Driving at night is one of my favorite parts of a trip, especially when it's raining. The headlights of oncoming cars kind of light up the rain and turns the water droplets into golden glitter. Driving in the rain reminds me of a really old Hollywood movie, with all the glitz and gold tumbling down against a dark backdrop. I sighed as I massaged my neck. After spending a whole day at research conferences, all I wanted to do was go home. That's another part of taking trips that I really liked, missing home. It's nice to have some place to return to, and a bed with soft and clean sheets that smelled like cat fur. I yawned and rubbed my face, rolling my shoulders to expel the tightness around my neck.

Without warning, the car engine started sputtering.

I groaned. I'm too tired to deal with this, I sighed pulled over, stopping the car before I leaned over and squinted at the gauges. Just as I thought, the oil gauge read somewhere between negative fifty and 'fuck you'. I sighed again, I seemed to be doing that a lot these days, with all the paperwork I'm buried under, I'm surprised I'm still living.

I undid my seat belt, cursing as I took in my surroundings, trees, road, and more trees. Great, I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere. I felt in my pockets for my phone, and flipped all of them inside out before I remembered that I had left it at home. Just great. I stretched wearily and yawned.

I grabbed my jacket and opened the car door, draping the soft material over my head as I stepped out into the rain. Mmm, cold, with just the right amount of freezing. I slammed the door shut, regretting it almost immediately when I caught the edge of my jacket with the door. After shuffling around and tugging quite a bit, I freed my jacket and observed my handiwork. The jacket sleeve was flattened and a little ripped from the mini war I had with my car door, because I was too lazy to reopen the door to free my jacket.

I locked the car before walking a little farther ahead, my one and only formal jacket getting soaked in the rain. But it still beats getting sick.

I stepped forward and held out my hand, thumbs up.

The cars passed my by, and the rain just kept falling. I was sick and tired of this day, and the dark forest was creeping me out. I have this relentless feeling that something was watching me, but it wasn't uncomfortable, guess I was too tired to care. Another car flashed by, effectively dousing my already soaked clothes with yet another layer of freezing water. I shivered and cursed, but what can I do? Chase the car down?

To my surprise, the car skidded to a halt, and the crazy idiot of a driver started to back the car towards me. I muttered under my breath, but took a step back nonetheless.

The car stopped just infront of me, and the windows rolled down to reveal a scantily clad guy behind the wheel. He only had neon suspenders and from what I could see, extremely tiny shorts. His nipples were pierced with silver hoops, and he had a single amber labret below his full lower lip. My foggy and sleep depraved brain was still trying to process all this when he suddenly broke into a toothy grin.

"Want a ride?" His voice and smile were very pleasant, but I was very uncomfortable with his near-nakedness.

"Um." I hesitated, is this safe? For the first time, I started doubting my choice to hitchhike.

His face dropped and his blue eyes widened. "Oh God! I'm so sorry, oh my gosh, I didn't mean that. I meant to ask you if you'd like to y'know, come with us so we can drop you off somewhere. Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry." He rambled and blushed, his lip piercing glinted in the dim light. Someone in the car guffawed, and the person in the passenger seat leaned into the light, laughing. "Sure, Adrian, that's totally not what you meant to say." He was, like Adrian, also dressed in clandestine clothing, except that he had shiny black straps buckled across his chest.

He thought that I-Oh. I fought to keep the blush off my face : "No No No, it's alright, it doesn't- I mean, I didn't even notice, and yeah, sure, I would love to bum a ride." I stuttered a bit, and my face went positively tomato.

"Oh, okay!" Adrian grinned again, his smile was infectious, and I grinned right back in relief. "And, um, about our, um, clothes, sorry they're a little embarrassing. We uh, just came back from a PRIDE parade, so um, yeah, we don't usually dress like this....so.....Oh yeah! I'm Adrian, this is Derek, and in the backseat is Brian. Do you want to go into the backseat? I mean, if you'd prefer the front seat or something-"

"It's okay, I'll go in the back. Thanks Adrian." I smiled in relief that I wasn't just about to be picked up by weirdos. Adrian is really nice, and the way that he babbles is kind of endearing.

I opened the car door to find, to my surprise, a guy dresses in a brown hoodie and a pair of jeans. I crawled into the car, dripping water everywhere, and stared a little at the surprising amount of clothes on Brian.

