At my fingertips

I find the dust

of stars

and trace the sky

galaxies form

above my head

before my eyes

light pokes holes

through the night

planets I'll never meet

flickering on

and off

steady

breathe in deep

and listen

as a meteor shower

splits the sky.

After a long day at work I came home and found the note.

-Don’t hold dinner for me, I’m pulling an all-nighter at work.

With a quick look out the window, I confirm the setting sun. Hmm. Father’s out for the night, so no one will miss me if I’m gone. I run a hand over my legs, which are prickly with scales. Time to do what I do best.

I drive to a ledge that overlooks Darrow’s Inlet, strip out of my jeans and tee. Standing at the edge I look grimly into the water. “Here goes nothing.” With the grace of someone well practiced, I jump.

There’s a great splash as my body plunges into the ocean. Adrenaline shoots through me as total submersion equals a temporary transformation, molding my legs into a tail, and soothing my shimmering scales. Saltwater courses through my veins and the waves call to me saying; Come. You belong here. I swim out into open ocean.

Perching on a rock I wait. Seagulls sqauwk above and in the murkiness below my fins, sharks eye me with suspicion. I wave my hand to shoo them off and a boat comes into view. I straighten up, attentive, ready to perform the Song with all the skill I posess. Precision is important if you want the enchantment to bind. You must pick the moment the ocean is at its strongest, which is right after sundown.

The sun dips below the horizon like a fire extinguished, and I begin.

"Ah ah ah. Ah ah ah. Ah lou la ah." The boat shifts its course, enticed by my Song.

"Ah na na la na. Lou la na ah na la."

I have lured it in. Now the ocean takes over. The waters rise up, engulfing the ship. I want to see it go down, I want to see terror on the crew's faces as they meet with their fate. But I can't endure it. Turning my gaze to the sky, I realize it is night. Father, on occasion, will tell me that it is easier to succumb to darkness during the night, because you think no one sees what is done in the shadows.

"Oceana!"

I whip around, and scream as I lock eyes with the man aboard the doomed ship.

"Father!"

A final tidal wave swallows the vessel whole. No. No he can't be-

"No!"

I dive down, swimming farther and farther until I reach the depth's. But its no use.

He is gone.

As for tomorrow

I am clueless

but today we

dance

our breath comes

fast and furious

and our hearts

rhythm beat.

I turned my shape into a ball

I buried myself deep in a hole

and waited patiently_ until I grew back to what I was

until I straighten all of my edges

defeated the pointy angles

and pushed myself out

until I was once again_ just a line

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_44-5ENF2AI&index=5&list=LLvSkwYUv773u7BPfhYYTfjg&t=0s

Mask yourself in a smile

as your dull mind

drips all over your shoes.

Light a candle for yourself,

I'll watch you burn

and laugh.

I've ran marathons

that lasted longer than

your act.

The floorboards breathe,

you suffocate them

with your stance.

So cold and so harsh

no amount of sun

will warm

your icebox soul.

I won't be the fool

to shovel your needs

into my driveway.

I will slowly drift myself

further from the blackened energy

that breeds in your presence.

The clock struck midnight and

i felt Music bursting through my skull

It pounded at the walls of my cranium

Begging to be free of its prison

It wanted to live with me

It wanted to live amongst the mortals

To feel timely

I cried; I wanted to live amongst the melodies

I wanted to feel nonperishable

To live in that vast ocean that knew no boundaries

I was stifled in my own head

Prisoner to my own unconsciousness

Putting things in a body is easy

A scarecrow stuffed with hay, with bugs and decay, with soil and maggots

The brain too sharp

Too obsessed with its own existence

A malfunction in basic coding

In the basic stuffing of the scarecrow

Removing presents a mountain

Rip into the stitches

Go on

Unravel the stuffing like tule of a tutu

Dead, dead, dead

Facing an invasion of crows now

The music unwinding from my gyri

Doing pirouettes and crashing hard

Never breaking

Always playing

Rip into my skin

Go on.

Puncture my skull

And see the songs for yourself

See how they dance and spin and mourn and rejoice

I’ve never known silence

Please excavate my mind

So I can finally be

Alive

I screamed

I screamed and screamed and screamed

But made no sound

No air would pass my lips

I am a tree

Tumbling towards the forest floor

With no one to halt my fall

No one to witness my demise

The clock struck midnight

and she ran.

and ran

and ran

and ran.

The wind smacking her in the face

making her thin,

transluscent dress flow behind her.

"The blood's not mine,

the blood's not mine"

she screamed into the dark of the night.

No one could hear, the thick fog around her seeming to muffle her words

muffle her thoughts

muffle her existence.

She kept running,

never planning on stopping.

The blood on her dress,

on her hands.

not hers

Waiting in the dark—

The clock struck Midnight

and stopped.

Finally, I thought—

and stopped.

#theclockstruck #challenge

He wakes slowly. Everything feels right. Easy. He watches her breathe, deep and steady. Her auburn hair, so often worn in a tight bun, now pooling around her. And something snaps. Her hair stirring memories, not quite his own, but still somehow memories. A lovely blonde. Sticky, dark puddles matting her hair to the bricks in the alley. Lips pouting, eyes glassed over. Throat leaking a slow dribble. And stomach missing all essentials. His eyes refocus on the dark haired kitten in a foreign bed. His bare feet tread light and quiet through the dim room with only starlight and a dying fire in the grate to guide him. His fingers close on the straight razor like a long-forgotten friend. And the metallic blade slides through the pale skin at her throat, easy as cutting the flesh of a peach. And the blue veins gush cataracts of contrasting scarlet. And the early morning sun finds her still and breathless. Insides spilled across the room. Face an unrecognizable mask of jagged cuts. Nightdress bloody between the legs. And the early morning sun finds the attic of his mind reawakened. Newborn shadows dancing across the weathered floorboards mixing with echoes screaming through the open halls. And early morning sun finds him a hunter of human flesh. Early morning sun rises on the rebirth of terror.