “You know them.” And that’s all, then he moves onto the next topic of the conversation. “I want you to help me ask them again, but in a better way.”

I open my burger, suddenly hungry. “How? They already said no.”

“But I’m sure—oh yeah, I forgot we have food—“ He gets his fires out and eats them slowly as he continues. “I’m sure they’ll say yes after the surprise.”

“So, you want me to be your fairy godmother? And you, my Cinderella.”

Tobias nods, then hesitantly reaches over and pats my leg. One, two, sit. Why am I counting this? His hand feels nice and warm, so I let is sit there as he answers. “Yeah! I know I probably should’ve thought of this a long time ago.”

“It’s fine, I know your brain can’t handle difficult problems that quickly.”

“I’m going to ignore that. But, Evan,” my name in his mouth gives me a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, “this would help me out a TON, dude.” He takes my shoulders and shakes me playfully. “Come. On. Man. Please!”

“Well,” I brush his hands off of me, “I was going to say yes before you shook me.”

His eyes widen.

“But, I’m going to ignore that—quoting you—and help you with your problem.”

Tobias grins. “Thanks man! You won’t regret it!”

“I better not.”

＊＊＊

A week later, the day before the Snow Ball, I have all my materials ready. Bought by Tobias’ card of course. He invited me to come over to his house, his mansion really, to talk over the plan we created.

 1. Have outfit ready

 2. Ride out in his car, which will be decorated like a pumpkin

 3. Approach the crush and ask—in front of every body—for a dance

 4. If the crush says yes, dance the night away

Tobias and I are on his bed, the notebook in front of us. He smiles, stroking the edge of a page with his pointer finger. “Perfect.” He pokes me with that same finger, laughing when I bat his hands away. He sighs, looking at me wistfully, then drops his gaze back to the paper. “I hope this works.”

“I do so too, then you’ll have someone else to bother besides me.” But this ugly feeling is deep inside of me, clawing at my stomach. “Ugh. I think I’m sick.”

“No!” Tobias’ voice is serious. “You can’t be sick—how am I going to—I mean, I can’t do this without you.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, it’s not like I’m going to be there. The fairy godmother wasn’t there for Cinderella, was she?”

Tobias goes quiet at that. He sighs, “Yeah…I guess so.”

“All you have to remember is the plan and it’ll be fine,” I continue, rising from the bed to reach for my shoes, “I, on the other hand, am going to watch the rest of my show after I finish cleaning up tomorrow.”

A hand grabs my wrist, tightly, pulling me back onto the bed. Tobias is red, his hands holding my wrists, and our chests together as we lay on our sides. It doesn’t seem like he’s breathing, but neither am I.

“Er. I didn’t mean to do that. I just…I just didn’t want you to go,” he says, voice low and his breath tickling the bridge my nose.

“You could have just verbally communicated that.”

“Yeah, I guess I could’ve.” His grip on me doesn’t loosen; it does the opposite. “Evan, say you’ll be there, and I’ll let you go.”

I frown. I’m not going to that ball. Like I said before: Never. Ever. ‘Till the end of time.

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

“You wanna test that theory?”

“I’d annoy you to death.”

“Evan, you already do, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“I suppose you are. Fine. I’ll help.”

He lets me go, and I leave the bed r finally grab my shoes. While I place them on, I say, “But I’m only staying until eight. Then I leave.”

Tobias shakes his head. “The ball starts at seven. You’ll only be there for an hour; that’s not enough time.”

“I know when it starts, and you’ll have plenty of time to ask your crush and get a dance or two.” Steeled in my resolve, I stand by the door, waiting for Tobias to put his own shoes on. He doesn’t. Instead, he stares at me from the bed with a look that has been coming more frequently these past few days.

“Nine.” He presses.

Ah. So we’re playing this game.

Despite myself, I grin. Tobias’ mouth twitches and his eyes search my face expectantly. What’s he trying to find? A weakness?

“Eight.” I repeat.

“H-how about eight thirty. Splitting half and half. Does that work with your time?”

I pause dramatically to pull on the suspense. Debating is a love of mine, I love being right and I love the rush to win next time when I lose. This time, it’s a draw.

“Deal. Now drive me home, Tobias.”

