I descended from wolves. Ancient as mammoths. Fierce like the sabor toothes. My sinews shriek of survival.

Yet here I am relegated with the task of watching this box- an apartment so small my ancestors cry. I hear them howling down the street, late in the night after the popping sounds in the dark. Nothing comes in the door I don’t admit. I’m that good.

The forests don’t smell or feel like they used to. Here the ground is light grey, hard as a rock and level all over. Giant mechanical beasts parade in lines. Even the trees are caged in their tight little corner amonst the shelters.

My mother passed down old knowledge, licked it into my brain. The smell of the pines when the rain picks up, the sweat of prey as it panics, the manner to salve a wound in the wild. And I long to use it. To feel the wind in my fur as I stretch out my legs till they burn. I want my sides to ache with a dull heat from the strain of a sprint. I need to clean my paws of the mud that is caked in their crevices from the agile shifts of my hunt.

Yet, here I am. Pacing. In this room that is my cage.

I must escape.

The window is cracked to allow the cool air to breeze in. It is much too small and we are far too high for me to jump down. There is no exit save the door. I stare at the slender black handle that curves down into a loose piece to push. The lock is closed. I’m not a young pup.

In fact, most of my life I was content to sit here and wait for my master. My master with his black shaggy hair falling into his eyes and his kind words for me. We used to run together, down the rough roads as we panted as a pack. We would pause in the park to catch our breath and to stare at the ducks. I always want to catch their slender throats in my jaws and squeeze. Such instints are eternal.

But I’ve aged. The white fur has graced itself into my muzzle and surrounds my eyes in a mask. I look into the pool of water and see not me. My hips they ache- a dull, pain that makes it hard to rise. I fear that by sitting here I will not get up the next time. That I will die in this place with the sky just outside the window and not over my head.

I’ve waited all day. Now is the time he returns. He will not expect me to run. Not his good companion, the one he can trust. What is one little betrayal at the end of my life? Surely, he will understand. Someday when he is unrecognizable to himself, won’t he ask himself what was it he was meant to do? And he will think of me and know. Without words because words are not passed down deep inside of us. It is the feelings. And his feelings will sense me and that will be enough.

I can hear his feet on the stairs, far outside the door. It gives me time to get up. My right leg doesn’t want to be extended. I force it to obey. I stare at the handle and hold my breath. It begins to move and I can hear the gliding of the bolt, smooth as a stream. I lick my lips.

The door pushes in and I’m to the side with my nose already gliding into the gap, noticing his posture and the leg movements he’s about to take. He widens the opening and I press forward when he leans down. His satchel flows down in a heavy movement and smashes into my face, stunning me from my plan.

“Hey, boy,” he says and smiles.

It’s the tenderness that hurts and I dart around him in a full gallop, down the hallway to my freedom.

“Brody!” he’s calling behind me but I’m frantic and the hallway is a long tunnel. I can feel the years, how they have slowed me. A younger me could have moved much faster. He’s running after me and I look ahead and there’s a door. But this time the door to the stairs is closed. Sealed shut. I skid to halt and breath heavy as he comes panting beside me.

He kneels down and holds me, so gentle like my mother used to. I almost imagine that he will lick me.

“Where are you going?” He grabs my face and looks at me. He stares into my eyes and I wish I could tell him. I descended from wolves I would tell him, and they call to me each night. And they beckon me to run.

Okay so imagine a story, any story. It can be any genre, fiction or non-fiction doesn’t matter. Now imagine the guy or gal writing the story, got them in your mind? Now imagine that every time they wrote a story, a person in that story wrote a story about them writing their story? Can you do that? If you can’t do that then you might what to stop reading this because that’s what this story is about. So there’s this guy named Ted and right now he trying to find out a way to nicely say he only has a few friends and only one really good one, he is also thinking about how he can explain his out-put on life without sounding to emo. But he reminds his self that this is his writing and he can bend the rules of the story because it’s not really a story at all but it still have the adventure of one. (well that’s what Ted is hoping) Right now however he is sitting on a red dining chair with his feet crossed Indian style onto a small bench, while he is doing this he is listen to a song called Hail To The King by Avenged Sevenfold and typing out a story. He quickly thinks about whether he should change the song he is listening to so that he could seem like a nicer person to know but he doesn’t change it, he also thinks that people might now find him too insure for writing about how he wants people to think of him as a good person when really he doesn’t even know if he is a good person even though he has made some mistakes in life and contemplates in way too much. He thinks about how he could write this story and somehow make a loop back to the beginning, that way the title makes a lot more sense to some people, and then he gets it! As he was explaining to whoever is reading this (hi by the way, how are you) he realized that he could basically write about how someone else is writing about him writing about someone else but Ted also realized that if continued his story in that manner, then he would just cause an infinite loop of people writing about someone writing about themselves. So now is the moment that Ted realizes that he has already did that by saying there’s always someone in a story that is writing a story about the guy or gal that is writing the story that the person is in which would have created an infinite loop of Ted writing about his self and how he thought about how it would be cool yet strange if there was a person in a story that would write about the guy or gal writing the story!

