It's inside 

A heart and soul intertwined 

Touched by the burns of your flame

Covered in scars, and boy you're to blame. 

It's my life

And it bleeds for our shattered light

And I'll take it, like you did 

The difference, this time, I'll live. 

Neither rolling waves on desert shores 

Nor light in deep caves and love worth fighting for

Can make it better now

No, the only thing I want you to know

You're the reason why 

I sleep with teardrop stains upon my pillow, every night

You're the reason why 

I try and try, but no matter what, can't win the fight

You're the reason why

I cry at old love songs 

Like they're haunted lullabies 

And yet I still believe 

Even through the grief,

That you're my reason why 

I am alive.

I'm still alive.  

I was a dreamer. Now I live a nightmare. 

My heart matched the tempo of the crowd's applause. Great. Hours of blinding lights melting away my sanity and deafening screams reminding me of evil's potential. 

I had made it. I sold over two million records, yet every night I cried myself to sleep. 

Because they don't tell you that misery can live with fame. That a crazed fan could show up in your hotel room, standing over your bed, a gun pressed to your cheek and then rape you. And especially that your contract prohibits you from speaking of it.  

I’m a prisoner

Ask me why

Trapped inside a cell by my reflection

I’m a child

But I don’t cry

Lost without the younger eyes’ perception.

I am stronger than the ones who fight

Against themselves, all day all night

Never winning what they’re longing for

I am the rain against the rooftops

The air beneath the clouds

I hold the key to my own diary

And I live my words out loud

I am an anthem of the Phoenix

The proof that change can come

I have seen the light, and I don’t have

To be the only one.

I’m a sinner

Have no doubt

Burned by regrets by the fire I made

But now I’m freedom

I got out

Watch as my sinful fire fades

I am the rain against the rooftops

The air beneath the clouds

I hold the key to my own diary

And I live my words out loud

I am an anthem of the Phoenix

The proof that change can come

I have seen the light, and I don’t have

To be the only one.

I am reborn

I am brave

I’ve accepted

My mistakes

And I’m not the only one

Who can change.

This isn't finished yet but I am so tired of writing right now and I really like how this works as like a Part 1 to a piece. So I hope someone likes it :) 

My heart was beating so loud I was afraid they would hear it. I hadn't heard the footsteps in a while, but I could see through the thin slits that the light in the hallway had been turned off. The air felt cold and dense. Every hair stood in terror on my arms and I consciously focused on my breathing, trying to only take quiet sips of air. I was trying to stay calm but the questions in my head were screaming. 

Why did they come here? They couldn't possibly know, could they? Where is Max? And Phoebe. Oh God, Phoebe.  

A loud thud came from downstairs and I couldn't stop myself from thinking the worst. One of them was yelling at the other, but they were too far to make out any words. 

I looked into the room. My room. Where I had spent so many nights laughing and crying at rented movies. The expensive dress I wore, after trying four others, to my date with Ron was now scrunched in my fist. I saw the bed where Phoebe was conceived. And the nightstand where my book lay so innocently; so unaware. I remember when we got the phone sitting next to it. It was a gift from Tom. 

The phone. 

It was right there. I realized if I could get to it I could call 911 and get help. I knew it was risky, that if even one floorboard creaked, they would know I was there, but I had to try. It was only a matter of time before they came up here again. They certainly weren't going to find it downstairs. I calmed my breathing and thought about the smartest way to do it. I would take off my shoes and go around the bed, to minimize as much noise as possible. I'd grab the phone and go back to the closet, just in case they came up while I was making the call. 

I took a deep breath and put my palm on the back of the closet door. I was about to push it open when I heard the rumbling sound of shoes against the wooden steps. They were coming back. Damn it, I shouldn't have wasted so much time. 

My hand started trembling, and soon I couldn't stop my entire body from shaking. The fear was rising inside me like a volcano right on the verge of exploding. I had to cup my hands over my mouth just to conceal the whimpering and quickening breath.  

They stood in the hallway at the top of the staircase. All I could see were their shoes and legs. From what I could see they were two men. One was wearing worn-out, light blue jeans, carelessly stuffed into a pair of tan worker boots. The other wore a more stereotypical-burglar-style black khakis and matching sneakers. 

