Author's Note: In case it is not obvious the tone of this piece should be read as 'sarcastic' and apologies to the Challenge creator as I blantantly ignored the written instructions.

No offense to your process - I merely had a sudden burst of fan frustration.

Kill all your darlings

Don't leave them alive

Slice off their heads

Plunge in the knives

Drive them to madness

Drown them in sin

Maim, stone, torture

Let the suffering begin

And if they're a woman?

Of course there'll be rape

Hunt each lovely down

Don't let any escape

Because pain equals growth!

That must be the way

Thoughtful, quiet living

Never once saved the day

'Tis far better to end them

Let their one shot be it

They're a means to an end

However you see fit

Gods forbid they live on

No one loves an old sap

So kill all your darlings

And don't ever look back

Let me sing your beauty

Let me worship your light

Let me dance your laugh

And paint your brilliance

Let me sketch your shadows

Let me sculpt your gait

Let me carve your desires

And whistle your dreams

Let me write you a poem

Darling, dear, beloved.

"You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength." Marcus Aurelius

"The most important decision you make is to be in a good mood." Voltaire

"Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation." Victor Frankl

"10% of life is what happens to you. 90% is how you react to it." Charles Swindoll

The midwife moved swift..

Arne beamed with pride-

Leaned forward to stare at his wife—

“Irine?” She lay peacefully like an angel.

Something was not right.

Midwife transformed & jumped to grab the kid~

Alas, she got zapped by the talisman around Irine’s neck.

Now seeing her shadow form, Arne drew his sword, the midwife cackled & went flying out of the cottage, through the front door, like a plume of smoke.

#TALISMAN (c)

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=O5AMl3t817o

12 Oct. 2020 ~Monday.

Hear the voices sing?

So lovely and lively.

Step into the ring,

Dance as you are dying.

The music makes you sway,

And the drinks make you bubbly.

Why did you have to stray?

Now you can't hear my calling.

The lights begin to flicker,

Your eyes are growing heavy.

Was your life worth a drop of liquor?

The world is slowly darkening.

Giggles surround your corpse.

The music carries on.

You amuse the lords,

In the Faerie Court.

Under moon, so bright the light,

The revels have lured another victim.

You never expect the fright...

But the court now owns your life.

I stared in his eyes, listening to his endless ramble about why he had to kidnap me in order to keep me from interfering with his genius plan of worl domination.

"Alex, I'm afraid I don not understand. How does me being free interfere with your schemes?"

He stared at me, his face a blank slate for several ticks. "Because I love you. And if you're free... Someone can use you against me. You alone, could say please, and I would drop to my knees in obedience, ready to do what you wish. Love is a dangerous game and I have to prevent you from weakening me... I love you and I want to give you the world... But I can't have you free while I do it." He finally answered.

"Liar."

He frowned, "What did you just call me?"

"You. Are. A. Liar." I ennuciate, and with every word I can see it damage him. "I'm unlovable."

I watch him break to pieces. His eyes, once an abyss devoid of emotion, now filled with misery and rage. I can see something in him snap the way a twig does when one steps on it. Shatter as glass does whence striking the floor. Splinter as wood does when it cracks. The abyss he wore as armor is no match for the abyss that has made me.

I whisper quietly, "I am unlovable."

"Wynter Nightshade." He called me by his last name, as if we were married. "You are not unlovable." He crouches down, balancing himself on his heels. "I loved you the moment I was crafted in the womb, several months before you were thought of. I loved you when I saw you climb that tree in the park by yourself, just to be able to read a book away from everyone. I loved you when you told that boy to screw himself after you had watched him make fun of a mentally disabled kid. I loved you when I saw those scars all over your arms, portraying your broken soul. And as I speak to you in this very moment, I love you. You cannot change that."

My eyes stung. He can't love me. He doesn't know me.

"One day, you will be my queen and you will experience all the affection I could ever hold, all for your own."

"Lies."

He scoffed. "What the heck! Why are you such a skeptic! Let me love you!"

"No."

Storming out the room, I hear him tell James something. Then James walks in and sits in front of me.

"Hello Princess."

I winced. "Princess?"

"You're the beloved of one of France's princes. Yes Princess. Why don't you believe he loves you?"

I couldn't explain it. There was once a time I thought I was lovable but now... I was a hollow shell... Unworthy of love. Unworthy of happiness. The abyss people wore as disguises to appear mysterious, that wasn't my disguise. I was an abyss wearing a smile for a disguise, wondering why anyone would want to be abyssmal at all. It was a burden.

I was a burden.

"I'm unlovable." I whispered and closed my eyes.

I felt a soft press of lips to my forehead before James whispered "You're lovable, I promise. Sleep, my dear sister and know, one day, you won't feel so empty. I swear on my life."