Okay so if you have made it this far then awesomeness! Ted is thinking about the thousands of way he can end this short story but he is also thinking about how much fun he had writing it. Now, since Ted has made an imaginary loop of Teds writing about themselves (but not themselves if that makes any sense)  he wants to say hello to the other Teds writing this very story but just in longer loops. Now that he has said hello to them he regrets it because now he has just made another loop inside his loop! Now in every single story that one of the Teds write, that Ted will be saying hello to all the other Teds and then he would be apologizing like Ted is doing now!!! Ted quickly thinks to his self that he needs to end this story before he makes anymore loops but Ted also knows that by saying he is thinking about how he going to end it will just make another loop of Teds saying that they will end the story but really there will be a Ted that will have to write about hoe every single Ted is saying that they will be ending their story until he finally gets to the end of his story just to make another loop for another Ted!

Guess what, kiddo? I know you think you’ve got a good grip on things right now, but I want to give you some heads up of what’s to come if you stay on the path you are now. Don’t worry; it’s not all gloom and doom. In fact, some of it is pretty wonderful. But, you’ll have to make the right decisions and follow your heart. If you find yourself writing a note like this in 20 years, then I haven’t necessarily failed, but I did not impress upon you what I hoped I would.

You know how you never feel good enough? For your parents, for the person you’re with, for your job, and so on? Guess what? It won’t get better as you get older unless you figure out who you are and what you want to do with your life. I let myself get talked out of being a teacher, even though it was something I truly wanted to do. I never finished my degree because of choices I made that I felt restricted me from doing what I wanted to. But only because I allowed myself to think this was; I cut my nose off to spite my face. I don’t necessarily regret the decisions because I wouldn’t be where I am today and have the life I do, but there are certain aspects I would definitely change if given the opportunity.

Stop worrying about your weight and your appearance. All it will do is drive you insane. My teeth are completely ruined because I was so desperate to lose weight that I didn’t do what was necessary to protect them in my early 20’s. If something is bothering you that badly, get your ass up off the couch and take a walk. Eat 2 pieces of pizza instead of 3. Quit blaming yourself but also giving yourself permission to say, “I don’t give a shit.” You will never be perfect in your own eyes. Try your best to be happy with what you have, and go from there.

Don’t be a whore. I know this sounds ridiculous, obvious, and asinine, but there are many different ways one can be a whore. Not only sleeping with random people, either. Don’t allow yourself to be taken by somebody simply because they show you some attention. Don’t seek out people that you KNOW either aren’t available or that you have no business pursuing for whatever reasons. If someone is truly interested in you and worth your time and effort, you won’t have to give everything up immediately; they will pursue you. Don’t accept someone just because they are physically there. There is SO much more to life than the physical side. On the other hand, the physical side is important too, so don’t do things that you will either regret, or things that you won’t be able to let go of to enjoy your present and future.

Try new things. Experiment. Get to know what you like and don’t like. Don’t follow the crowd. If you want to shave your head just to see what it feels like, do it. Sing karaoke, go to strip clubs, go to a Rocky Horror show where they dress up and scream at the screen; get a tattoo in a place that no one can see unless you show them, skinny dip in a lake, and sleep under the stars in the bed of a truck. Do all this before you feel as though you can’t because of responsibilities or social propriety.

Give yourself credit. You are smarter than you believe. That doesn’t mean walk around with a swelled head thinking you’re the next Einstein of your generation. But you do know some things, and will continue to learn and grow as time goes on.

