When I am tired and broken

Float me up to space

Float me past the moon

As stars explode and dreams collide

Float me through the asteroids

As rock fuses in the cold

Float me through the stars

And let their heat warm my body

Float me around an obit

Let my body spin and twirl and dance

Float me past your view

And let me drift away

Bodies of water,

Stretching along

The sunset horizon

They are vast,

Reflecting back

The things

We don't want to see

Full of lost hopes,

Crushed dreams

How well the sky and sea

Work together,

To compliment our misery

The picture was uploaded to Flickr by Bureau of Land Management Oregon and Washington, under the Attribution 2.0 Generic license. The license can be found here: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/ The uploader's profile can also be found here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/blmoregon/ I only adjusted the size of the picture to fit Prose formatting.

I was...

A young, foolish girl

Without a care in the world

I lacked maturity,

The wisdom to act selflessy

Only focused on myself,

Paying no mind to anything,

Anyone else

I am...

A young girl,

Who feels old beyond her age

Wisdom gained from

The ways of the world

Maturity acquired

While dealing with the cruelty of others

A girl hardened by adversity

I will be...

A woman,

Wise beyond her years,

Finally free to dream,

To leave the stifling walls

Acting as a gilded cage

A better, more fulfilling life,

Without its current strife

Your cologne lingers on worn out Bama shirts, that I keep close by my pillow at night in a crumpled up ball. I would hang them next to Dad’s Old Spice infused flannels but as you know, that was his sacred space. You would understand. You knew how much I loved my father and oh how I missed that man, especially when he stayed up at midnight painting faces out of shadows and spirits. His brushstrokes still haunt the night. And oh how I miss you my love. When you would bite down so gently yet so hard on your lips. The ones I longed to kiss with each sunset and sunrise-I cursed it daily. I wanted nothing to do with it. The nights were what comforted me. It was when I dreamt of you the most. I would be swept away from here and brought into a world of deep sea blue, salty winds, and pearl tips of lukewarm water. I would dream of us covered in sand, from head to toe, your kissing my ski sloped burnt nose, and telling me that I was the most beautiful woman you had ever known. I believed you as we kissed again underneath a velvet blanket full of sparkling stars. We parted from the moon and headed into a deep oasis of tropical deliciousness. Our heads would come up briefly for air in order to breath in our own tantalizing musks. We spent one weekend that summer falling deep into a decadent love that was tangled in a web of lust and cherry vodka. Our plans ripped out from beneath us when we had to leave our paradise. It was back to 9 to 5 and the realities of a painful subdued life. One I had to live alone. And it was without you Where I realized I was incomplete and afraid. I missed your comforting touch, your poetic blue eyes, and how your mouth found its way to mine, even in the darkest of the night and would kiss me enough to bury me into oblivion. You were my knight. My saving grace. My hero. But sadly I put so much more into you then you were worth. So I ended it. I couldn’t risk you falling back into rehab again. I couldn’t handle losing you to drink. To pills. I would lose the war. And so would you. I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I couldn’t be held responsible. So I left our memory alone. Untouched. After the summer left us and fall came to. I told you the news. I was pregnant and you didn’t seem to care. Or even believe me. You were just as confused as I was about this newfound love. This was foreign territory to us both. -This once in a lifetime kind of soul connection we shared. But i couldn’t handle you. ... And I lost our baby. I tried so hard but my body failed me. I didn’t make it passed 6 weeks. I cried such tears of sorrow. I still cry when September comes. We eventually went on our tragic ways. My life without you it went. As did yours with someone new. I stalked your pages on Facebook like anyone would do, right? You seemed happy. But were you? I suppose. ...Maybe? No. I wasn’t buying it. You were not as happy as that weekend in the Keys. You told me later on but I shut you down and blocked you. I didn’t want to keep you from your new life. You understood. And besides we had this beautiful memory of a piece of paradise forever carved out in our hearts. My heart that suddenly shattered and stopped the day I found out yours did. I never even got to say goodbye to you. And now you are nothing but the sweetest of memories. You were so young. Forty. A piece of heaven intertwined into my soul for eternity when the world lost you. When I lost you that day. I think I had secretly hoped that one day we would somehow find out way to one another again. But that would never happen now. I hope you have forgiven me. I hope you understood. I hope you’ve met our unborn child in the midst of the afterlife that is called heaven. I wonder what her name is. Or he. I wonder so many things. But the one thing I won’t soon forget is that summer when I fell for you. And every now and then I will pick up a shell just to remember the sound of our 2 souls that summer and the pounding rhythmic waves that carried us through.

