The smell of smoke lingered long after the blaze had died. It was tragic how one of our own had died, but we must move on. His burning ceremony lasted all of ten minutes.

"We must keep moving," I said as I threw my bag over my shoulder. James, Matthew, and I started making our way back to the road. The trip seemed quieter without Craig. The guys weren't goofing off or hitting eachother like they used to. Hunting down wesen is a difficult job and can suck the life out of most of us, but Craig always seemed to make it more interesting. He would always make bets on who would win or what wesen did what crime.

There was a sound in the woods near us and we all stopped in our tracks. My hand silently went towards my gun as I made my way to the sound. With each step my breathing got quieter and my hand got closer. Once my hand reached the gun I was at the tree. I whipped my gun up and turned the tree. My jaw dropped.

There sitting behind the tree tied up and gagged was Craig. The same Craig we just burned.

#wesen #hunting #burial #fire #Craig

Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pinched herself she would wake up. But she didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream world where she was with him. It has been months since he said goodbye then went off with the military and got shot. She wasn't there for his last breaths, but she was told that he spoke of her.

In order to stay in this dream world where she could feel his warm embrace again, she woke up temporarily. She woke up long enough to take a cocktail of painkillers and sleeping pills. Perhaps she'll sleep longer, she thought. Perhaps he won't leave if she didn't wake up.

Softly, she drifted back to sleep. She missed him so much. She craved to be with him again. And there he was, her perfect soldier. No gun shot wound. No dirt covering his body. Just his clean uniform, loving smile, and his outstretched hand. She took his hand and he lead her to her perfect dream world where she'd be with him forever.

#military #soldier #fallensoldier #suicide #dream #dreamworlds

At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice was to buy an islad secluded from the world. We've never been social people considering our high school experience was full of arrogant assholes who never accepted anyone.

The second choice was to buy a cabin in the mountains so our grandpa can go somewhere peaceful before he passed away. Our crazy aunt was always up his ass. She couldn't do anything for herself because the drugs ate away a majority of her brain cells, so he had to do everything for her. Also, our uncle had a cat hoarding problem that was so severe that every time a cat was in his yard he brought it inside.

Finally, our third choice was we'd donate it to trustworthy charities and help pay hospital bills for those in need. After suffering for most of our lives we decided that we should help those who are suffering as well. Somebody has to make the world less painful afterall, so if we could do so we would.

We decided to get the black liquid tested before we offered it to any of the big name companies, such as Shell. It took a few months of waiting onsidering the testing lab was across seas. Customs can be a prick when it comes to that. When we got our results back, it turned out that the black liquid wasn't oil at all. In fact, it just proved everyone's growing suspicions: we have a demon among us.

#demons #blackliquid #black #wealth #options

I open my eyes in this empty bed

With thoughts of you filling my head

I sit up and wonder what you'd do

With none of this completely new

I sit here alone in this empty bed

With dreams of you filling my head

Dreaming of how things could have been

Some of which consider sin

I get up alone from this empty bed

With hopeful ideas filling my head

Ideas of a brand new start

Thoughts of you warming my heart

A shower and shave leaves the empty house

Through lamp-lit streets, a quiet mouse

Streaks of fire in his stride

Thoughts of you, filled with pride

He comes to a door, marked 909

A cold wind blowing down his spine

A knock on the door, once or thrice

Praying for virtue and nothing of vice

The door opens, and to her surprise

She sees him standing, thoughts of demise

She invites him in, he gladly accepts

As he walks up boarded steps

She takes him to the parlor room

As he thinks on what to do

She asks him what he came here for

Thoughts of bolting for the door

But this young man, he chose his part

As he walked with golden heart

He took her in, close to his chest,

Both finally able to come to rest

They shared a look, a laugh, a kiss, a cry

As they knew they'd just fine

Because of you,

your hand mine

I know everything will be just fine.

-h

They call him the King of Manipulation. Deception was his degree earned at the university of good looks. Girls who mistake these skills for dominance look at him with lustful gazes; the ones who know the truth turn their heads. His life is full of a constant mission of getting in the pants of as many girls as possible. He takes thrill from watching hearts break.