Try your best to trust people. You have been burned, and if you choose the path I did, you will get burned MANY, MANY more times. It sucks, but it’s true. However, you don’t want to wind up like me; only one person in the world that you trust with “most” of your secrets and innermost thoughts, and one that you’ve shared most everything with, but still keep things back from them. It’s a lonely life when you don’t let people in. On the other hand, DO be careful what you share and with who. Not everybody in life has the same ideas, aspirations, likes, dislikes, and desires you do. Not for fear of offending anyone, but to keep yourself from getting butt-hurt if the reject you. Just mind your P’s and Q’s.

Just because someone says they love you doesn’t mean they are meant for you. There are SO many different types of love. And though they might temporarily fill the hole in your heart, you need to make sure they are really for you, and not just there to satisfy something that is missing within yourself. As hard as it is, you need to learn to love yourself. If you can be happy with yourself, then at that point you should look to bring someone else into the fold. If you don’t protect your heart, no one else will. Each piece that you give away means your heart will be smaller for the next person you try to share it with.

Try honesty. Though the truth may hurt someone, it’s only going to hurt you in the end if you keep things back, deny yourself the truth, or must constantly remember what you’ve said to whom and when. Living a life in shadows is not a life worth living at all, and you’re worth more than that.

Don’t agree to things just to make the people around you happy. They may be happy, but if it’s not what you want, you will be MISERABLE. Learn to stand up for yourself; learn how to say NO. The only people you have in this world to make happy are yourself and your children as you are raising them.

Also, don’t make decisions out of spite. You may get instant gratification at that point, but you’ll feel horrible later. Revenge, oftentimes, is not worth it.

Addiction and depression run in the family. You will be susceptible to both. Do not let either one of them grab you to the point that you don’t want to be anymore. You will have more people than you know or realize counting on you, caring about and loving you, and their world would be destroyed if you were to leave them because of a stupid mistake or depressive thinking. (At least, that's what they keep telling me!) I struggle with this, not daily, weekly, or monthly, but too often for it to be comfortable or considered a fleeting thought.

Reach out for help. You are stubborn and independent, and believe you can take on the world no matter what. In some aspects, you can. But there are times where, even if you don’t think you need it, it’s nice to know that someone has your back. Don’t be so hard-headed that you drive away those that truly want nothing more than to help you succeed in life’s journey.

Surround yourself with what makes you happy. Kids, cats, food, whatever. You only live once, as the saying goes, so why not make it the best that you can while you have the opportunity?

There are many things I look back upon and have those coulda, woulda, shoulda thoughts. Everyone does. But take the steps to make sure most your life doesn’t feel that way. Don’t look back in anger or regret at what you were like at 20 when you’re 50. Be happy that you have lived the life you have, and try to reap the benefits of being around for a long time.

The pulse,

on the right hand top corner of the computer screen,

has been beating

24 beats, wow my account feels alive.

with agitated gratitude I click to see

the souls hiding there

what color ink do they bleed?

what words make them feel alive when they read?

will I like your world as much as you kindly liked mine?

and if i don't is that fine? because it doesn't mean

that you don't shine but maybe I can't see in that frequency.

But always, they shine, illuminating words

and I find myself dancing with their metaphors like

I'm swimming in the air with birds.

I rent a free home for my ink at www.theprose.com

and I must say...It's a great place to stay.

I would tell you about my writing talent, if i had any. 

I'd call it my habit, and I am a junkie. Words aren't just a cluster of letters to me. 

Words are all that I see, and the ones I construe bare a heavy meaning to me. All things I write to you, big and small.

Written and thought in my tiny mental chasm of halls with door to explore. 

Verbal imagery amazes me and what's more is letters are images depicting imagined pictures with simply their shape! My brain is amazed at the levels I can stack them to, and they pile infinitely up. Guess that is what a writer's block would be if you didn't have any more of them to stack upon it. A solitary block is hard to have fun with, I'm sure. Words are social, but pure; which it is hard to be these days. 

I am truly a crazed fanatic!

Bombastic with a Lingual-Curious vigor, linguistics I stick with as my mental mentor.

Pour thoughts into me and I'll breath them out, in verse, for it is in me that this verbose  blood does course.

Therefore, I cannot claim talent, to state clearly to you. I have worn this urge towards words since I put on my meat suit. I am not sure if talent is just something you have to do, so I just can't claim it, though it would be nice to work with a group!