The one in the boots was standing fifteen feet away from me.They were whispering, but I could hear him. 

"I'm sorry. He said it would be simple. How was I supposed to know that -" 

He stopped talking abruptly, not even finishing his sentence. It was completely silent now and I did everything in my power not to move. Not to breathe. 

I watched as both pairs of shoes turned towards the bedroom door. Tan Boots told Black Slacks he would look in there again. 

I had gotten lucky the last time. It was just Black Slacks who came in before and when he opened the closet, he opened one door at a time. It wasn't an enormous walk-in, but it had enough space for five or six people to uncomfortably fit. On the far back left corner there's a hamper built-in to the other shelves. It's big enough to fit an average-sized teenage girl, apparently. 

I couldn't see anything in there, but I could hear that he had walked into the space. Then Tan Boots yelled something and I heard the door shut and the footsteps fade away. 

Tan Boots was standing in the bedroom now and he was facing away from, but right in front of the closet door. Black Slacks shouted as I heard him making his way down the stairs, and what he said sent chills throughout my body. 

"Make sure you check everywhere. And don't forget that closet." 

"Yeah, yeah." 

Tan Boots walked towards the bed and I lost sight of his legs, but my whole body cringed when I heard him whistling. I couldn't recognize the melody, but it was unfittingly upbeat. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flashing. It was the clock on the night table. From my low angle, the bed blocked the bottom half of the blinking orange numbers, but I knew the only time it did that was when an alarm was about to go off. 

For years now, I've set two alarms. One in the morning for 7:30 a.m. and one at 3.00 a.m to use the bathroom. There wasn't enough light outside for it to be morning, so it had to be the bathroom alarm. 

I realized then that it would be my only chance. The alarm would be loud and he would want to shut if off. I thought if I timed it right, I could crawl out of the closet and hide in the bathroom. It was small and the shower was all glass, but he had already checked it, so there was no reason for him to go back. And he was going to check the closet and there was no way he wouldn't find me. 

A harsh, blaring siren erupted from the clock and I heard the man gasp and curse in terror. 

"Bloody hell," he said. 

I began to crack the door as slowly and gently as I could. He was slouched over the clock with his back towards me, muttering something, most likely profanities, under his breath. The door was open just enough for me to shimmy out on my side. I laid myself flat and propped my upper body up with my elbows. 

I could feel beads of sweat starting to form on my upper lip and forehead as I held my breath and start to crawl. I had to hurry but I had to be smart. One small mistake and he could've heard me. I was almost at the end of the bed when Tan Boots screamed. My heart sank to my stomach and I froze, unable to move or think. 

"Hey!"

I closed my eyes and felt my body tense up in anticipation, preparing itself for the hands that were about to grab me. 

"Come here. I can't shut this damned thing off!" 

At first, my mind didn't process that he wasn't talking to me. But quickly I reopened my eyes. Then I heard footsteps. 

First, I heard them from the other side of the bed, moving right towards me. Then I heard another set pounding up the stairs. I was surrounded. There was no time to get to the bathroom. He would see me. 

I didn't even have time to think, but my body, like it had taken control somehow, rolled sideways. I looked up to see rows of the coiled springs that lined the frame of my bed. I looked to where I had just been on my knees, only five feet away, and saw the tan shoes. Then the black shoes. The both started to go around the bed, walking less than a meter away from the crown of my head. I looked to my right and saw them in front of the nightstand. 

The frantic sound of the alarm was still blasting through the room. The two men were whispering aggressively to one another, and as close as I was to them, I couldn't make out a single word. I closed my eyes. I thought about my daughter, Phoebe, who was at her friend's house for a sleepover. And my dog, Max, who had urinated on the sofa earlier that day. As punishment, I had him sleep in the doggy house outside. And I thought about the date that I was supposed to go on, but cancelled twenty minutes before. I just laid there, thinking about how I had gotten to that point. 

Finally, the alarm stopped. I opened my eyes and saw Tan Boots still standing over the nightstand. Black Slack wasn't standing there anymore and in that moment I was so relieved that I wasn't in the closet anymore. 

Then the closet door shut. Terror consumed my entire body. My lips quivered and I could almost taste the fear inside my mouth. 

I turned my head and Black Slack's eyes were staring directly into mine. 