Creature... that’s what I was called. They thought I spent my life in my head because I liked it. I thought they were abusive and emotionless because it was part of their nature. I was wrong. Nobody’s naturally that sadistic, they just happened to like it.

I was alone, working down in the furnaces of the Machine. The enormous underground shaft was all I’d ever known. I woke every morning in a metal box, sweltering with the heat pouring in, then was led into the seething belly of the monster, tasked to care for it. My life turned in the gears of this place, hissing upward in the steam from the center tank and the ocean of glowing coal below.

It had long since become thoughtless work, each labor cranked through as naturally as any other function of the body: wheel the cart into the cavern, fill it from the mountain of factory coal, wheel it back to the shaft, open the metal grate, dump the coal into the sea of heat, and repeat seven times over; then fill the central tank with the elephantine hose that snaked down from the endless ceiling; check temperatures with this gauge here, adjust pressure with that dial over there, and release steam from the heaving Machine with one of fourty nine levers.

Some people said their life was hell.

I often joked to myself, imagining how alarmed they would be to learn that Hell was where I lived. Not actually... but that was the way the joke went.

The ominous sound of metal clacking rang through the shaft from above, like a clock ticking its life away far too quickly. The caged lift descended until it shuddered to a stop on the landing. Four laquered black boots stepped off onto the metal stairway. Long leather coats lead up to gloved hands, and masks with tubing winding around to air tanks strapped to their backs.

They were back. They...

A third figure, obscured in steam, stepped from the cage. My stomach leapt. She was dressed much the same as the other two, only she didn’t require a mask. That, she and I had in common. Her blonde curls were left unobscured, tied up in a tail that was somehow wild and deliberate all at once. She smiled vaguely at me as she moved to join the two tall figures, the Facillitators.

She and I shared a secret--one that could not get out, or I would risk losing my head. I scurried around the center tank toward them, my own boots clanking on the steel grating.

*The creature is relieved when he sees you,* said one of the Facillitators, his voice hollow and static, as if coming through a dusty radio. I cowered, cursing myself. The Facillitators could smell emotions, and I’d let mine run away from me.

“I know,” said the girl, Akeldama, “he always is. Now, what am I doing here? My blood fusion isn’t until tomorrow.” The Facillitators said nothing, but led her by the elbow down the metal stairs to stand before me.

*You have much to confess,* they said as one. They seemed to be speaking to both of us.

What? They couldn’t know. They couldn’t. I managed to meet Akeldama’s eyes, pleading. They can’t know our secret.

*Confess,* they repeated, with no more severity than before.

“What?” she said, agast.

*Confess,* they said, the same monotonous promise in their voices.

“Bloody skies, what are you talking of?”

*Sins have been comitted. You will confess.*

“I have nothing to confess!” she snapped. “Take my blood or let me go!”

The Facillitators stood looming, the sound of their labored breath burning in my ears. My muscles siezed involuntarily as they moved toward me. Their gloved fingers dug into the bare skin of my arms, and I trembled, uncertainty rising like a black cloud inside me. They began to drag me over the metal grating toward the trap door where the coal was fed through.

“Not there,” I wimpered. “Not there!”

The grate screeched as they dragged it open, and it slammed back against the latticework. They held me on my knees by the shoulders, my face inches over the opening. Below, the sea of angry, gleaming coals filled my vision.

I looked up at Akeldama, and despite the heat my chest turned cold. She sighed, her eyes downcast. She wouldn’t... she would never! Every gear and hissing piston in the Machine seemed to go quiet as I waited for her to speak...

“Follow me,” she said.

