Just Stop

I didn’t want to exist anymore, so I stopped existing.

 

Sometimes she just wanted everything to stop. To not be there at the back of her head so that she could finally not be that person anymore.

The person whose parents didn’t even know she existed until they were trying to kill her.

The person who had to all but rip her sister’s mind apart in order to fix it. Twice.

The person who would be trapped forever watching over a family that, while the main line would live long would eventually grow old and die.

Leaving her alone.

She just wanted it all to stop so that she didn’t have to look at the long and lonely years that stretched before her without end.

She wanted to stop existing.

But she couldn’t.

To do so would require all of the stars in the universe to stop shining, ending life as anyone knew it.

She couldn’t be selfish like that.

So she kept going.

No matter how much she was dead inside.


Why am I writing this depressing thing? Because it wanted to be written that way.

Raining Inside

It was never intended to go like this.

Lights flashed and horns honked. The sounds of people surging up all around you almost drown out the breaking of a heart.

But not quite, because nothing can drown out what you hear from your own chest as he turns and walks away for the final time.

He was never one to do things lightly and you knew that when you went into this. You’d thought that your eyes had been wide open.

Just like you thought that he’d stay.

I guess you got a lot of things wrong with this one. Like letting some guy into your heart when you knew better. Just because he’d been so different from every other boy that you’d ever met. Just because he’d actually stood up for against friends and family, people that had been in his life long before you. Just because he’d been understanding without being a pushover.

Just because he was everything that you wanted and you were everything that he had wanted.

Well, thought he’d wanted.

Obviously you weren’t really what he’d wanted.

Or, at least you’re not what he wants now.

So your heart is broken and he’s long since walked away.

The sky is clear, the sun is up, everything looks beautiful and bright and hopeful.

If only it wasn’t raining in your heart.

I Don’t Run Warm

His breath shuddered out of him, turning white in the late winter air. He hurt, why did he hurt?

“Why do I hurt?”

His voice sounded breathless and he wondered why. He could actually see his breath because of the temperature. Which led him to another question

“Why aren’t I cold?”

He should be cold because the temperature is low enough that he can see the water in his breath crystallizing. He was not the kind of person who ‘ran warm’ as his mother used to put it. He was always cold even in the middle of summer when it was pushing 99 degrees Fahrenheit.

He gave up on trying to figure out just why he wasn’t cold and closed his eyes instead.

Hindsight

There are days when I wonder if I will ever find peace.

Days when I sit and stare out the window and know that this will not last long.

Everything in my life has come at a price. At first, the price did not seem high; I simply had to leave home and though I would miss my brother and miss the trees of my youth, I knew that the life that was laid out before me was worth the cost.

How foolish those days seem now in hindsight.

I thought that he would hold me gently in his hands like the bird he’d been quickly whispering to when I first saw him. I was wrong. Oh, how I was wrong.

I look around at the cage I’m in and I know that it’s not even a gilded one to keep me safe in the comfort of my captivity.

If only I could go back in time and stop myself from letting him take me in his hand.

But I can’t.

There are things that my kind can do, crossing time and the space between one world and another is one of them, but to change our own timestream is something that I cannot do. I cannot go back to myself because it would do nothing. I would be invisible to myself and unable to make any kind of action that would change what has already happened.

My brother used to tell me stories about those that tried to change their own past and it never worked. They couldn’t even find a loophole to do so through another person. It just wouldn’t happen, no warnings or moves that could cause my doom to be turned from me. I couldn’t even go back and affect his timestream because that would affect my own.

I could do nothing about the past, about my past, but I could try and do something about my future. I can travel away from here should I be able to harness my own abilities in such a way that he doesn’t detect. He keeps close watch on my energies and everything that I can do. He makes things from my blood and my abilities. Makes himself rich and powerful while I am left with only enough to survive through the day and then the night.

My words have been silenced as there isn’t even enough in me to be able to speak words of power to focus what little life force I have to escape.

My husband certainly did his research before he captured his ‘pretty little bird.’

This little bird will peck her own eyes out if it will help me escape. I have seen enough animals gnaw their paws off in order to escape when necessary. I may hold the shape of a human but I am just as wild as the birds beyond my barred window.


This was actually a little work hat I started several months ago, but hadn’t been able to finish. I was inspired to finish it by the picture prompt from the First Monday prompt for the Light and Shade Challenge. Sorry it’s kind of depressing, but this little story universe is really sad in my head.

image: courtesy of Wiki commons, taken by monica navarro aranda and used under the Creative Commons Agreement

 

No One Knows – Eclectic Corner #5

My friend I wait at your feet
Along the path we walk
So walk slow or fast with me
To where e’er together we will be
Even as the streets we stalk
Reach out to our heartbeat.
 
Please keep nearby
Even as I cry
To have you by my side.
 

Each day was much the same, waiting for My Boy to come home from school. He was always the first through the door and I was ready and waiting. I loved the others just as much, but My Boy was special. He needed me more than the others, not because life wasn’t just as hard or them but because My Boy didn’t have the same kind of support that his siblings had. I don’t understand much about humans, about how they decide who should and shouldn’t be their friend, but My Boy didn’t have friends his age. Those few that he did have were usually also friends with his siblings.

So during the times when it was just My Boy and me, before the others got home from school, or after school activities, he would curl up against me and with his face pressed into my belly and no one had to know about the tears soaking into my thick coat of fur.

No one had to know about the taunts he’d repeat.

No one had to know that his homework was done twice to hide the tear stains.

No one had to know about the smiles that look so broken, the ones that he practiced to make sure that no one could tell that they were broken.

No one had to know that My Boy’s siblings worried about him.

No one had to know that they would whisper into my ears about their fears.

“He never talks about school.”

“He only hangs out with us when we ask him to, he used to ask to spend time with us all the time.”

“I haven’t seen him happy about anything outside of the house in months.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Rabby.”

So I sit there, curled around My Boy and wait because there is nothing more I can do.


This little story snippet and poem was inspired by the picture prompt from Eclectic Corner #5 for this week from the lovely Justine.

Glinting Coldly

She glared at me through misty eyes, “I don’t even know if you’re alive in there or some horrible golem placed here on earth to trick and deceive me!”

He said nothing as she hurled her words at him, dripping in vitriol and agony. When he continued to say nothing under further verbal assault she shoved her way past him and left, stomping just loud enough for him to hear her until she’d rounded the corner.

Forgotten in his hand was a slim circle of gold, the light glinting coldly off of the stone set within it.


This snippet is brought to you by the prompt from Three Word Wednesday last week.

Why do I write sad things?