I have a photo of you aged five. You are seated, hands folded, a failed attempt at a smile on your lips, your eyes full of fear. And tears. Next to you, your three-year-old sister’s face is alight with a beautiful smile for the camera. The photo, almost a centerpiece on my dresser, is an 8x10 black and white; it is surrounded by joy-filled pictures of my son and husband. The contrast is stark.

I found your photo in the attic not so long ago, in a box full of old albums I inherited from your great-aunt Deenie – my favorite of all the old ladies that peopled my childhood and young adulthood. I long suspected she was the only one that ever treated you with kindness. But, unfortunate for you, she was far away in Chicago; before you came along she had already become an infrequent visitor, having escaped from the tentacles of meanness and despair that choked the hope and joie de vivre from your little soul before this picture was taken.

I have your eyes.

Every time I gaze upon your five-year old face, my heart squeezes. So young and already you wore a look that said, I want to please you, what am I doing wrong? Why do you hate me so? Love me. Please.

I love you.

Your sister, whose mind was never whole when I knew her, looks so happy – the unfettered joy of childhood. The contrast is extreme. I wonder when you lost yours; if, indeed, you’d ever had it. Was your mother’s hatred, disappointment, anger inflicted upon you from the moment she knew you were inside her?

Or did it grow with her belly and only show itself when you burst crying into this world?

Or was it a slow and steady descent? Did it take her by surprise that she had no love for this child of her womb? Had drink already fogged her brain, distorting reality so that somehow you were the cause of all her travails? As if you had asked to be born.

You never asked to be born, indeed, you spent all the time I knew you, ready for death, open-armed. You did the best you could.

Even as an adult, you still sought to please your mother; to feel her love. Months before your death, she was still sneeringly narcissistic, compelling you to apologize to me, your pregnant daughter, for her malevolence.

You died six years younger than I am now, still feeling unloved, despite the world of love that surrounded you.

Twenty years later, she died alone.

I believed the people who said they were my family.

Now I KNOW, I have NO family, I am an orphan I have NO family.

My mom died during childbirth, I was blamed for her death. I have no dad for she was raped.

The people who raised me took me illegally. There is no record of my birth, there is no record of me.

it explains. why the “man who called himself dad” beat me so badly and let men do sexual things to me at the age of three for his drugs. because I was simply property to him, just like how he treated me. lugging me around.

it explains why he always told me my “mom” wasn’t my “mom”. I thought he said that because she left. and never talked to me again. no he said that because “SHE ISN’T MY MOM”

WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE? how did they get me? where did I come from? who are my real mother and father?

this is so crazy!!!

it explains why I don’t look anything like any of the people who claim they are my family.

it explains why there are no pictures of “my mother” pregnant with me.

I always believed we had a family when we are born? I did not.

I always believed family loves us... mine did not.

I always believed I was LOVED... I AM NOT.

I am completely alone in this world, where is the LOVE?

I always believed you would find it in mom and dad. NOPE, not here only hatred, abuse, and resentment.

I always believed you would find love when you married a man. NOPE not here only 30 years of control and abuse. Wouldn’t let me work. when I finally left him, I believed I would be able to find work. NOPE again. I became homeless last year because of that man... NO LOVE THERE AT ALL!!! ONLY 30 YEARS OF TORTURE AND ABUSE!

I always believed you would find love in your children. ready? yup, here it goes again.

NOPE. NOT HERE EITHER. 3 daughters all turned their backs on me. this after giving my whole life up for them to protect them from their abusive dad. after that bitch leaving me with that evil man who called himself dad. I couldn’t turn my back on those girls. But they sure turned their backs on me. They didn’t care I was homeless. One daughter finally talked to me to tell me... I am not welcome in her home because I am evil... this after she says I am the most positive person she knows, I ask what did I do. she says NOthing. She let her evil controlling dad convince her of his lies that I am evil.

I believed I would find love in others. I DID NOT!

IT WILL NOT BE FOUND IN OTHERS.

Love can only be found in one place... the Soul.

for it is written by God’s hand.

″Love can ONLY dwell in the Soul. and the Soul can only enter heaven through LOVE.”

I always believed Love was found in people. IT IS NOT.

Love is found in YOU. In your heart. That is the only place we will find love.

I just found out. I am an orphan.

The people who took me treated me very badly, abusing me in every way possible. I believed that was LOVE! Every time the man who called himself dad beat me he would say ”this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. I’m doing this because I love you!”

I believed people were real.

I believed people cared,

I believed people loved.

NOW I KNOW THE TRUTH... PEOPLE DO NOT KNOW LOVE!

Athena

10/07/2020