First, open the door without a snap Don’t wake the evil wizard from his nap Then, tip toe in as slow and swiftly as you can Don’t you dare wake up that sickly man Grab that glowing orb he calls his own From under his bed all made of stone Next, fleed the scene as fast as you can Grab his broomstick next to the dustpan Finally, fly into the night dogging the stars I knew you could do it you made it so far

Ella de cabellos negros rondaba por la cumbre de aquella lejana loma. La luz de la luna iluminaba su rostro moreno y ojeroso, curvado desde su lumbar hasta su cervical, desfigurado por algo indiferente de los años, algo oculto.

Un lobo hambriento a la luz de la luna sólo podía significar peligro. Éste se escondía en la hierba grisácea, se camuflaba y con la paciencia de un cazador experto removía la tierra bajo sus garras.

Una mujer y un lobo. Un asesino despiadado y una mariposa débil.

Ella saltó hacia la figura del can, sorprendiéndolo por completo. Se agarró a su pelaje y arrancó su piel. Su cuerpo cual arma, envolvió al lobo y lo atravesó con su brazo izquierdo. Los gemidos, la sangre y la luz de la luna adornaban el lugar.

La mujer usó todo su rostro y lo introdujo en el estómago del lobo, logrando que el animal de su último respiro. Se deleitó con los órganos tibios del ser y gozó de su festín, finalmente en cálido silencio.

A lo lejos, una pequeña niña perdida presenció toda la escena, ella sólo estaba buscando a su madre. Su cuerpo entero reaccionó al ver esa figura familiar devorando al animal salvaje. Comenzó a transpirar helado, se paralizó de pies a cabeza y las lágrimas brotaron desesperantes.

"Mamá" quería gritar. Ni una palabra salía de sus labios pálidos. La noche sólo proporcionaba una ventisca gélida y un silencio interrumpido por los sonidos horripilantes al remover tejidos viscosos con tus fauces. Las lágrimas salientes de la pequeña la abrumaron tanto que tuvo que suspirar por aire, soltando un estruendo dirigido directamente a los oídos de la fiera.

La mujer levantó su cabeza del vientre del animal. Su rostro estaba manchado por un líquido rojo y pedazos de tejidos colgantes en sus cabellos cual adornos. Sus labios estaban irritados por haber hecho contacto descuidado con los ácidos gástricos, lo que producía que se mezcle su propia piel con la del animal, terminando en una miscelánea escarlata. Miró en dirección del sonido, ella denotaba una mirada inhumana con dotes únicamente depredadores; esclerótica rojiza, iris de noche y pupilas inexistentes.

El peso de mil rocas se posó sobre la indefensa niña al conectar miradas con su madre. Quería correr, quería gritar, no sólo lo quería; lo necesitaba. Las más remotas fibras de su ser se removieron, conspiraron para mover al menos un músculo; pero, lo único que consiguieron es temblar. La pequeña sentía el pavor en sus huesos y no podría combatirlo aunque quisiera.

Lentamente, la mujer cargó su propio peso en sus extremidades y avanzó con dificultad hacia la pequeña. Los movimientos que sus brazos hacían eran físicamente imposibles; capaces de fracturarse en otros cuerpos, pero no en el de ella. Avanzó con peligrosos ángulos e hizo que sus ramas secas sigan en camino. Su mirada jamás abandonaba a la niña. El silencio ahora plagado del sonido de huesos rotos y torcidos.

Un hilo de saliva caía por sus labios maltratados mientras avanzaba. A su paso dejaba una estela de sangre, viceras y tela saliente de su vestido rasgado. El camino que la separaba de la pequeña se hacía más corto, y al acercarse más se podían ver las lágrimas brotando de ambos seres.

Al estar frente a la niña, un único pensamiento cruzó la mente de la mujer. Moría por hacerlo. Se despojó del espacio que las separaba y la abrazó. Besó su cabeza y disfrutó del momento. Cerraron sus ojos y sonrieron sin darse cuenta, sus propios cuerpos cobraron conciencia y se alcanzaron para prometer nunca dejarse ir de nuevo.

Ambas cubiertas de sangre y otros sentimientos gozaron del momento y apartaron sus miedos. Madre e hija reunidas finalmente.

I want to write poetry.

I just want to.

I need to.

My fingers itching to grasp my pencil, scratching words out and out and out to such a mediocre beauty.

Right now, this minute, this second, and second and millisecond,

I just want to write.

Instead of meaningless, completely meaningful, irrelevant, useless, brief conversational answers.

Which answer such idiotic, philosophical, beautiful, thinking questions.

I want to be a poet.

I don’t want to be a poet.

I want to be more and utterly more, overwhelmingly more than I can ever be.