I had forgotten to close the closet door.  

I didn’t think it could exist, a brand new love like this

Not after the apocalypse that followed my first kiss

But new arms hold me tighter

And closer to the heart

Of the one who makes me lighter

I’ve been floating from the start

A new beginning

A new chance to be

With the person

I thought I’d lost

But that person helped me see

It was you

All along, it was you

As a child dreaming of the day

Wishing I could know your name

And were you thinking the same?

It was you

Everyday, I would wait

And just before I thought “oh, what’s the use”

You walked into my view

And I found you.

The mornings used to be

A reminder of how lonely

My bed was before you

And nighttime was a curse

Until the night when you kissed me first

And I knew.

It was you,

All this time, as I cried, it was you

Your eyes caught mine like silver rain

And I could tell you felt the same

You smiled as you walked my way

It was you

Everyday, from then on

We’d be drunk on possibilities

Reality became the fantasy

Because of you.

It was always you.

My name is Autumn Summer Stark. And yes, I’m painfully aware that my name is comprised of two seasons. My parents were born-again hippies in the early 90s and thought it’d be clever since I was born on September 22 at 11:54 pm, almost exactly in between the end of Summer and beginning of Fall. But I’m pretty much like every other 23-year old pot-smoking, beer-drinking rebellious college dropout. Oh, except for one little thing. I died this morning.

Yeah, so now I’m dead. Bummer, right? Unfortunately, I can’t actually remember how it happened. All I know is that I woke up in this tiny room with note on my lap that read: You’ve died. But not to worry. Your Advisor will be with you shortly.

Well, I guess I always knew in the back of my mind it was coming eventually. Not like how everyone is eventually inevitably destined to go beyond the grave, but with the way I partied, I was expecting that at the maximum I’d be kicking the old bucket by my thirtieth birthday. I was just hoping I could legally buy alcohol by the time it did. So, now I’m just sitting in this uncomfortable black leather chair, waiting for him to come back in so he can tell me where the hell I am. I mean, I know I died. Check. But what happens now? Do I have to right all the wrongs I’ve made during my time on Earth to earn my spot behind the pearly white gates? Or, a more likely chance, will they just send me straight to the fiery grave that lies below? Either way, you’d think me being dead and all, having nowhere to go, impatience would cease to exist. Wrong.

The door opened and Mr. Ronald Rooner walked back in, holding his clipboard and pen tightly in the grasp of his chapped, wrinkled hands.

“Hello, miss, erm” he said, flipping through the pages tightly pinned to his clipboard, “ah, here were are, Spencer. Hello Miss Spencer. I’m sorry about the wait, I had to check a few things. Your death has gotten a lot of people chatting here today.” He looked at me with his dark brown eyes, with the expression of excited curiosity splashed across his face.

“What do you mean, my death? What’s so special about me dying? I’m sure it wasn’t that much of a shock to the big guy.” She paused. “Wait a second, are you him? Are you god? Because that would be really disappointing.” His happy gaze shifted only for a second, as if hurt by what I had said, and then returned his clumsy smile to my direction.

“Oh, no, no, no, dear. Ha! No. Not me. My name is Ronald Roober. Well, Mr. Ronald Roober if you’d like to be formal. Hello, I’m Mr. Roober, and what is your name, mademoiselle?” he said, laughing and slapping his hand on his desk as if he had just heard the funniest joke ever.

“I’m Autumn. Didn’t we just do this?”

“Ah, yes. Miss Spencer. I apologize. Like I said, hectic, busy day. So, okay, let’s get started then, shall we? Yes? Okay. Alright. Do you know where you are, Autumn?

“Well, I know I’m dead. But no, I don’t. Look man, if there’s a one-way ticket to Hell with my name on it can you just tell me now and we can spare the formalities and poorly-executed jokes? I know I’m no angel.” Ronald looked down at a piece of paper attached to his clipboard and started circling with his pen.

“Ah! Well, erm, yes. Yes, in fact, you are, well, dead. But, the good news is, contrary to what you may or may not have been taught-well, I shouldn’t be presumptious, should I? You could have been one of those-oh, what do are they called?” he rubbed his forehead with his pointer finger, forcefully trying to remember the word. “Oh! Atheists. You could be one of them. Are you…one of them?”

