Mirrorakay

"Do you know how to speak, little one?" grunted an old man's hoarse voice. He tapped a long, brown nail against the pocket-watch's glass. ~ Quarantine—that was all the people were allowed to know. The little shack where a crooked old man lived was paroled night and day by a small group of siblings. Why they slaughtered or mangled any person who dared let their curiosity best them, the siblings did not know. Honestly, it was never a concern. All that mattered was that, in payment for their services, they received shelter and a hot meal. That small bowl of almost rotten leftovers and the floor of a rundown barn was enough for the sibling

Tomorrow Night When no more shrieks of terror or snarling words pierced my hands and drove their sound deep into my ears, I loosened my hands from my head. Curling my nails down, I scraped my fingers through my hair, digging trenches along my scalp. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, feeling the cool droplets of my own foul blood stick to my fingers. Carefully I drew in several breaths deep enough to test the capacity of my ribs; it did nothing but force that vile girl's scent down my throat. Every muscle in my body tightened unbearable. Through my rigid jaw, I screamed. My voices pierced my ears like daggers, but I did not stop-not

Little Princess The heaviness of the air settled in as the moon shifted behind a thick layer of clouds that extended all the way to the horizon. However, I liked the pressure of dead air on my skin. It had a nice grounding property to it that kept my insides from churning too much. All I could hope is that the moon remained as shy for the rest of the night. I would listen to my thoughts a bit better that way. I pulled a stiff, folded piece of paper from my pocket and worked it open. My thumbs smoothed over the creases as I looked at the words delicately stroked onto the page. An overly ornate "you are invited" opened the curtain for the f

 My feet were bare the day that she found me. Old rainwater from the energetic spring skies settled in the dips of the old alleyway. After several days foul-smelling colors settled into the stagnant water. My little corner of the brick and cement niche was just high enough to keep the water from washing up on my feet. However, the pink flesh that I had seen several days ago had gone missing under layers of brown dust. I watched them intently over those days, trying to keep my ears from hearing the venomous whips that the people on the street shouted at me. Even though I watched them with such determination, they were dirtier than the last t

The purple hue of the snow-crying sky hugged the white field to its breast. Sounds of trucks bumbling around on the lightly dusted streets, mothers and fathers calling their children in for the night, and soft crackles and pops of fires were all absorbed by the falling snow, swallowed and taken to the ground without another whisper. Sitting upon the hill, above all of the silenced reminders of family and friends, snow stirred. Flurries of glistening flakes stopped dead in the air and fell for a second time. This time the snowflakes forgot to collect a sound-or could not stifle something so pure. Trembling, measured white clouds of breath pass

Each inhale and exhale sounds off. A note carries within the life-long rhythm that does not belong, like an off key on a piano. Play the songs around that note but never lay finger on it. Carry the tune and allow it to wrap itself around the mind fully; never let the finger touch the bone-white key that curdles. However, his reality smashes into that key at full force. Sour notes fill his body; rapid, shallow breathing, shaking, and his body is a prison cell. Nothing moves. His amber eyes settle down in their sockets like they are ready to watch a horror film. Curl up in the bottom of the seat and keep staring forward no matter what happens

 We had known each other for so many years. As children, it had been my job to protect him from the others. I remember puffing out my cheeks in triumph as I managed to defeat another rival. Back then, all that would come of it were small scrapes and bruises. I would get to brag to him about how much stronger I was. It changed as we got older. I was not as strong as the others—still stronger than him though. I remember how he matured over those years. He tried to protect me. Though, he never got to take the victory stance. He was always the one lying on the ground with gravel getting kicked in his face. Stupid boy… I moved later.

Writing Activity #1 Instead of gothic cathedrals lining the cobble-stone streets, I get to see the horrible modern rectangles of soda and junk-food vending machines contrasting with the deathly white walls. The machines drum out a heavy hum to keep their stomach-turning glow alive. Unearthly shadows cast over the popcorn bits on the navy blue carpet. Where cool breezes should be brushing my face, I find stiff air plugging up my nose. I find myself sitting on plastic chairs with a piece of cloth draped on it-- a company's poor excuse for comfort. Nature knows the true meaning of comfort. Forgiving dirt coated with soft, lush grass in the par