Lost’s Laughter

Remember I’m a dangerous character in your mind that you’ve been fighting again for years Kim, and now that I’ve been let free its always a consistent daily battle, for you to even bother hanging by a thread. While you keep attempting to be this happy person you are, I’m going to have my fun and ruin every possible opportunity you have going for you.

Stop talking Kim you talk too much. You never know when to shut up, you never know when to stop picking. You’re still a kid everyone sees it, but you don’t even know it. You’re easy to convince you’re different to throw away. Kim what are you doing? You run so much you can’t even stop yourself. You’re almost out of time. Everyone sees you running but no one sees you stopping for a break. No one sees you at a rest stop Kim. You let me and pride get in the way. You pray, but you don’t rest your soul. You talk but you use the wrong words. You’re given suggestions but refuse them. You cannot be forced, nor can you be controlled only detained by the pain that holds you.

fallen angelSo, let it out let them in. Let them see the repairs to the damages that need to be done. You push everyone away because they can’t handle you? Kim you can’t even handle yourself. You panicked at a flare up that could have been fixed in a minute you refused to fix it when it started. How much times will you throw yourself under a bus instead of at a bus Kim? You’ve already had your heart feeling like it almost explodes a few times what more are you going to put yourself through? Everyone still sees you as that angelic little person not a full-grown fallen angel.

Every fight we have you lose a feather, you burn your feathers, you fly so high to get out of a box you are held captive in. You’ll always have that stupid part of you, Kim, that stupid part of you which shows you’re hopeful, that shows you’re stubborn. You just need to stop talking, because you talk too much, no one believes anything you say, it always shows up the opposite way of how you want it to be said. So, stay silent you’re burning your wings. You’re killing yourself emotionally. You know, you’re a broken record, but no matter what you do to change it, you’re record spins and scratches every record you’ve fixed.

Kim, you’re such an easy person to break. Kim, you have no idea what’s happening, you see it, but you can’t always act upon it to fix is as quick as I destroy it. I have ripped your soul into pieces as it heals. I’ve tugged every string that surrounds your heart enough you’ll turn yourself into a walking time bomb in your health. Kim, the bottom of your box never ends, but once you’re one the ground you need to stay there because that’s where you belong. From the top of this box the view is a beautiful chaos waiting to happen. You’ve grasped everything you have, and I’ve killed every piece of it. That war cry of yours that you made, that was completely ignored by everyone. These little cries that you have going on isn’t going to work anymore Kim. Look at you, you’re fallen angel self, is burnt and bruised internally, you’re barely even able to stand up.

You see this, this little flame you have in you burning? This little flame that’s your grit, your persistence, your hope, your confidence, anything that pushing you through to make it get through the day. It’s getting smaller, put a little bit more water it will go poof and fade out. When it fades out, you’ll be that person who filled your heart thirteen years ago. That person who was completely alone, mentally, physically, and emotionally. You’ll be that person who’s been alone all her life, someone who’s friendless, someone who’s quiet, someone who lives under a rock. You’ll be that person in a pitch-black space, and no one will help you get out. You’ll be stuck again but this time you’ll be there forever, and with school coming up it’s going to be an easy street to put you there. I’m going to trap you forever in darkness Kim.

Escaping Pain and Murder


She sits in the dark, she tries to reach for the light, she falls and trips, but gets back up. The light distance itself farther and farther from her, they tell her perfection is what we want and it’s not what you have. So back away, back away into the darkness, back away from the goals you’ve built up, back away from every good thing that you’ve known. No matter what you say you’re not perfect and perfection is what we want. Broken is what you are and fear is what you’re made up. Bravery is what you lack and soul is what you’re losing, she screams internally as loud as she can because in her reality, everyone is going about their business like there’s really nothing is happening. She’s got everything going  for her, she’s got the best of friends, the best of family and has nothing to hide. Her mind screams internally screams at her telling she lacks the perfection, the precision to be on the spot, to be the right person for anyone to see as a good person.

She sees her faults but her faults aren’t flaws their her personality. She disagrees with all the positive feed back and makes all kinds of silence in her reality. She holds on to what she can but forgets the rest of move on, she burns her brain to forget the voices that stop her from running, the voices that stop her from speaking, the voices that stop her from trying, the voices that stop her from being the person she wants to be. She tries to reach from for the light, she falls a thousand feet per second, and she sees a mirror. She sees her reflection in the mirror but that’s not her, she sees the person in the mirror, she sees they’re covered, covered in scars, covered in regrets, covered in pain that continuously revives, continuously breaks her confidence, and then again she’s told she lacks perfection She lacks the personality to be herself. She remembers that the reflection in the mirror isn’t her, that’s not who she is, that’s not where she is at in this moment. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, she wasn’t alive when she was lonely. She a figment of imagination from the piece of spec to the human eye.