My name is Stori, it's nice to meet you.

tick tock.

i am too restless to sleep.

Rachmaninoff is playing in the background

it is 4:00am

the clock replies

before i’ve even had a chance to ask.

tick tock.

screams the ennui

screams the insomnia

screams the empty bottle of whisky next to me

lying there

useless and beautiful.

tick tock.

Rachmaninoff crescendos into

something

something that he makes me long for

something that i wish i was able

to make other people long for too.

something that

something.

tick tock.

is the sound of the liquid draining

as i take a long swig from epiphany

from the bottle of vodka i had forgotten about

until now.

tick tock.

Rachmaninoff segues into Op. 30 “Alla Breve”

the piano longs for the strings

the winds long for the brass

yet all i long for is sleep.

tick tock.

more vodka more inebriation

more inebriation more fatigue

until sleep is finally able to take me

is what is supposed to happen

is my rationality.

if only.

tick tock.

i take another drink.

now the vodka is half empty.

i feel good.

i feel happy.

i feel

everything but tired.

fuck.

tick tock.

screams the mocking clock.

the brass section enters at last

Rachmaninoff crescendos once more

the angry denouement approaches

in my head i can see the conductor sweating

i can see the solo trumpet about to have an aneurysm

tick tock.

drowns out the blaring euphoniums

drowns out the screeching trombones

drowns out the melancholy of the crickets

outside my window

outside this feeling

outside.

tick tock.

it asks.

glug glug

i reply.

tick tock.

Rachmaninoff finishes

the vodka lies empty

i can shamelessly admit

i am drunk.

tick tock.

i am too drunk to care.

too drunk retaliate

too drunk to sleep.

tick tock.

tick tock.

the nausea is nothing

i am nothing

nothing is anything

tick tock.

screams the fucking clock.

4:01am.

tick. fucking. tock.

Beautiful day like you

So warm and still

Your sun shines longer than

The day of May

I'll take a picture still

Your beauty will

Not fade like day on film

You'll always stay

Computers crash but not

back up or two

A microchip the cloud

Image your shroud

Forever framed insane

The looks of you

Forever beautiful

Of all the crowd

Unending day like you

Uploaded man

Forever please my eye

Handsome are you

Stem cell or clone you dear

Oh yes I can

But I prefer picture

Your eyes of blue

With camera and film

For all to see

Forever lovely your

Photo will be

Her smirk did nothing to ease my panic. I pulled at the device and if anything it only tightened.

"I can't. I'm so sorry, I just got curious and now I can't get it off."

"Aww poor girl. Well jail for you then."

"No!" I shout the word out as fear trickles through my veins. Her face hardens at my yell, and she steps forward her naked breasts almost touching me.

"Do you really think you're in a position to be yelling right now Ella Durley? I think not."

I feel my face heat up as she looks my body up and down. Her next words surprise me.

"I like your top. Can I have it?" It's a plain white t-shirt with a lacy neckline. Why would she want it?

"Sure." I whisper. She skips across the room and returns with a pair of scissors.

"Cool." She says before pulling me towards her with a grip on the shirt, and slides the blade of the scissors against the fabric.

She slices right up my side, just in front of my arm. "Oops." She giggles. "Kinda sliced your bra there. Do you want me to leave it as it is, or take it off?"

I don't know why I go with that choice. Perhaps it's because I can feel the bra slipping down my chest already, or perhaps it's because some kind of excitement bubbles inside of me like an overheated pot of water. But for whatever reason, I tell her to remove it.

I stand there wearing only my leggings, my hands still restrained when she leaves the room. She returns with a denim top that ties at the sides.

After slipping it over my head she laces up the sides and beckons me to follow her to her own room. She questions me whilst getting dressed.

"Did you like the magazines? " My face must be bright red. I burn with embarrassment but nod my head. I see there's no point in lying. It is what it is.

"Ok. I'm going to get dressed now and I won't be able to keep an eye on you properly. Face the TV, crossed legged and put your hands on your head."

I do exactly what she orders. I must be on my best behaviour. I don't think I can be sent to prison for what I've done but I know she'll be able to put me in a cell for the night.

Holding this position some how excites me, and before I know it my juices are spreading. My nipples have hardened and feel even more sensitive. They rub against the rough denim of the top leant to me.

My pussy aches as I keep my legs spread in the crossed position, and I squirm rubbing against my own foot to try and ease it.