"Hey man, welcome to the straight club - wait, are you?"

That surprised a laugh out of me. "Yeah 100%," I said , nodding my head, " and by the way, I'm Christian, nice to meet you."

We drove along for the better part of an hour. While Adrian babbled and basically retold his life story. I've now learned that they are all college students at the same school, Adrian studied history, and Brian and Derek studied bio-mechanics. Adrian also has 3 cats, a lizard, 2 birds, and a hamster.

I gradually warmed up to the dysfunctional bunch. I was in University not long back, and at 29, I'm still not that old yet. Being with Adrian, Derek, and Brian was reminding me of those crazy days in Uni with my friends. The feeling was quite nice, but a little depressing too. I soon found myself laughing as Brian described a prank he's pulled on his professor that involved a lukewarm turkey.

We laughed ourselves silly, and continued the drive in silence, too worn out from laughing so hard.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Adrian screamed, slamming his foot down on the pedal.

"What? Who lit the fuse to your dildo?" Derek retorted, as Brian jumped in his seat, jolted awake from his sleep.

I had bumped by head on the window when Adrian screamed, I immediately looked out, squinting into the darkness. "What did you see?" I was more curious than mad. I've been freaked out by nothing too many times for me to count. Everyone makes these mistakes.

"THERE!" Adrian screamed, stabbing his finger at a spot in the forest, "CAN'T YOU SEE IT?"

We all looked, and looked. Finally, I turned back to Adrian. "Adrian, there's nothing-"

"DUCK!" Brian grabbed me by the back of the neck and wrenched me flat to the seat.

I slammed onto the seat, then looked up just in time to see a black silhouette hurl itself at the car. 

Cigarette tips

glowing like fireflies

from red sharp lips

the smoke

curls and hangs uncertainly in the air

like wisps of grey silk

ans tangling in her graying hair dyed black

Long slim fingers

lacquer nails glimmering in the dim lamplight

the pulse fluttering at her soft neck

the skin, worn for ages, is soft and folds like tan leather

the gentle arch of her wrist in lace gloves

tarnished too, by the dust of time

smoke rings and puckered lip stains

purple blue hooker eye shadow from an era long past

the butterfly that danced at night has grown old and weary of her stage

yet she still craves her youth's beauty

lush breasts and plush thighs

her voice once a sweet moaning purr to the ears

now a stuttering engine of a car

rusted by smoke and liqueur

her lips are still sticky and red

but that's all that remains

a red red red mouth and glowing cigarettes

an ages prostitute reclines in the dim light in a husk of her former beauty

reminisce 

the memories in the gray elusive wisps

Cigarette tips

glowing like fireflies

Ashes ashes

falling like sighs

Remember

I 

love

hate

resent

and hold you dear

dear agony, who am I without you?

As I crumple over these sheets of tarnished paper

scratching incoherent nonsense like errant foot prints 

of some ill begotten bird

the thoughts spill like marbles in an hourglass

crash and tinkle against each other

dear agony, 

how I dread and welcome your coming

I drink and drink until there is nothing left

yet there is still you 

you, who creep, like a beautiful slithering flame

dark and unwanted in the flabby conscience of my mind

and set my words aflame

these volatile emotions you trigger

and yet without, I'm nothing,

flat empty landscape painting, 

until you with your brush dipped in my tears and blood

pain the jagged landscape of my reality

dear agony,

I love you

I loathe you

I hate you I need you

don't leave, 

you're all that I have left

It's important, but I just don't know what it is. 

That's my take on all things regarding my life, so here in the username, I made a funny little pun, or is it a metaphor? 

If I were to make an anagram with my username, I would write : IT. Deny it. or : Y I deny it. Sounds funny, but means a lot, if you were to take the time to think why. 

At the current time of signing up for Prose, I was struggling with who I am, and I also began a project named Identity, to find who I am and to change myself into the person I want to be. The project went something like this : each night, I would write something to the me of the next day, to remind me why I want to change, and how. 

You see, I had this problem with forgetting, it's almost as if I wake up a completely different person everyday, and I forget everything that I cared for the day before. Sounds fake, but this is the best I can explain it. Everyone wakes up and they're still THEM, but I can't do that, so I tried to pin down my ever shifting moods with a reminder journal.