She drags herself across the floor, because her feet won’t let her move she pulls herself with her arms, because her legs won’t help her feet move. She scratches dirt to pick herself up, and attempts to stand up, but feels a blow to her back. She falls again in agonizing pain, and a get she pulls herself up from the dirt, again another blow to her face. She’s been beaten bruised and thrown on her back, she lands on her knees, then stands back up. She receives a blow to the face, and lands back on the floor. But she still forces herself to stand up, and takes another blow straight to the chest where her weak heart is found. She falls again, and screams in excruciating pain, from the last hit to her chest. She stops moving and her whole body freeze not being able to move. She begins to internally scream, “Get the fuck up, get the fuck up, get the fuck up, you need to move, you can’t stay here. Get up now!!!” She keeps to screaming herself constantly, “Get the fuck up, you need to keep moving, they’re fucking coming back to kill you, get the fuck up already.” “Look, I know you’re hurt, tired, and can’t take this anymore, but that’s the reason why I need you to get back up and start running like there’s God damn tomorrow!”

She begs herself, “Please fucking get up we’re almost at the light, I swear once we’re in the light we’ll be fucking safe I promise, but right now we need to get here and we need to move. We need to leave, we need to get far away as possible because Pain and Murder are coming they will kill you! This has taken too long and we should have left long time a go, and this is our only fucking chance to leave.” She forces her weak-hearted, beaten and bruised body to gain one last strength to run to the light, before Pain and Murder come back after her, she escapes to the light and escapes every path that would leave any kinds of traces to the light. She reaches the light and finally lets out a breath of relief, she sees her bruises disappear and her heart is no longer weak, but stronger than ever.

The Sounds We Hear

A/N: So in the spirit of Halloween, I wrote a short piece. Hopefully it is good.  

The Sounds We Hear

She awoke to the sounds of someone knocking. It was loud and violent, and it was coming from the direction of her closed closet.




It when, echoing throughout the old house. It sounded as if whoever was on the other side of her closet door wanted in or out very badly. It was frighten. Yet…

Pulling her blanket closer to her chin, the young girl frowned in confusion. No one but her and her grandmother, from her mother side of the family, were currently residing in the old house. And her grandmother was the serious type, not the kind to pulled pranks such as this. Trying to frighten children was too beneath the older woman.

Which meant either there was someone else in her closet or she was imagining things. And since no one else could have entered their home, being so heavily guided by her grandmother new security system, without them knowing the young Virginia wondered if maybe she was imaging things. Which was strange because like her grandmother she too was of the serious kind.  Little adult as her mother liked to referred to her at times. Yet…the sound continued.




It when, causing the young girl to questioned her sanity. Which was even more frightened then the knocking.

“You are being silly,” She chastised herself. “There is nothing there and you are not losing your mind. There is a perfectly logical reason behind the knocking. Most likely a toy malfunctioning.”

Leaning over in the direction of her bedside table, little Virginia searched for the switched to her night light. Maybe if she placed the light on the noise would stopped. Or maybe she could locate whatever was producing the sound and put to rest her restless mind.

Locating the cord, the young girl pulled it. Quickly darkest flown and light took its position, filling the room.
The knocking continued.

“So it is not a person,” She whispered to herself in somewhat of a relief. If it had been a person they would have paused a bit, even if for a second, once the light had gone on. Yet the knocking processed at the same paced.

Giggling a bit at her own silliest at believing she was going crazy, the young girl took in a deep breath -right nothing to fear- and pushed her blanket away. She stood.

Strolling over to the closet, she processed to open it. Grabbing the doorknob, she made to turn the handle when she noted something peculiar. The knocking noise had stopped and an awful smell was drifting from beneath the door. It smelled of blood, vomit and rotten eggs. Removing her hand of the knob, the young girl froze. For a moment she thought about a horror movie she and her best friend had gone to see a couple of days before her visited to her grandmother’s and her heart began to race. She took a step back and the noise returned.

This time it sounded as if whoever was on the other side had switched from using their knuckles for knocking to using their body or at least something heavier.




It when and the young girl fled the room, screaming.