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So glad the simulation brought you here today!
Faight Zey
Death By Nightmare
I woke up crying again. The dream started out the same, and although I tried harder this time to save them it still ended the same way too. Whatever that song playing was it was hurting those people. Badly. I wish I could stop their pain. Or at least stop having this dream.
â—‹•â—‹•â—‹
I walked down the stairs quietly to listen for my family. How is nobody up yet? I walked in the kitchen got a yogurt out of the fridge. When I pulled open the drawer for a spoon I heard a weird sound. Like someone whimpering. I stopped to try and listen further but the sound was gone. It was too quiet. I looked around. No mother. No father. No sisters. No dogs. It was weird. Monday mornings are the craziest. What is going on? I walked back up stairs and into my parents room and they were both asleep.
Typical. A long night with a loud fight ended with beer and sleep. I shook them awake and stood back as they started screaming and swinging. For some reason they all of a sudden started attacking the people who tried to wake them up. It started about a month ago but neither of them can -or will- tell why.
“It's 7 on a Monday morning guys.” I yelled lazily as I walked out of their room and into my sisters’ room. As I walked into their room I picked up their alarms, which had started going off, and put them on each of their pillows next to their heads. They woke up swinging and screaming too. I don't know what is wrong with my family.
I went back downstairs and ate my yogurt. I was already ready to go because I woke up an hour earlier than everyone. I needed to be ready and this family is crazy in the morning.
An hour later my sisters were ready to go so I dropped them off at their middle school and headed for the dreaded high school.
I wasn't ready for today to start. That dream really fogged up my head and I couldn't focus.
The Color Black
It's not the color of your skin, but people say it is. It's the color of the sky as you drive down the road. The color of their fearful words as your parents talk in the front seat. The color of the world before you close your eyes. It's the color that forcefully awakens you from your short nap. It's the color of his eyes as he asks for your father's licence. The flash of color as he moves to retrieve it. It's the sound of metal piercing his heart. The sound of your mother's scream. The sound of footsteps running toward your car. More men with the same dark eyes. Their talk is that color as they try to cover up what happened. It's the color of your mother's chest as you put your face into her to cry. It the sound of your combined sobs.
It is the color of the sky as you bury him. As you send him to a place the opposite of this awful color. The color you see when people ask how you're doing. When people say they're sorry for your loss. When they say it's “Ok to cry.” The color of your mind as you steal for the first time. And for the second, third, and fourth time. The color of your mother's tears as you get caught the fifth time. It's the color of the judge's words as he contemplates whether to let you go or not. It's the color of your mother's words when you come home. The color of her eyes as she doesn't believe your promises.
It's the color of your eyes as you give up. The color of the bag the man on the corner gave you for a hefty price. The color you feel in the back of your head when you use drugs for the first time. The color you ignore. It's the only color you see for a while. The color of school. The color of home. The color of family and friends. Then the color of the abandoned house you occupy. It's the color of the absence of friends and family. It's the color of the bruises you give to the man who has just bought this home and caught you here.
It's the color of everyone's eyes on you in court. It's the color of the judges disappointment as he sends you away. It's the sound of familiar tears but the color is so strong you can't find where it's coming from, or how to comfort it. It's the color of the small brick room you have to share. The color of the other man's eyes. The one who thinks you're pretty. The one you're terrified of. It's the color of the 5 years that go by slowly and painfully in that place.
It's the color of your skin, from the burning sun, as you leave. The color of your soul as you go past the houses of friend and family. The color of your tears as you walk back to his grave. It's not the color of your heart as you apologize to him, crying over his tombstone.
To be added...
In the rain
I love the rain. I love the feel of the raindrops washing away my worries. Washing away any annoyances or difficulties. I love to watch plants and flowers grow under the caring hand of the rain. i love to watch worms, the unwanted creatures, finally feel like they belong.
In a way I feel like that too. I feel complete and content in many different places, but in the rain... In the rain I feel apart of the world. I feel as if something is pulling me towards life.
Love is pain
"What are you thinking?" He asked, turning his gaze from the river to me. Should I tell him? Really tell him. Tell him that his eyes kindled something in me so unladylike I don't even dare write it down in my diary. Say that every word he directs to me makes my knees unusable and my stomach a butterfly farm. Let him know that I spend every waking moment thinking about cupping his face in my hands and pressing his lips against mine. Tell him I have no choice though. Before I destroy whatever we have, let him know that I love him.
"Nothing." I replied with a shrug. He snorted knowing I lied and turned to look back at the river. I shifted the cold piece of metal to my other hand. Tears slowly and silently slid down my cheeks. He noticed and turned his head slightly, looking at me concerned.
"I'm really, really, really sorry but-" I never finished my sentence because in an instant he took the knife and pierced my heart. He whispered, "I love you too."and slowly and solemnly pushed me into the river. He rinsed his hands of my blood, stood, and walked away, tears streaming down his face.
Dear future child,
This is the person who gave birth to you. The person who will likely give you up. If you exist it’s because you were forced to exist. I know that sounds harsh but I live in America. And a little over a month ago I wouldn’t have even felt the need to write this letter, but now… Now it will be basically illegal for me to terminate a pregnancy I don’t want.
And yes, you could’ve been adopted. You could be in a lovely family and never think about me, or they could be bad people who beat you, or rape you, or sell you to older men with pedophillic fetishes.
You could also be disabled and have not been adopted at all because of all the challenges that come with having a disabled child.
You could be “undesirable” because the way some government officials are acting towards minorities, black people could have significantly less rights again soon.
You could be in the disaster that is the US foster care system. 5 children to a room and being treated as just a check from the state that is “not worth the trouble you are”.
I want to apologize if that is your life. I know you probably wish you weren’t born, and from the physical and mental toll it took from me I wish the same.