They call her the Queen of Compassion. Compassion was her degree earned at the university of a good heart. Guys who mistake these skills for an easy one-night-stand look at her with lustful gazes; those who know the truth look at her with loving eyes. Her life is full of a constant mission to help fix as many people as possible. She takes thrill from mending broken hearts.

Maestros of two drastically different arts such as these should never associate with one another; it's like putting a lion and sheep in the same room and expecting them not to eat each other. However, this exact thing happened a month from this day.

It's not like it was the end of the world. There wasn’t a zombie apocalypse. No meteor fell from the sky to wipe out mankind. No spur-of-the-moment nuclear warfare. Just a coffee spilt on a shirt and books spewed everywhere. He was rushing to get to his wrestling match; she was trying to get to her study group. Neither of them were looking where they were going when they ran into each other. She felt terrible. He saw his next victim.

He helped pick up her books while she apologized for the, now stained, coffee on his shirt a million times in the matter of seconds. With a charming, yet secretly devious, smile he informed her that it would all be okay, it’s just a shirt anyway. A short conversation later and they had plans to get coffee together the next day.

The coffee date was a success. She found the next person she was going to help; he found his next goal for a one-night-stand. They both began to talk frequently, but the more they talked the more she fell for him and his manipulative ways. In her eyes, he wasn’t a manipulative person. He was simply just a man who was hurting deeply and was in need of some form of comfort.

A few months later, the King of Manipulation finally succeeded at his goal to get in the pants of the Queen of Compassion. It took him a lot of work. He told her that he loved her. He bought her fancy things. He told her that he needed her. He convinced her that he was broken and she was the only one that could help. He made her feel beautiful, cared for, loved.

The morning after, the Queen of Compassion woke up to an empty bed, a stingingly cold hotel room, and no note. She tried calling him. Showing up to where they first met. Talking to his friends. Then she realized: he made her feel like he was the only one for her only to get to have another notch on his belt. The King of Manipulation had yet another victim of whom he ruined forever.  

The day began just as any other day has; with a groan and a struggle to get up. This time the groan wasn't from me. My eyes snapped open just in time to see a decaying face hovering above me. Reflexively, I pushed the grotesque figure as far away as possible, which wasn't far enough so I punched it even farther. This gave me enough time to grab the lamp off my bedside table and bashed the monster's skull in. I sat back for a few minutes to realize what happened. Looks like the apocalypse is here. Wish me luck.

My heart begins to ache for you,

I do not know why it is,

All this torment you put me through,

Your treatment was worst than his.

You left me here stuck not knowing,

It broke my heart forever,

I started sitting quietly,

Our relationship I sever.

My heart does know you’re bad for me,

For some reason it won’t care,

I just wish it would be set free,

So the thought of you isn’t there.

Do you think that when you got to know me you bit off more than you can chew?

When everything fell apart did you go back to the drawing board?

Should I stick around to see if I am a challenge too big for you?

Or should I leave on my own accord?

They say actions speak louder than words,

but your actions to back up your words occur once in a blue moon,

Your affection towards me is definitely absurd,

Yet you always know how to make me swoon,

I thought our love was a blessing in disguise,

but you can’t judge a book by its cover,

Don’t believe me? I guess we never were really able to see eye to eye,

This would explain why you had your secret lover,

I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’d never,

but pictures paint a thousand words,

Your phone was filled with a million pictures of you and her,

Well, I guess, you can’t have the best of both worlds,

Speak of the devil and you appear on the screen of my phone,

‘drastic times call for drastic measures’ I say as I press answer,

I hear a giggle on the other side and instantly know you aren’t alone,

That’s when I go off my rocker,

I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate,

I told everyone around us how I wouldn’t be caught dead near you,

They all took your side like you were innocent,

That was until I made a long story short about how you made me blue,

There has always been a method to my madness,

The girl you loved gave you a taste of your own medicine,

In the heat of the moment I made your life a mess,

but then again it takes two to tango in this heartbreak I’d gladly cause again