He almost falls off his bed in eagerness. A part of me wishes that he didn’t want to go to the ball. That he wanted to stay with me and stay up all night in my room watching my British murder shows and getting full on nothing but popcorn and the sounds of our gasps.

There I go again.

＊＊＊

The cafeteria is loud. Loud, crowded, and loud.

Oh, did I say loud, already?

Tobias isn’t here yet, so I go out the doors to the outside section of the party to wait for him. I check the time on my phone: ７：１２. He’s late, he said he’d get here by seven o’ five.

Just when I’m about to go inside, I hear a familiar car and see bright shade of orange. Students watch as the pumpkin car parks beside the grass and the driver steps out of the car in a dazzling shade of blue.

Perfect, I think, looking around at the crowd that has formed, if his crush is here, no doubt they are amazed.

I expect him to walk past me after giving me a glance, but he continues on forward, a smile on his face and something clutched in his hand. The crowd parts for him, and they all watch as he comes to a stop in front of me.

“I have traveled all throughout the land to find my true love,” Tobias booms in a theatrical voice to the crowd before tuning back to me. No doubt my face is stunned. Why is he…?

“My true love, who left this bracelet the night I fell in love with him.” He opens his hand and I see a D.I.Y bracelet with four square beads draped on it. The letters spell my name.

E-V-A-N.

“And now, I have found him,” the crowd is quiet, watching the show. I feel a bit queasy, but when I look up to see Tobias smiling at me, his outfit complimenting his skin wonderfully, that feeling is replaced by something else. “We must see if the bracelet fits—don’t you all think so?”

The crowd cheers as he places his hand out in question. I give him my wrist. The bracelet slides on nicely, hugging to my wrist like a second skin. He throws his hands up and yells triumphantly—

“It fits!”

And as the crowd goes wild, I mutter to him. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Tobias gives me a smile, then leans down to kiss my cheek. I blush. Furious at my reaction, I cover my face.

“Of course.” He kisses me again, happy.

But let me just tell you—

I, respectfully, am not Cinderella.

You’ve heard of the magical tales of mermaids and princes or unicorns and wizards. I suppose my favorite has to be the most classic of them all: Cinderella. In some way this movie is a little tragic, but who doesn’t love good prince saving romance. But I have a question. What would a modern day Cinderella look like? Would it be a wealthy ceo falling for a lowly janitor? I have a better question. Would it be the man and the women who comes to save the other?

⚠️Allusions towards rape and murder⚠️

It was the afternoon, and Harrison Elementary School was bustling with activity. Parents were picking up their young children, other students were rushing onto the buses, and teachers chatted while they stood monitoring the students.

Holly wasn’t part of any of this, no, the little second grader sat on a bench, right by the bike stand outside of the campus, and waited. Her hearing aids turned down to block out the noise of the roaring bus engines and the shouts of the crowd.

The little girl, dark skin and braids, was quite patient when waiting for her mother. Sometimes, it would be dark when her mother would remember her and bring her back home. On those days, Holly stayed with the principal until she came.

Today, though, Holly knew her mother was going to pick her up. Grayson told her so, and today was Holly’s birthday. Her mother said that they were going to watch a movie of her choice.

So, Holly was extra patient that day. Grayson sat next to her as the two of them watched cars roll by and out of the driveway. She could always hear Grayson, hearing aids on or not. He lived inside her head.

“Mommy will be here soon, right Grayson?” Holly turned to her shadowy friend for reassurance.

Yes. She will; how could she forget you on your birthday?

——

**_There’s a child there Bring her here With care

Bring her to me Warm body and all So that I may be full Fuller than all_**

——

Holly was done being patient. Her mother had forgotten about her again. The girl’s face and eyes grew hot, and she was on the verge of tears.

“No!” She exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut. “I will not cry. If Mommy won’t pick me up, then I will just walk home!”

Grayson shook his head. That is not a good idea, Holly.

Holly ignored him and shifted her bookbag on her back. She ran to the sidewalk across the street, Grayson followed behind her.

The girl remembered the way. All she had to do was go straight until she saw her neighborhood sign. Then she would be home!

Holly, we should go back.

Holly spinned on the balls of her feet to face Grayson head on. “I’m the birthday girl,” she said, as her reasoning, “You have to do whatever I want to do.”