I procrastinate my school work waiting under my hands that write.

I procrastinate never when it comes to the ruled paper I don’t follow.

And I’ve come to my comfort,

The one I seem to not have mastered,

Nor find talent in.

Rust and mineral. Though she had no sentience, she felt almost, as if she smelled such. Her heart made of ion, pulsing oil through wires embedded within her chrome “skin”.

_Will i ever be real? _She thought. Even the voice in her head was monotone, robotic. She approached the core, it emitted a cool light. A light that had once comforted her, now left her with her only emotion, anger. She reached towards the core and with force, stuck her hand through it, with force. That light that once reminded her of her existence, now leaving the room. As her thoughts vanished, the last sound she heard was the failure of her systems.

Part of me wishes i fought harder. Part of me wishes i let go sooner. It's the conflict within the depths of this soul in which inhabits me, that feeds gasoline to her fire; a raging flame of desire that can only be tamed with the snowfall of...pink? Yes i said pink. I know what you're thinking, "what the fuck is she talking about." Let me explain. For so long, this desire for beauty, peace, elegance, and love, lived within my walls; clawing at every texture, begging to be taken seriously. And it was; for a short while. But enough inner turmoil raged within, and it had finally begun to break the dam that held back such an evil from escaping. And so, once the storm commenced, and the wreckage was apparent, there was a certain love, or lack there of, that surfaced. This, hatred towards humanity and self became overwhelming. So naturally, there was no fucking pink in sight. Every single grueling day was pitch black no matter how bright our sun shone. The love and joy i once felt, had been ripped out of the seams and shattered, along with the trust that had been so long gone. Part of me wishes i fought harder. Fought harder to patch my dam; fought harder to keep my love on her throne. Part of me wishes i never let go of my love for all things elegant, beautiful, and pink. Because maybe if i never let go of that love, it wouldn't have taken me so long to learn how to give it again.

“I have to go,” Abigail said, laughing.  She started toward the already-whistling train, but Cecil was faster, catching her hand.  

“I’ll see you again soon?” Cecil asked, his smile faltering.  Abbie’s heart softened.  Cecil may have worn a carefree face well, but Abbie knew how much she worried.  In truth, it was a little infectious.  She’d been losing more and more sleep as of late, her mind so full of thoughts of boarding school, of the future, of Cecil.  

“I’ll be back in three weeks time to visit.  I promise.”  She dropped a kiss to Cecil’s palm, as if sealing the message.  “Now I really have to go.”  But Cecil, apparently, wasn’t satisfied.  

“You’ll be okay?”  He took a hesitant step toward Abbie, who reached out and touched his cheek reassuringly.  

“Don’t worry, my love,” Abbie whispered, flushing scarlet as she spoke.  She’d never considered himself outgoing, so to speak, but Cecil always made her act downright shy. Ever since they were children, Abbie couldn’t help but blush at the sight of Cecil’s floppy red hair, his pretty green eyes, the sound of his gentle laugh. God, she would miss him in the city. The thought of being miles away from him at a strange new school was enough to make her sick. Still, she had to admit the new opportunity excited her, and she couldn’t wait to explore everything the city had to offer.

She fixed her grip on her suitcase, glancing up at Cecil, who tilted his head for a moment in that thoughtful way of his, before brushing his lips against Abbie’s cheek, swift as the wind. Abbie’s breath caught in her throat. No matter how many times he kissed her, it always felt like the first.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispered. Abbie‘s lips turned up at the corners in a bittersweet smile.

“I’ll write,” she promised. Cecil nodded, his hand resting faithfully against his heart. The two shared a last, lingering glance before Abbie turned away toward the train, and the next chapter in her life finally began.

The fog was thick and there was an eerie absence of sound that they noticed more and more from the moment they entered. From the outside it looked like any other forest, but the moment they passed the threshold, nothing seemed right about it. The trees were almost unnaturally twisted as if some external force had exerted pressure on them. The bark gave everyone creepy pareidolia and disturbed faces felt like they were popping out at them. There was a nice pine and mild flower fragrance before they entered, now it smelled like musk and as if everything was beginning to rot, and there was a slight undertone of sulfur. They each made hesitant and deliberate steps but each time their foot hit the ground the sound would stop just a fraction too soon.

“I don’t like this” one of the group muttered.

“Shhhh, be quiet” another quickly rebuked.

They continued slowly making their way in the direction the map they received seemed to indicate, but it was hard to truly tell since the moment they stepped in that foresaken place, their compasses seemed to go crazy periodically.

Suddenly, a faint glow emitted from somewhere deeper in the general direction they were trudging. The first to notice it suddenly stopped and in a whispered tone told the others wait. Those that had one pulled out their compasses and checked, but they were all acting as if a strong magnet was running circles around them. After some very hushed and nervous deliberation they decided to head towards the lumination.