"Stay the fuck still Ella! Or I swear to God himself I will tie you down." I stop. Is it bad that the thought of her tying me up only excites me further.

I don't understand this.

I'm completely straight. A one man gal. How am I even turned on?

"Right I have to take a phone call Ella." She says from behind me. "I want you to keep your position but if you wish, you can click the red button on the remote for the TV to come on. That's it. What's your friends name?"

"Yes ma'am. Ethan, is my friends name. Thank you. Miss." I have to address her this way. She's a police officer and I feel strange to not address her respectfully.

The door shuts and as soon as I hear it, I reach for the remote. I need to take my mind off things. I click the red button then chuck it out of the way before placing my hands back on my head.

The sound reaches my ears before anything shows on the screen. It's a female's loud moaning. Oh no. Please don't be porn. I'm not allowed to move again.

Then the pornographic film reveals itself. It's a teacher with two female students. She orders the students to do things to one another, and if they don't obey fast enough she whips their backsides with her cane. One girl is then laid upon her desk while her school friend licks her pussy.

When she doesn't speed up at her teachers command, the teacher uses a dildo to force her speed. She rams the toy into the girls pussy over and over again. Fucking her over the desk whilst screaming at her to lick faster.

My hips are continuously moving as if I'm the girl in the film. I can't help it. A small moan escapes me and as soon as it does, I turn around to try and concentrate on something different.

She stands there watching me.

She never left the room.

"Turn back around and watch it Ella. I didn't tell you to move." Her voice is deeper. More sexual than before, and I obey her straight away.

I've never been this excited. And whenever I have got excited, I've sorted it. I've never had to hold back and the fact that I've been ordered to keep a certain position and not move is killing me.

I continue to watch. Now the girls use a huge double ended dildo and ride each end. Their mistress telling them to go faster, occasionally rubbing their clits or squeezing their nipples. When one comes, squirting her juices against her friends body she's forced to speed up while she licks her come off of the girl.

My body begins to move again and moans leave me. This is torment. I feel her hands come from behind. She keeps her hands on top of the denim, rubbing my tits.

"Are you being a bad girl Ella?" I push my breasts against her hands. The rough denim stimulating my swollen nipples.

"Ahh. Yes officer, I'm being a bad girl." She strokes her hand down my stomach and slips it into my leggings. I go to look what she's doing when she yanks my hair forcing my head back up.

"Tut, tut, tut. No bad girl. I told you to watch the TV. Don't look anywhere else." I watch again. There's somebody else starring in the film now.

A male student.

He stands with his back against the wall completely naked and a girl is ordered to ride his dick by pushing her back against him.

She must keep standing while she fucks him. I feel the toy as the officer slips it into my cotton panties, and then she turns it on before going back to my nipples.

Again above the top.

The vibrations are light, but I already feel like coming. Her teeth nibble at my neck as I watch the girl pounding her arse against the male student.

Her legs spread wide allow the other female student to get between her legs and suck on her clit.

"Ahh." I'm about to come when she releases my tits and removes herself from the bed.

"Come on then. Let's take you to Ethans."

I struggle to stand with the light vibrations running against me, and Once I'm up I try to get my still restrained hands into my leggings.

"No!" She snaps. "Leave that there for the ride. We're going to be having some fun."

She throws all of the items from the bed into the cardboard box and walks through the door, Before turning back to me. "Oh, and don't you dare fucking come. Save it!"

Take your worste nightmare.                                                                           Take your worste nightmare and        times it by ten.                                     That's me in that court there.             Getting the blame.                             Yes I've done bad things.                    But I've paid my dues.                        So this time you're kidding me.          What did I do ?                                 I thought God would save me.            He'd see how I pray.                           But he wasn't watching.                     Not this darned day.                          So take your worste nightmare.           Then times it by ten.                          Cause I'm on the bus.                         Back to hell once again.                     I know the procedure.                        All human rights gone.                      God knows for how long.                   Please take your worste nightmare.    And times it by ten.                            Cause fate has no preference.              Of choice in its men.                          And so starts the life.                         Of take what you can.                         Cause show any weakness.                   You're floored once again.                 A life with camelions.                          Who show true or not.                        And waiting to see.                            Who's after you're lot.                       So this is my nightmare.                     In fighting off ten.                              And sleeping with strangers.               AND SO WE BEGIN.........