Something inside me cracked, and my muscles went limp. As my head sank to my chest and I stared into the sea of fire and brimstone, I thought, Let go... just let go.

The pressure on my arms was dragging me backward. They turned me away as they followed Akeldama, and the heavy grate clanged shut behind me. My boots skidded soundlessly over stone as they carried me passed the coal cart and into the cavern beyond.

The world was vague as we entered. A rushing deposit of factory coal slid from the metal chute in the roof and crashed onto the ever-growing mountain. Akeldama circled the enourmous pile to a dark corner where it met the wall of the cavern. She began to dig into the bricks of coal, her gloves protecting her hands from the swirling plumes that rose. When she had a sizeable pile at her feet, her fingers touched something. She gently removed the object... a glass bottle of sickly green liquid strapped to a winding gearbox and a fuse.

Akeldama proffered the device to one of the Facillitators. “He’s been stealing reserve propellant from the harmony circuits. He was going to destroy the Machine.”

They released my arms as they considered my patchwork explosive. *The creature will die. Confession accepted.*

The Facillitators left the cavern with the device, leaving me alone with Akeldama. I knelt slumped on my knees, feeling punctured, steam slowly rushing out of my body.

“Why?” I breathed, the whisper echoing far too loudly through the chasm.

She stood over me, dejected. “I was trying to find another way. If my father’s Machine is destroyed, thousands of workers will be on the streets. I can’t do that, they’ll die in the surface air. Is that what you want? Thousands dead?”

She began to leave, but stopped, her breath shaking.

“Goodbye, then.”

*****

The next day, before Akeldama came to fuse her blood with the Machine, the Facillitators found me still kneeling in the cavern and told me to follow them...

She lies curled upon the bed, arms and knees wrapped around a pillow, weeping silently, so none will know the ache that remains, the pain that squeezes her heart so tightly she wonders how it does not burst...why doesn’t it burst? It has been sixteen months since the heart of her beloved ceased to beat. Sixteen months since she has noticed the beauty of a sunrise, a child’s laugh, a bird’s song. Those who love her still have grown impatient with her grief. It is time, they say. You must move on, they say. He would want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to suffer so.Thus, she is learning to hide her tears and cry in the silence of the long, lonely nights.

This night, as she lay with tears glistening on her cheeks, a tiny sliver of moonlight shone upon her shoulder where could be seen a hand not her own, gently caressing. Behind her, lay the shimmering form of her beloved, holding her close in arms she could not feel near the body whose touch her skin had yet to forget.

“Oh my darling,” he whispered, “would that I could dry your tears and bring a smile to those lips whose kiss filled my heart with joy, to those eyes whose glance made me stand taller, because of the love that shone in them for me.

“Would that I could tell you once more how my world was made complete the first time you took my hand. How I felt myself become whole, something more, though I had not known until the very moment our eyes met that I had been half a man till then. 

“Would that you could feel my arms embrace you, my skin warm against yours, loving you. Always loving you. 

“Know this, my love: I am the breeze that caresses your cheek when the air is still. The faint breath on your neck as you stand by the window, staring up at the moon. The warmth upon your lips when you close your eyes, remembering. I will be with you. Always.”

Slowly, as moonlight turned to the creeping light of dawn, he faded and she slept, on her lips, the gentlest of curves. Almost a smile.

i tell my mother that i think,

when i’m old and grey,

i’ll regret wasting

my most beautiful and tragic years

loving broken men

who were not ready to love me.

and she says simply,

“damage attracts damage”

she means well but, her eyes are tainted with worry

for the daughter that she’s on the verge of losing

I looked in the mirror and swallowed. I watched as my hands pulled my hair up into a high ponytail and secured it with an elastic. I’d become such a robot, doing what was expected of me day in and day out. If it were up to me, I’d be in the White House where I belonged. But of course, nobody could know that.

I was startled by a knock on my door. I stopped looking at myself in the mirror and quickly grabbed my book bag off the hook by the door and opened it, making sure I had everything.

Pens, books, sketchbook, got it all. I shut the flap and opened the door.

Before me stood a medium sized boy, his hand up in the air as I opened the door, preparing to knock again. Long blonde bangs fell in his eyes and he wiped them away with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.