Grayson fell silent. I suppose so. He looked up to the sky. But we should make it before 5, alright?”

“We will!” Holly said cheerfully, turning the knob up on her hearing aids. She ran off suddenly then, and stopped at the crosswalk.

Grayson groaned. Look both ways, will you?

——

**_There she goes Across the road In the woods Were the wind blows

Will she find us Will she go Down the path Hidden in the grove?_**

——

Holly, Grayson warned, his shadowy figure glancing around at the tall, thick pined trees surrounding them, where are we going?

“It’s just a short cut, Grayson, remember, we went this way on one of our school trips—oh! I don’t remember this being here.”

Holly….

The girl stared in awe at the perfectly manicured grove in front of her. It had a dirt trail in the middle of it and the cared-for trees were controlled with a white, tall fence that were made of metal.

It was beautiful, but the chirps of the wildlife living in those trees were not. Holly turned her hearing aids fully off again and started down the path in front of her.

Holly!

“It’s okay, Grayson,” she smiled as she walked, “it’s my birthday, and it’s not like Mommy’s gonna get me a present, anyways.”

Grayson, once again silent, followed her deeper into the forest. He, and Holly, observed their surroundings so they could remember their way back.

Holly marked a few trees with a black marker from her bookbag as she passed. Not the ones behind the fences, that would be rude; they were too pretty to do that to.

Holly hummed herself a little song, not noticing the tall figure behind her.

——

**_Here she comes! Here she comes! Down the path To us

Soon we shall know Her taste And the beauty of Her blood

Quicker! COME QUICKER! For we await Our meal _** ——

Holly stopped when a pretty looking cabin was at the end of the path.

“Should I knock, Grayson?”

No, he answered quickly, you know that.

“I know,” she responded, “but I want to. Just wait and let me turn my hearing aids back—“

Thwack! A hard material slammed into Holly’s head, causing her body to collapse onto the dirt ground. Her body was splayed out, Grayson was gone, and the pursuer grabbed onto Holly’s limp legs. They dragged her to their cabin to do what they had intended to do from the start.

——

“There’s black marker on some of the trees, Ms. Pey, it seems that she might have went this way,” mumured an officer.

Ms. Pey did not answer back. Her face was crumpled and tears brought black streaks onto her cheeks as it ran through her thick mascara. “I should have been there,” she whimpered, “I should have been early.”

“HEY! OVER HERE! I FOUND SOMETHING!”

The officers, leaving a shaking Ms. Pey momentarily behind, raced towards their unit. It was a creek.

A creek with a bloodied bookbag in the deepest part of it.

A creek with twisted, broken hearing aids on its bank.

A creek with the equally soiled, ripped clothes and underclothes of the second grade girl.

But the one thing the creek did not have…

Was Holly Pey.

(So, this is based off a tale you should know and a short film I saw a long while ago. I forgot what it was called, but it was about a child who decided to walk home after she didn’t see the message her mother texted her because she turned down her hearing aids. She had the same fate as Holly Pey. Anyways, what tale do you think it is, and what do you think Grayson is?

Thanks for reading, and have a great day! 😊)

Another teal dart smacks right in the center of the board. Her friend stares in awe, standing up to give it a shot. She prepares her arm, putting it in a throwing position. Her arm comes forward and she let's go. The dart soars in an arch and land on the wall underneath the board.

"Darn it!" She snaps in frustration, stomping to the chair and plopping down in anger.

"Your fault, not the dart," she flips one of her red locks over her shoulder, "guess you aren't as good as me."

Her nostrils flare and she grumbles, "No dip, sherlock."

"Anyways," she looks around unsure of what to entertain her friend with, "want to go get a drink?"

"I've never ordered before. Choose anything for me, i wont mind. And if you have to prove you're of age," she digs into her mini purse, "here is my drivers license."

While her friend orders, she is too busy watching men throw darts. They tend to miss the bulls-eye every time. Pathetic. One man throws and it gets in the 10 zone. Finally, she can't have it and walks over.

"You guys are pathetic," she growls, "I could beat all of you "

They all look at her like she is 3. Finally, a bald man in rugged jeans and a random T-shirt comes over.

"Whats your name, little lady?" He spits in her face.