Identity, it's also something that changes over the course of a lifetime, it's ambiguous, and it doesn't pin me down into a set personality nor does it indicate my style, which is good, I can write anything, and the name would not sound off in context to my story. I don't have to conform to a Sarah persona or a Liam personality, Identity is vague, and gives me breathing space to be wierd.

forget

the clock ticks on 

in every moment wasted

a life lived

insignificant

as the dandelion puff 

drifting along aimlessly

where ever the wind goes

breath

the leaves turn brown

then green and yellow and brown again

seasons pass

decades fly

soon there is nothing left 

but a buried memory

to be soon forgotten

sleep

deep beneath the soil

warm and musky earth envelops the dreams

fly high on those dappled wings

sleep forever

never wake

forget

                Mother does not even hesitate before she backhands me across the face. 

                Ithaigo's POV 

                 I fall backwards, reeling from her blow, and slam into the dusty table.

               "Ithaigo! I cannot BELIEVE what you have done. STEALING bread? Have you no SHAME? What next? stealing the ring off of your dead Grandmother's finger?" Mother seethed. 

               "Ella was hungry." I forcibly kept my expression and voice flat and even. In truth, I am ashamed for taking the loaf of bread, but I must be resolute. Desperate times call for desperate action. " They are already dead, Mother, bread is nothing to the dead." I continued, earning myself another slap from my mother. Good. I deserved it. 

             A hiccup echoed through the silence as Ella sobbed from her curled position under the window. The dusty afternoon light glinted off the golden strands in her otherwise dark hair, and lit up her silhouette with a halo of light. 

              Father watched me and mother from his seat next to Ella and the window, he was furious, I can tell, but he is tongueless and unable to convey his anger. A courtesy of the king's dungeon guards. Father's eyes met mine, he looked away and angrily shook his head before leaving with a long, heaving sigh. His disappointment stung more than mother's palm. I took the suffering silently. I did wrong, but it was worth my pride to keep my family fed. 

             "Ithaigo, you must understand, in this desolate time, the only thing we have left is our pride." Mother's voice shook from her tears, and she paused to swipe at them with a grimy handkerchief. " But you gave up your pride for a single loaf of bread, Ithaigo, what have you done?"

            "I feel no remorse." The third time I have ever told a lie, and it was frighteningly easy.

              Mother lunged forward, her face twisted into a mask of fury. There are wrinkles on her ageless face now where there used to be smooth skin. Worry and grief had marred her beauty. 

            "GET OUT !" Mother screamed over Ella's sobs, "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE!"

             I clenched my teeth, but swallowed down the rising tears. I plastered a savage smirk on my features and forced my arm to move in the motion of a mock salute before I stepped out from the shack, keeping my steps jaunty and mocking, even as the tears ran down my face. 

...

               I used to be a wealthy merchants son. But that was a long time ago, before this kingdom went to hell. It's funny really, our kingdom used to be the trade center of the realm, our streets were once filled with travelers, revelers, and nobility from other lands. Our king loved his people, and we praised him in the manner akin to worship. But I suppose all things fall and crumple and dies, and so our kingdom did. As soon as the dastardly prince stepped onto the throne, the land had died. And since then, dust and the desert had slowly swallowed our once lush oasis of a kingdom as the newly crowned king watched from the leisure of his golden palace. 

              Mother was a lady of high breeding, born and raised in the beautiful garden's of Grandmama's orchards. Father was a trader of silks and jewels and the most sought after across the realm. They would never survive this harsh, fallen kingdom, having lounged, all their life, in pillows of silk and taffeta, with servants for everything. They still believe that everything will go back to the way they were before. They are naive. This world that i live in now is the harsh reality, where everyone is at everyone else's throats, where the strong prevails and the weak rot in the dust. But they prefer to dream of days long past and dead. 

               I sighed, lowering myself onto the rooftop's surface with a grunt. My back aches from manual labor in the king's docks and stables. 

               The stars overhead are coldly bright, and the moonlight is sallow, as if sick with fever. I stretched and closed my eyes. One day, I will personally flay the bastard who calls himself our king with his own teeth, but now, it is time for me to rest. I hope my family fares well tonight. It's the best for them not to see me anymore, not until I have killed the king.  

                They will never understand me. 

...

