Wednesday, May 30, 2012


you stole my sister's life from me,
you can never take her death,
thus I wear her on this chain,
always around my neck.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Dream Journal: 29 May 2012

1. Was driving down a very narrow dirt road, just two tire tracks really, and I kept swerving off the track. There were cars ahead of and behind me, and we were traveling in an evenly-spaced column.

The gal behind me swung too wide while gunning her engine and rolled the car, but it suffered no damage. Four drivers, including myself, pulled to the side and rolled her back over.

2. I woke up with hair-mesh yellow-black faux butterfly wings covering my ears. They didn't feel weird or obstruct my hearing or anything. I walked into the bathroom, which looked like my old one on Nordic, and I appreciated them in the mirror before cleaning them off.

3. It was a Saturday.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Used To

I come here, and sit. I sit here, and watch. I don't come closer, I don't participate. I know I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere but back at my place, alone, nose buried in a book, or staring at a screen trying to write one.

I used to feel senses of belonging, moments in time when I was with others and I didn't feel like I was intruding...

Now, I only feel awkward, like I shouldn't have come in the first place, like even looking longingly on is tresspassing.

I told them I would wear this hat and this feather, and now I just want to stuff it in my bag and take the long way around.

I have made myself a truly solitary creature, and there is no antidote.

Friday, May 11, 2012


"What is the first rule of FGHT Club?" John pronounced it "fight."

"Talk about FGHT Club!" his compatriots shouted back eagerly.

"And what is the second rule of FGHT Club?"

"Talk about FGHT Club!"

"And what is the third rule of FGHT Club?"

"Never sacrifice comfort for control!"

"With these rules, I open this session of FGHT Club." John banged his inflatable squeaky gavel once and then laid it aside. "Now, before we start our games, I do have some news."

The two other members of the club stopped reaching for their bags and controllers and looked up.

"As you probably know, the school board gives every club a small budget to spend on trips and event and such." There were nods all around. "Well, since we have no need for trips and such, our faculty advisor and I have been negotiating for an alternate use for this allowance."

John nodded to their advisor, Mr. Wyndom, who until now had been sitting quietly in the corner working on his computer, but now picked up a very large binder from his desk and carried it over.

"Instead of just taking it away from us, they've let us spend it on 'renting' space on the school servers. They've given us some conditions, which I will go over in a moment, but first, I want to tell you what we've down with our new corner of the server:

"We are now the newest hosts and administrators to our own Minecraft server!"

Both of the members' face lit up, and one of them started shaking so badly he had to sit down.

"Now, there are a few rules that the school board has put in place. First off, we must manage it ourselves. We have a manual," and with a thud, Mr. Wyndom dropped the binder on the table between them, "and we will soon all have sub-administrator accounts. Secondly, everybody here must sign a waiver not to go doing anything illegal; our activities will be watched very closely, and the Minecraft server will be password protected. Thirdly, only local players may join. Fourth, no playing during school hours. And finally, though they recognize that the server my crash from time to time, we must ensure that before we leave, it must be reset and running every night. Understood?"

The both nodded, and took the waivers that Mr. Wyndom pulled out of the front of the binder, signing eagerly. He took the sheets back, and returned to his corner, leaving the binder where it lay.

"Alright, the server is already installed and waiting for us to start building. You guys ready?"

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Falling Out Of The Sky (Mature)

Mature Content


I know we haven't talked in a while, but--
Wow, it's so good to hear your voice. How're you doing?

I'm not, actually.
You don't sound too good.

My head got to a bad place.
Is there anything I can do? Do you need someone to talk to?

I'm past the talking phase. I just... I don't have much time left. Can you just tell everyone that I'm sorry, please? I tried so hard, and everything just kept turning to dust in my hands. Tell my mom that there's no more pain anymore. I'm past that. I'm... I'm going somewhere where there won't be any pain. I'm sorry things turned out this way, but I didn't see any other options.

Wait. What are you talking about?

I can she Her, she waited for me all this time, and I see Her now, welcoming me with open arms. Would you tell them? Please?

I'll tell them.

Thank you. I'm just... so sorry for how everything turned out. Goodbye.

Wait, don't ha--

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Orange and Black (Mature)

Mature Content

I drifted.

The inside walls of my apartment were as solid as smoke. I slipped through my kitchen wall, but surrendered at the front facade. I could not be freed.

My entertainments lay wasted but unforgotten on the floor. I tried to distract myself, but they all slipped through my fingers. Only my chairs and bed would hold me.

I didn't look at myself. There were no mirrors in the apartment shy of the bathroom, and it held a gentle compulsion, keeping me away. I thought of myself as wearing black jeans and an orange shirt--that was the last outfit I could remember putting on, and had no memory of taking it off. My perspective knew nothing of time passing, only that I was tired but could not sleep, could not dream, could not leave or participate

In a single, sudden moment, the apartment shook, and the front door flew open. Somebody staggered in, and though I felt as if I knew them once, I knew them no more. They stormed through the rooms, one by one, ignoring my presence, drifting along beside them.

"Empty. Empty. Empty."

They stomped toward the bathroom at the rear of the apartment, and the compulsion broke before them. We entered together, and together we stopped, staring down at the bathtub. Smeared red letters on the tile above it read "no more pain."

I felt myself lighten, and the outside walls that once held me now pulled me through them and while I gazed down at the body in orange and black.