"Merida!" She spits.

He gives a sly grin and booms, "Alright, whoever wins is given 100 dollars from each of you. And...Merida's hand. Only if the lady is alright with that."

She give a determined nod and takes off her leather jacket to reveal her ACDC shirt. Taking a hairtie from her wrist, she wraps her hair up into a messy bun.

Her first throw was a nervous slip up. Merida's sweaty palms made the dart fly onto a 10 section of the board. Which wasn't bad if she got better. The smacked right by the bulls-eye, barley missing.

Then, while everyone was getting no higher than 70, she got 4 100s in a row. It wasn't hard to realize she won.

"I wasn't going to marry you fools. I was gonna win either way," she gloated while collecting her hundred dollars, "y'all are at least 30 and single. Pathetic."

She headed back to her friend and noticed the drinks had arrived. Merida's friend jumped up and hugged her.

"I was scared for a mintue, but you slayed girl!" She giggled.

Merida grabbed the beer bottle that was sitting there for her and took a swig. It tasted like a dead mouse and apples were rotting in her mouth. She spit it out on the ground. The after taste was putrid. Luckily she didn't barf.

"Well, I'mnamed Merida for a reason."

“HELP!!” I scream from my room. “HELP! THEY’LL KILL ME!!!” I hear them thump down the hall as I sit on the ledge of my window. The hoard of maids and guards that come when I call burst through the door. I push myself out the window, letting out a blood cuddling scream. As I fall, I can imagine the gasps of horror as they watch me plummet. Everyone always forgets I can’t die. When my back hits the ground, I pretend to be dead. It’s too funny. I wait a few minutes for them to find me, but soon enough, my maid, Lilian, cradles me. I hear her crying as she holds me. Stupid. I open my eyes and yell. “BOO!” She screams, stumbling back. I cackle with laughter. “Julian!” She screeches. “Dont keep scarring us like that!” “Why?” She shakes her head. “Ever since the whiches went missing, your father’s been worried! What if suddenly, you CAN die? What if the spells are reversed?” I roll my eyes. She takes my hand and walks me to the castle. I’m about to shake her off when she looks me in the eyes. “Next time you call, we are not coming.” Her voice is stern and I can tell she’s trying to scare me. All it really means though, is that my little game is over. I’ll find something else to do.

Night drifts in, the sun setting outside. Lilian told me to be in bed half an hour ago, but I’m not tired. I had taken the darts from my fathers dart board earlier, and now, I throw them at my door, back to my window. THUNK. I hit the little makeshift target dead centre. THUNK. I sigh, wishing I was tired now, because this is getting boring. I throw the last dart. THUNNKK. The noise is so loud, I’m sure my dart couldn’t have made it. I whip around to see a shadowed figure standing on my window ledge, blade at his hip. “Hey! Get out of my room!” I shout. Candle light glints of his smile. “Rude. Demanding. Just like your father.” Says the man. I feel a knot gather in my chest. “I am the high prince of the realm. Listen to me!” “No.” “Who is it that you claim to be, that you can defy me?” I ask. Then he steps into the light where I can clearly see him. Shock suddenly fills me at the sight. “You’re… you’re a WOMAN?” This seems to make her angry. She draws the long, sharp blade from her hip, and I see the light glint off of it. “Are you afraid, little princeling?” She asks, a growl in her voice, and I laugh. They want to kill me. “No!” I reply, feeling confident. “You CANT kill me! How stupid are you?” Suddenly, the blade is at my throat, point pressed against my neck. I feel a prick, and a single drop of blood falls down my neck. It’s so small, but I know this must be pain. It stings like nothing I’ve ever felt. I’ve never bled a drop until now, and a true terror shoots through me. It must register on my face, because the woman smiles. “Are you afraid NOW?” She asks, and I scream. “HELP! HELP ME!! SOMEONE, PLEASE!!” No one comes though. I’m hysterical. Tears flow, and my eyes burn, for I’ve never had the need to cry so much before. The woman slowly traces the blade down my chest, causing a thin cut to form before the tip rests over my heart. Then, without hesitation, she buries the sword in my chest. I let out a scream to rival any other. It pierces the silence of the night, and rings out across the land. As though my own pain was causing the world agony, the trees outside fall, and the grass turns to black. The lakes dry up suddenly, and mountains crumble in the distance. I keel over, my body curving in around the blade. Maybe it was to my disadvantage that I never knew what hurting felt like, because in this moment, I am crushed by the weight of this new feeling. Blood runs across the wooden floor, flowing over my pale fingers, and the last thing that crosses my mind before I die is that no one came. They must have thought it another joke. It is my own fault, this cruel fate of mine. Mine and mine alone.