                 Damian's POV 

                 The swords met with a metallic ringing as me and my brother dueled. My shirts is bloody and gashed, while he is immaculate and grinning from ear to ear. I'm losing strength, and he sensed it like a hound after a hare. At the next strike, when our swords me again, he brought his foot up and kicked me in the throat. 

                 My sword dropped to the ground with a clang as I flew backwards, landing on a blasted golden column. My spine snapped in half with a sickening crack against the gilded floors. I could feel bone protruding from the skin of my back as I lay, moaning and bleeding on the palace's pretty floors. 

                 Brown boots stepped into my field of view, and cloth rustled as my brother bent down and took my severed spine with his hands. Another crack echoed in the silent room as he set the bones straight, and I laughed in my pain as my body slowly knit itself back into my wretched self.

               "Had enough yet? Damian?" I didn't have to look up to know that he is still grinning.

               "Never." I growled. "Come here, you son of a bitch, kill me if you dare, coward." I spat. "Come on," I mocked, "if you kill me, you can get this wretched throne. The people love you anyways." I laughed mirthlessly. "They would love to have their Silver Prince as king, wouldn't they? They pray for my death every night. You can hear it, you know, if you listen closely. " I hacked up a lungful of blood but continued with my teeth bloody and broken, "all that hatred, for me, their bastard king, but little did they know," I wagged my finger at him, "little did they know that their beloved Silver Prince is the one behind it all!" I  roared with hysterical laughter. "Imagine their faces when you finally murder me and step on the throne! Oh how I would howl with mirth from the heavens!" I was crying with my insane laughter. 

                  My brother just shook his pretty silver haired head and sprawled out besides me, in the pile of my blood and bone shards. It doesn't seem to bother him much. We used to lie like this upon the castle roofs, and count all the stars in the sky. But those were the good and happy moments of days long past, we are no longer brothers in my eyes, a

and after what he has done to my kingdom and my people. He rolled his head around and peered at me through silver lashed eyes. "Are you done yet?" He asked after a moment, calm and unmoved by my insanity. 

                    "Done? Why, my dear brother! I've just started! If you want to finish it, why don't you do it yourself?" It's dangerous to goad him on, but his pretty blue eyes are just too pretty and perfect. I want to pluck them out like grapes with my bare hands. " Go on, do tear out my heart, see if I'll die. If I don't, well then, lucky you! I'll come back to kill you again tomorrow ! Isn't that fun?"

                      His gaze darkened. And he bared his teeth menacingly.

                      I erupted into another bought of hysterical laughter. 

                      His hand plunged deep into my chest and poked through my rib cage like I had bones of butter. He gripped my still beating heart and ripped the steaming organ out of my body with a savage smile. I stretched my lips into an imitation of his expression, just to mock him. I had sworn, to never, ever, let him see my cry out in pain, and so I complied to my oath, even as my lungs struggled to knit together. He pried open my mouth and shoved a still pulsating hunk of my own heart into my mouth. I gagged and spat, but he held my nose until I swallowed, then fed me another piece.

                         I hate him, I hate him so much. There's not enough ways in the world to torture him to satisfy my hate. But I hate myself more. This body that I have that never dies, this hunger in my belly that is never sated until I taste blood and flesh. He knows how much I loath myself. That's why he feeds my my own heart to keep me alive. 

                         He forced me to swallow the last piece before he left, with an order to the sentries to bring him another wrench to entertain his bed and torture devices tonight. No doubt I will find another mangled body of an innocent girl in the morning. He has taken to putting those bodies outside my chamber door to greet me every morning. As if he is being kind by offering me a meal of freshly slaughtered virgin. 

                       I wiped my own blood off my lips and my tongue. One day, I'll defeat this bastard, and I'll follow him to hell. But until then, I live and wallow in my hate.

                        Me and him, we are the last two of an ancient breed that feeds on all things living. Our mother passed this cursed blood that runs through our veins, and when father realized that we weren't human enough to be his heirs, he had us murdered in the middle of the night. He was very surprised to see us again in the following morning, and even more surprised at the time of his demise. I would know, I slaughtered him as I would a pig. 

                         I hate him.

                         I hate mother and brother too. 

                         But I hate myself the most.

                         The people hate me too, but they adore the true monster. 

                         They will never, ever, understand me.