“Hey,” he said, putting his hand down.

“Hey,” I said, still startled. I’d never seen this boy before and I’d been at this school for nearly ten years.

Maybe he’s new. I thought.

He spoke. “You’re Aunt Nellie would like to speak to you in her office.”

I adjusted the bag strap on my shoulder and narrowed my eyes at him. Nobody in this school was supposed to know that my aunt was the headmaster.

“Excuse me?” I asked, grabbing my jacket off the door. “I think you have the wrong room or something.”

I scooted by him and down the hall.

“Wait, Red!” he yelled after me. I quickened my pace but as I rounded the corner, a group of teens, dressed in black, stepped out in front of me, stopping me.

“Look, I don’t have time for this!” I exclaimed, trying to push through them.

“Ma’am,” one boy said, his voice muffled by his mask. “Please don’t struggle.”

At this point, I had no clue what was going on for all I knew, I was being kidnapped. If these people knew Headmaster Brook was my aunt, then they definitely knew my other secrets. Secrets that could get me killed.

I didn’t respond to the young man but rather brought my knee up into his groin. He yelled and tumbled backward. A few grabbed at my arms, but I elbowed them in the stomach, sending them farther back. One girl jumped on my back, her arms around my neck in a chokehold. I rammed myself back up against the stone wall as hard as I could, feeling something in her body crack. I did it again and she screamed while a few grabbed at me from the front. I did it one last time, something inside of me snapping -- my self-control. She went limp and she dropped to the floor. I lost no time in lunging at the others.

I grabbed one’s arm and swiveled it behind his back in a police hold. I jerked up, his shoulder popping out of socket and kicked him forward into the other two that were pointing guns at me and screaming at me to hold still or they’d shoot. They fell back, their guns going off into the ceiling and I jumped onto the one to my right. I slid my hand up my thigh, waiting for the feeling of cold metal. I grabbed the handle of the knife and held it to his throat. He froze, and I pulled him up into a standing position.

“Move and you’re dead,” I growled into his ear. “And I won’t hesitate.”

His body was stiff with fear, but I could feel him shaking.

“Red Riding!” the boy yelled at me from a distance. “Just listen to us.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that’s going to be doing any talking for a while,” I answered. “But you better talk fast before I get tired of keeping this guy alive.”

I really need to reel myself back in. I chided. I felt the strap of my bag across my shoulders.

If I can just get into it without letting go of this idiot, I can get my gun.

The boy hesitated, sensing my anger.

“Talk now!” I yelled.

“My name is Wade Green, sent by President Riding,” he started, taking one or two steps forward. “Your dad sent me, Red. He’s been shot and is currently on his deathbed, waiting to pass on the role of President to you.”

You may be confused at this point, so I will take a break from the story to explain. I know what you’re thinking. ‘That’s not how being President works. You race against other people for the position! It’s not passed down from generation to generation.’ Wrong! It is. At least in my world. If your dad or mom is a mailman, when they retire, their job will be passed down to you. Does that make sense? Good, let me continue with the story.

“My dad is not President Riding,” I yelled. “His name is John Riverton.”

“Do I need to show you his signet ring for you to believe me?” he asked.

“Look, Wade,” I said, taking the knife into my other hand. As I talked, I reached into my book bag. I knew he’d see me, but he wouldn’t be able to stop me. “I can’t believe you because what you’re proposing is total….” I searched for a word. “Crap. My dad is not the President of the United States, he is the manager at our local Wal-Mart.”

“Red,” A new voice said. It was sharp, and commanding and I knew who it was instantly.

“Aunt Nellie,” I said sweetly, turning around and tucking the knife behind my back. I had to let go of the boy I’d had at knifepoint though.

“What did you do?” she asked, rubbing her forehead.

I looked behind me at the body’s littered on the floor. None of them were severely hurt but a few were knocked out. Others just laid on the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly in panic. A group of teen CIA guards in training probably. There were most likely well-trained guards outside just in case.

They were trained for this. Did they not expect me to be prepared? I thought.

“Oh, this?” I asked innocently. “Just a little mistake, that’s all.”