She leaned against the wall outside the club, tears pouring out of her eyes. Her cheeks were turning red and raw in the cold of this winter night.

She had just run out after seeing her boyfriend touching foreheads with a pretty, white, blond girl. He was smiling wide. The image haunted her. It was a smile that she thought was only reserved for her.

A few minutes later, she saw him walk out, dazed, looking for her. She saw a hickey on his neck. She felt nauseous. She ran down the block before he could see her and turned the corner, sinking to the ground, hyperventilating.

A man turned the corner, wearing a nice, pressed white button down and jeans. She grabbed the pepper spray hanging off her keys.

“Hey, are you okay?” He said warmly, kneeling down in front of her.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said shortly, turning her head away from him.

“You don’t look fine.” He said sympathetically. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it up to her.

“I’m good, thank you.” She said quickly. He sighed and sat down next to her. She wished he would go. She wanted to have her pity party all to herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He said. No, she didn’t. She didn’t want to think about it at all.

“Thanks but I have…” she started, “…a boyfriend.” She said bitterly. He held his hands up in surrender.

“Me too,” he laughed, “I just wanted to see if I could help.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling slightly better. At least the man didn’t have ulterior motives. She loosened her grip on the pepper spray.

“It’s fine, I can handle it. You should go back to your boyfriend.” She didn’t need anyone’s help, and she wanted to be alone.

“I don’t want to leave you alone out here. Is your boyfriend around? Maybe I can go find him.”

“No he’s a little preoccupied.” She spat. He sensed her tone.

“Uh oh,” he sighed, “boyfriend did something, didn’t he?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She said desperately, her voice cracking as she held back angry tears.

“Okay sorry, sorry, don’t cry,” he said quickly, patting her shoulder. She sighed. He was being so nice.

“No it’s fine, I appreciate your help. But you’re right, I should get back.” She had no intention of going back to the club, but she still wanted to get rid of him and be alone. She started to get up, but he jumped up quickly and offered his hand. She took it and let him pull her up.

“Well, listen, you seem like an awesome person. You look hot, and your boyfriend is an idiot if he doesn’t see that.” He said reassuringly, squeezing her hand.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t help but crack a small smile. At least there were still good people in the world.

“Do you want a hug?” He said warmly. She nodded wordlessly, looking down. He hugged her, squeezing her tight. It was a comforting hug. She wrapped her arms around his torso too.

Then, she felt his hand on her butt. She quickly pushed him away.

“Hey!” she said, but he had taken off. She felt a sense of dread as she touched the back pocket of her jeans, empty. Her phone and wallet were gone.

She went to chase after him, running as fast as she could in her heels, but got stopped at the next light. Cars poured into the intersection, blocking her view. Two minutes later, they cleared up and the crosswalk light turned on. The thief was long gone. She screamed and pulled at her hair in frustration.

She stomped back towards the club, scowling, knowing that she’d need her boyfriend’s help to get home now. She’d learned a valuable lesson - don’t let flattery cloud your judgment.

Writing this subject, what did I do? A fluent exchange to wake up like a fire spreading throughout the forests like different tourists looking for the tour to band. I am a fan of butterscotch candy while sitting in church just thinking about things while the taste simmer down in the mouth of watery breaks. I’ll do whatever it takes to get my mind right. A conscious individual thinking about getting it right before I’m out of time and I don’t know how much is left like leftovers not warming up itself. I continue to write like it’s my last chance. I just don’t ban anyone just because they have a problem, I just don’t do it because everyone needs help out here in the world today. You can’t help everyone right? I write as a thinker who doesn’t mind writing his behind off like it’s his last opportunity. Strong determination and skill for real or for sure, I’m not afraid to step up, but being hesitant is another level of distraction which hurts in the process of you needing to grow because of what you bought into your perspective of living the right way. Show love equally toward one another it is hard work, dedication, and full of life experiences.

