As a rite for the black and brown lives you make light,

We set fire at night.

For every brother, sister, father, and mother you smite,

We set fire at night.

Until we are more than hindsight, but foresight and insight,

We set fires at night.

Because you rewrite history for the white knight, painting him in good-light.

We set fire at night.

Because white is synonymous with right,

We set fires at night

Because our plight isn’t an oversight but a deliberate slight.

We set fires at night.

Because you’ve denied us of every human right,

We set fires at night.

Until the system is set right,

We set fires at night.

Until we can walk in daylight without fright,

We set fires at night.

Until we receive life’s birthright,

We’ll set fires every night.

As four royal guards burst into my room, I drop my mother's bloody eyeball. It plops onto my bed, staining its path in crimson.

In front of my bed, my mother curls over in pain, screaming and cupping her face as blood slithers in-between her fingers. Stomping around in knee-length gray boots, the guards’ wave around silver blasters that look like the horns of a Hercules beetle. The tallest guard stays by the entrance, the shortest one stands by me, the thinnest guard secures the wall with windows, and the more muscular guard protects my mother, the queen.

Clicking on his earpiece, the muscular guard commands, “Medic in the princess chamber! The queen is wounded!”

The medics that enter and leave almost instantly, carry my mother out in a levitating stretcher.

“Halley, Helio, guard the princess!” the muscular guard shouts at the thin and short guard before everyone leaves the room.

"Understood!" They say in unison, saluting.

For a while, the thin guard paces between the wall and the entrance, looking out the windows. The thin guard suddenly calls out and waves the other over. “Helio, come see this.”

"Excuse me, my lady." Helio bows his head before walking over. The two stare out the window and whisper to each other.

I hug my knees and rest my chin on my forearms. At the foot of my bed, my mother's eye scorns me and forces me to relive the memory of what I did.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Before my father passed away, he gave me a hedgehog. We named him Oaky, and I tied a red ribbon around him in a bow…. Then, when Oaky died, I slept with his red ribbon wrapped around my hand.

Several weeks later, in the middle of the night, I awoke to my mother pulling it away. She held one end and I held the other. I won’t let you down, not again. I gripped the ribbon and pulled, but so did my mother.

“Cas, why do you seem so sad still?" Mother asks, relaxing her pull.

I look down, still holding the ribbon. “Because I miss my dad. "

“As do I, but you’re fifteen and a member of the court. You are more than a pretty princess. Now, look at me when we speak. I’m addressing you as a pillar of the court and princess of the system, not as my daughter.”

The tears fall like stars as I look at her. “It hurts, Mom.”

“It will always hurt.” With her free hand, my mother grabs the necklace my father gave her. “We’ve told you that the light of every star will fade, but maybe now you’ll feel the gravity of those words. The people need to see you, the court needs all its pillars, and I need you to be strong, so please understand why I do this.” My mother yanks the ribbon away.

I reach out for the ribbon but fall onto the bed. Mother steps back.

Looking at the sheets, I lose control of my voice. “Mom! Please!”

“Look at me...”

I avoid her gaze and stare at the ribbon in her hand. Focus!. Draw the bow towards you! Blood rushes to my head and my vision tunnels. Pull!

“Look at me!”

My concentration breaks. I look her in the eyes the moment I release the energy. With my mind, what was meant to get the ribbon back, pulls out her eye and sends it flying to me. I gasp, “Mom, I’m sorry!”

She screams and cups her face.

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By the time Isabella Garcia gets home, she has already washed and sanitized her hands dozens upon dozens of times. She does this because she is a medical supervisor for a company by the Same’s Auto Arena. Ms. Garcia explains, "I have to be highly precautious. The virus is very aggressive. You can't be certain if you've had contact with it or not, and I am more at risk because I have to be in contact with medical personnel and patients." However, her health is not the driving factor for her cautious behavior. Her daughter is.

If you want to know more about Ms. Garcia here is a link to the rest of the article:

https://tbcltx.com/covid-19-and-faith/

Hello to everyone I specifically tagged and all of the prose. I got a job as a content writer for a small newspaper company in my hometown. I felt too weird sharing this right away because I have a lot of doubts about my work, but right now, I feel like I need honest feedback on the pieces.

I still feel weird posting a link to it like I’m trying to sell something because, on one hand, the articles need the views and clicks. So, I’ve thought also about posting the articles here directly. So, What do you guys think? Should I post the articles or do you feel okay about going to the website through the link?

Thank you for your thoughts! I’d greatly appreciate any feedback or comments!

Then,

Emitted a light that bubbled in.

The animal yowled.

Disgruntled, it lowered itself to the floor.

The machine shot globs of light at the beast.

It sprang upright.

But

It was too slow.

Now, trapped in the air, it resigned itself to its fate.

Something seemed to close in on her.

She didn’t move.

The machine listened.

She had five minutes.

She took the chance.

Pain.

Broken.

Time up.