“Red, I sent this young man to find you. I need to talk to you about some things in my office. Important things,” she said. “Come with me.”

I adjusted my bag, the gun still inside but the idea of brandishing it was irrelevant. She turned around and I glared at Wade once more as I tucked my knife back under my skirt.

He glanced at the holding mechanism wrapped around my thigh, eyes skimming down my leg and then back up.

“Seriously?” I snapped. “I thought you were professional.”

He raised an eyebrow and I turned to follow Aunt Nellie to her office. I heard him bark at the few conscious teens on the floor to get up and follow.

We arrived at Aunt Nellie’s office as the morning bell rang. Breakfast was dismissed and I’d missed it. I reluctantly watched as kids streamed past me to class, several still finish their croissant or fruit.

I slid into a hard leather seat and waited for the others to settle in. Wade sat down next to me, Aunt Nellie behind her desk, and the others by the door and bookcases.

“Are you going to explain any of this to me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Yes,” Aunt Nellie nodded. “But you need to listen more and talk less.”

I rolled my eyes. Always the same thing. Shut up and look pretty.

“We don’t have to keep pretending that your dad isn’t the President, Red,” she started.

“He sent Wade and the bodyguards to transport you back to the states to ascend your throne.”

“It’s not my throne,” I argued. “If he isn’t dead yet….” I cringed at how that sounded. “Then I have no right to it.”

Wade glanced at Aunt Nellie and she nodded as he began. “Your Father told us that he

moved you to London to attend your Aunt’s school for Detached Children. He told us that you would most likely put up a fight but you’d listen to your aunt. Your dad was shot a day ago while walking from his car to the White House. He gave us the orders to come and get you and bring you back to the States for your country. The doctors are saying he won’t make it through the weekend.”

I guess I should have been more shocked than I was but what can I say? I had watched everyone else in my family be murdered right before my eyes. Why else do you think I was at Brooklyn School for Detached Children?

“I know it’s a lot to process but we need to get you back to the United States as soon as

we possibly can. Your Father wants to talk to you before he —passes,” he finished, the last word said with some hesitation.

I nodded. “If Aunt Nellie trusts you, so do I.”

Her eyes met mine and she nodded slightly. She pushed up from her chair and walked

around the desk to mine, pulling me into a hug.

“I’ll miss you, Red,” she said, letting go of me.

“I’ll miss you too,” I responded.

“I know,” she smiled. “Now go get your stuff packed. They landed the helicopters on the

football field.”

“The football field?” I asked, my eyes widening. “How does nobody see that?”

“Oh, they’ve seen it, but we’ve just told them to ignore it and go on as they would,” she said. “Now go.”

I hugged her one last time. She had been my anchor and lighthouse for close to ten years

now and all of it felt off.

“Bye,” I said, stepping back. One of the teens opened the door and I walked back to my room, several people trailing behind me. I wanted to pinch my arm to make sure this wasn’t a dream or something. It was just that it seemed wrong. Not wrong in the sense that they weren’t legit but in the sense that it had happened too fast.

HEY GUYS! I just want to say, thanks for reading. This is my first ever self-standing novel that I've started. I already have the plot down and all I have to do now is go back and outline it and write it. I really hope ya'll enjoyed it and are ready for some more! This story is going to be a journey and one you aren't expecting (or at least I think so. I'm terrible with synopsis') If you'd like to be tagged in the next chapters, let me know! And also let me know what you thought of the story. I welcome negative and positive feedback!! Thanks once more for reading. It means a lot to me. Signing off -Famewriter

Life is amazing.

Don’t you ever think that

Life sucks.

Life grants us many opportunities.

Never will anybody say

Sadness is among us.

I love the world.

So you’ll never hear me say that

I want to kill myself.

Honestly,

Who wants to die?

I’m happy.

I don’t mean it when I tell you that

My life sucks.

Truly,

My joy could fill the depth of the ocean.

I’m being sarcastic when I tell you that

My heart is cold and sad.

The world is beautiful.

When I was young I declared that

Life is hopeless.

Be happy.

I will never

Pull the trigger.