KGA

[DISCLAIMER: I will be finishing and changing it up some more later, but decided to let it be a sneak peek for now! ❤️ The Era will definitely be changing! Stay tuned!]

To my beautiful sister, this one is for you. 🤍❤️

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Red rushed through the midnight-black skies, her eyes flicking side-to-side with alarm, as the howling wind called out to her terrified self. The branches dipped their leaves down low, and swayed to the wind’s ominous melody as her fast-footed steps barreled through the deep prickly-thicket while her scarlet-hood flew behind her with haste. Her poofy, beige-white hair had a creamy look, due to the moon’s silver-touched haze, and her eyes a fierce, yet glimmering redstone-color that pierced into the blackened night and kept her aureolin-yellow-boots from stumbling upon gnarled roots and sharp thorns.

She dared to swipe away the malicious branches and thick leaves that slapped her face and came looking for trouble as she bounded aimlessly into the disturbing night. She threw her head behind her, catching a glimpse of her sharp, white-toothed pursuers, who had enlarged fangs and a Cheshire-like grin plastered across their face, before whipping her head around and zooming into an open space she had perceived at a distance. Furthermore, she practically stumbled into the open space, her hand grazing against a sharp-edge of a trunk, before catching herself and pulling her 10-year-old frame behind the tree, momentarily ignoring the stinging sensation she sensed was coming from her hand.

Once the great shaking caused by the beastly silhouetted figures had passed where she was hiding, she dropped to her knees, hands pressing into the rich, cold dirt, and attempted to catch her off-patterned breaths and tangible anxieties. Just when she’d stilled her raging thoughts and her shaky breaths, the sudden rustling noises, emitted not too far from her, announced a horrifying presence writhing in a pool of their own immense demise. The soot-black canine with its beastly appearance instantly garnered an animalistic glare it had been harboring before it snarled viciously at her and snapped it jaw aggressive, as if to mimic a trap of some kind.

However, it didn’t get far because of its weakened state. Red found the unimaginable situation uncanny and completely ironic. And, as if things couldn’t get any weirder, the wolf dematerialized its animalistic form into that of a half-naked anemic-male with soot-black hair and deadly, citric-green eyes.

He practically growled at Red, who had previously fallen backwards and quickly pressed her back against another tree a short-distance away, and lifted his sharp-nails toward her, despite the immense pain it caused him. There was a stake that seemed to have been thrust into his heart, which explained where and why there was a great quantity of citric-green blood gushing onto the acid-smelling atmosphere. His wound was large in detail and shape, which only further permitted unnecessary movement for the protruding piece of wood, as his eyes consistently glazed over with immeasurable pain and a hoarse groan bellowed out sonorously.

The tortoise simply isn’t born with the same leg-up as the hare. Where the hare can easily leap 5 feet in one stride, the tortoise struggles with all it has to make it 5 inches.

Each branch, each rock, each ditch that gets in the way, the tortoise painstakingly makes its way around, so careful not to trip or fall or lose it’s place. The course they’ve set up has a lot of those obstacles— challenges the participants must overcome to advance, a fair playing field, the game makers reassure.

But the hare is designed to hop over the ditch, the rock, the branch with ease. The hare is built for this kind of course, with the strong legs and fast heart inherited from his mom and his dad and all of the hares before him. It’s a gift he was bestowed from birth, no price tag attached.

Herein lies the problem. It’s true that course is the same, for the tortoise and the hare. But the course is designed for the hare’s strong legs, and fast heart, and gifts he did not have to fight for. The tortoise can struggle and strive and swerve with all its might, and sometimes it might get past that finish line first, but the hare has always had the advantage. No matter how many times he stops and meanders from the path to the finish line, no matter the detours and the dallying, the hare will always have the advantage. It’s a fact built into the bones of the race course.

Another race begins. The tortoise lifts its legs like lead, meeting each roadblock head on, while the hare gets distracted by an insect buzzing some meters behind. And yet still, as it often goes, the hare wins. The tortoise sweats and struggles and struggles some more, and the hare, once it tires of its distraction, hops swiftly past it on its long-inherited legs.

It’s a race that’s been rigged from the start, at the end of the day.