Carefully moving forward the glow was getting a little brighter and seemed to reach out behind as if it were trying to embrace them. Visibility was poor and the fog was stifling but the light around them got brighter and brighter the more steps they took towards it.

In a sudden and very digital-like jump, a silhouette appeared in the distance ahead of them. They froze in their tracks, hearts pounding through their chests and breaths heavy, yet no sound seemed to reach them from beyond their own mind.

“What the fuck is that?!” One of them exclaimed, only he couldn’t seem to actually vocalize and the words were stuck in his throat. He quickly noticed that he wasn’t breathing anymore and the hypoxia became apparent and his consciousness began to fade. He quickly took a look at the others but they did not seem to notice what was happening to him. They actually appeared frozen stiff almost as if he were looking at a photograph. The last thing he sees before his vision fades are a series of black strands begin to wrap around the others as they stood motionless in their tracks.

Then…

Darkness

I

I want

I want your voice to reach my ears.

I want your laugh.

I want to see your face.

For the first time.

I want to see how tall you are, not in the old photos.

The real you.

I want to hear your story.

I want YOU to tell me your story.

I want you to tell me anything, say anything.

I want to see your callused hands.

I want to see your nose, the one I might have.

I want to see the yellow undertone of the pale yet tan skin we share.

I want to hear your favorite song, Maybe if it wasn’t the one everyone tells me.

You like acting? Me too.

Is it because you happened to like it?

Or is it because you liked it?

The Beatles?

You know them?

And you played the guitar?

You’re cool. I tried to play it once.

Your favorite song by them is Michelle, right?

Right?

My favorite song is Michelle too.

Because you like it.

I heard you had the same hair colour as mine.

The ever-so-close-to-black brown.

I hope I don’t have that brown because of my father,

But because of you.

I want to see you.

For the first time.

I want to hear you.

For the first time.

I want to talk to you.

For the first time.

I want to meet you.

For the first time.

And I might become desperate,

And I might become insane,

And maybe I would dig you up from your grave.

But even that wouldn’t be possible.

Because you’re just too far away from me.

Anna had gotten a letter that morning. She wasn’t sure who it was from there was no name no clue to who sent the letter. Anna opened the letter The letter read “Dear Anna, There had been a discovery that you are the owner of a necklace. This may seem of no importance but this necklace has been passed down for centuries and it’s worth a great deal of money. I have put in the time and effort to give this letter and the necklace to you. In order to receive the necklace you must travel to Paris, France since I have no time, nor funds to travel to you. I am to remain Anonymous until are meeting for security measures. The meeting will take place on December sixth of this year. Hope this letter finds you. “ Sincerely, No one

Anna did not like that she didn’t have the identity. Why would she travel to meet a stranger? She didn’t have the money. But a chance to be wealthy? That was tempting. Anna was not in a good financial position. Will she travel or not? That is for you to decide.

#1 “The Forest Pack is stealing our prey, and even the forest seems to be starving. The trees are bare, and it feels like we’re being squeezed tighter every day. Every time I catch a scent of them, I want to rip their pelts off and run them out of our land! But I have to stay calm. Frost always tells me to think before acting, but I can’t stop my claws from itching.”

#2 “Lina’s headache was bothering her again today. I told her to rest, but I don’t think she heard me. It’s hard to focus on her when the world is so loud with hunger. I found some prey—finally. A squirrel, two birds, and a rat. Frost’s gonna be so proud! But I don’t know if I can fill all our stomachs alone… the forest feels emptier every day.”

#3 “Lina snapped at me when I asked if she was ok. She’s never been like this before—why is she so angry all the time? I know she’s hurting, but I can’t help her if she won’t listen. I didn’t find anything today, and I’m starving… but when I came back, Frost said there was still some hope. I found a vole. I have to keep pushing through, for the pack.”

#4 “Lina attacked me today when I asked if she was ok. I never thought she’d hurt me like that… Frost says I should stay away from her, but I’m not sure I can. I can’t just leave her like this. She’s… sick, and I don’t know what to do. I found a deer today. Me and Frost tracked it down and caught it. Finally, enough food for everyone. But when I look at Lina, all I see is a wolf that’s fading away. Her fur’s thinning, and her bones are starting to show. Maybe it’s just the scarcity of prey, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore.”

#5 “I don’t think Lina’s ok… I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong with her. I don’t know how much longer she has before the disease takes her. I wish Frost could see it, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. I’m scared. I’m scared that one day, Lina won’t be Lina anymore. And when that happens, will she come after me? Will she attack me too?”

A few diary entries into the mind of Squirrel, a young wolf. Tell me if you want more!