I hope against hope you aren’t a girl. Especially a girl with dreams of having bodily autonomy or even being able to make the same amount of money as the men in your field of work.
I hope against hope you are white passing. That your skin and modern beauty cosmetics will make the average cop less likely to shoot you.
I hope against hope you aren’t queer. That you don’t have to mourn the loss of the right to marry who you love before you are even born and wonder why it isn’t a human right anyway.
I hope against hope you aren't trans. That you don’t have to afraid of being legally murdered because you told someone who you truly are and they “panicked”.
I hope against hope you don’t have any mental illnesses. That you aren’t continually denied affordable healthcare to help ease the pain until you decide to end it all.
I hope against hope that you are never born. In a world where we ignore scientists in favor of making billionaires richer. In a world where we would rather assist in the murder of about half of out entire global population than stop the spread of a life-threatening disease. In a world where the cost of everything is continually going up and you have to work 2-3 jobs and have 1-3 side hustles to make a living wage.
This is not a world I would ever bring a child into if I was given a choice. But if you exist then I wasn't given a choice. You were given “life” in a world where you will not live but learn to survive. And if you do not learn to survive, this world will take you out in a way much harsher than I ever could’ve.
Who was he?
I kind of sensed him before I could even see him. I felt all of a sudden anxious. Like I knew I something important was gunna happen.
He walked into the small bookstore, clanging the little bell above the door. There wasn't much on the ground floor. Mostly biographies and informative study books. But downstairs there was the fiction I loved. The stories of witches, vampires, dragons, and other amazing creatures that you only find between the cover of a great book.
I was on the second step toward my paradise when I turned and looked at him. He was tall and in a leather jacket with a marvel T-shirt underneath and old jeans with paint stains on them. His dark brown hair hung wavy at his ears. He had a soft oval face and a crooked smile. The most amazing part of him was his eyes. They were bright purple and seemed too wide for his face.
He walked up to the cashier like he was in a hurry. Gawd he's hot just standing there. He turned his head at me and stared at me confused. I quickly turned and started walking downstairs.
“Wait! Dani come back!” He started following me down the stairs. He was gaining fast because his long legs allowed him to skip steps.
How the hell does he know my name? And why is he following me?
“I could tell you everything if you just let me.” He whispered as he got closer. I had reached the bottom stairs when he grabbed my arm. I don't know why I thought running down here would help. I'd just be trapped anyway. If I could just grab my pepper spray out if my pocket without him noticing.
“Please don't pepper spray me. I hear it hurts a lot” He said looking me in the eyes. I suppressed a scream. Did he just read my mind? What the hell?!
“Yes I’m reading your mind but that’s not important right now!” He grabbed me by the face and kissed me. Suddenly a flash of purple went over my eyes. The purple slowly fogged away to reveal a tall, built man with darker purple eyes than the ones attached to the kisser. He was in a room with the walls falling apart. There was barely enough light to examine the room but I could see a lumpy shape of a body in a dog cage in the middle of the room. The man walked up to the cage and whispered something to the figure. It immediately turned its face toward him and growled viciously. The person looked like me but smaller and with bright violet eyes.
Another flash of violet and i was back in the bookstore. The boy was gone. He had just disappeared out of thin air. I looked around, trying to find him. I ran back upstairs and searched for him. I didn’t want to ask the cashier in case the boy had actually disappeared. That is a crazy thing to hear from someone.
I walked out, completely forgetting my safe haven of books. Who the hell was that creepy guy? And why did he have a “me” in a cage? And more puzzling, who was that boy?
The little black box
She wouldn't do it. She locked the box for a reason. If she opened again she'd only hurt worse.
Or would she? It had always made the pain a little more bearable. It showed her she could still feel and bleed.
What would Roger say? He helped her get better. He wanted her to stay better. He loves her. And she loves him. But does she love him enough to leave the little black box alone?
The little black box that was once white but painted black. the whole box black except for the engraving of the words, "LOVE YOURSELF." The only pure part of the box. That remained white.
She fiddled with the lock quietly, thinking. Suddenly the door slammed and she heard his drunken footsteps make their way to the kitchen.
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! WHERE IS MY DINNER?!"
She gently set the little black box in a drawer under the bathroom sink and ran to the kitchen.
She scurried around the kitchen heating up the dinner she had made hours ago. He sat down at the round table in the middle of the kitchen watching her closely. Smiling to himself at the speed she worked at and how her hands shook when she couldn't find a way to busy them.
A cry broke the terrified silence. She paused for a second hoping it was only a nighttime noise and not an awakening. Several minutes of silence pass. She breathes a sigh of relief and continues.
As she prepares the plate the cry sounds again. She hurriedly finished his plate and set it down in front of him, pulling her sleeves over her wrists nervously.
The cry getting louder as he stared at the plate for what seemed like an eternity. As if to inspect that every grain of salt was in the right place. The cry becoming a scream for help or even love. She didn't dare move. She had to wait. If she didn't, what awaited her would be ten times worse than what's in the little black box.
How to start?
If I just write. Just put pen to paper, what will flow out of my brain? Maybe a memory or secret or discovery. Possibly what I see right now. Many stories begin with the main character describing the abundant amount of greenery gliding by their car window. Maybe I should give you and insight to my future doom and then come back to where "it all started." I guess I could start with my name and a greeting of some sort, but that seems too formal. I think I have Just the thing....
Dear Reader,
Think of every living creature in this world. Imagine each creature had its own realm, or world where that species is dominant and may possess powers unknown to the Realm of Humans. Imagine that the entire universe depended on the balance of all these realms. If either of these realms fell to chaos it could and would destroy the very fabric that held the realms together. If all the realms stay away from chaos we'll be safe right? Wrong, because one realm is already slowly descending into chaos... ours.
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