“I don’t like labels. The only thing I believe is that this is a waste of time. Let’s just cut to the chase. Heaven or Hell?” Ronald laughed his painfully peppy laugh once more.

“Oh, sweetie. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I guess, depending on how you look at it, that’s just not how it works here,” he said as he opened one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a tiny clear sphere. “Oh, I just love this part. Okay. See this? This is the orb of balance. Basically, during your time on Earth, you were given exactly-” he paused, once again flipping frantically through the pages, and running his finger across them like it was an out-of-control typewriter. “-ah, 1,104,992. You were given 1,104,992 decisions to make. Choices, if you will. For each one, there was a right decision and a, well, not right decision. Or, to put it less vaguely, one decision that would lead to a series of other decisions that, if chosen correctly, would eventually lead you to becoming a Higher, after you’ve presumably passed, of course. The other, not right decision would lead to a different series of, sort of, tests, to see if you would either make up for making the wrong decision to begin with, or continue your descent into the inevitable ranking of a Lower. Now, of course, you’re probably thinking, but Ronald, I couldn’t make decisions by myself as a baby.” Well, it doesn’t start until your third birthday at midnight. Not a second sooner and not a second later.”

“What? Higher? Lower? Orb of what?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies. Highers and Lowers are the rankings in which we use to separate the classes here in Afterward. I guess it’s like what you were referring to with Heaven and Hell, relatively similar at least, except there is no such thing, really, as Hell. The Family decided long ago that everyone deserves a second chance in Afterward, so here we are simply divided into two sections. The Highers live in the North End and the Lowers live in the South End.”

“Wait a second. So is it like these…Highers live in mansions with crystal doorways and golden bathtubs while the rest live with four-headed lions and flesh-eating viruses?” One final roaring laugh came from under Ronald’s bushy white mustache.

“Oh, my dear, you really mustn’t believe everything in see in the movies. No, no, it’s nothing like that. Sure, the Lowers don’t have as many luxuries or opportunities as those residing in the South End, but it’s far from what you’re imaging.” He put down his clipboard and placed the small sphere in front of me. It was perfectly round and not quite transparent, but fogged, almost like a crystal ball.

“So what is this thing?” I asked. The irritatingly amused smile returned to Ronald’s face. He leaned in, staring at the ball, and raised his eyebrow, as if he was waiting for something to happen. “What is supp-” I said before Ronald interrupted me.

“Just watch, my dear. Just watch,” he said with a glimmer in his eye and an excitement in his voice that resembled a kid on Christmas morning about to receive their presents. I stared at the sphere, awaiting something, anything to happen, but after what felt like ten minutes, I began to feel impatience creeping up again. And just as I was about to say something, the tiny, clear orb began to rise, floating in the air right in front of my eyes. Suddenly, a blurry picture, like a tiny, tiny movie began to play. There was no sound, but after a few seconds I realized what it was. It was me. And not just me, but me as a baby. And then there I was taking my first steps. And my parents, and Lily, my best friend. This tiny ball was literally flashing my life before my eyes. And with every new frame, the images were surrounded by a different color. Blues and reds and greens and yellows, blacks and browns and purples and golds rapidly lit up the scenes of my life. And just like that, it was over. I guess nineteen years doesn’t take too long to show at that speed, though.

The orb continued to float, but instead of the clear, foggy glass color it was now shining a bright, almost blindingly so, orange. It was beautiful, but just as I was about to reach out to touch it, Ronald grabbed it from the air, and the color faded away.

“I-I don’t understand. Orange. Orange? That can’t be. It simply can’t be. Never in my-” he paused, looking up at me with a look of bewilderment on his face that harshly contradicted the soft and joyful expressions that came from it before.

“What’s wrong? What does orange mean? Is that bad?” Ronald continued to look at me, and then down at the orb, and then up at me again in utter disbelief. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

“I-I don’t know wh-what to say. M-my dear, you’re a [middle, center, something].”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“Well, wh-what it means is, is that, well, you’re neither a Higher nor a Lower. You’re p-perfectly, amazingly, im-impossibly in the middle. Y-you, you don’t fit in either. In all my years as an Advisor, and well, quite frankly, in the history of Afterward’s existence, never have I ever seen this happen. Ex-excuse me f-for a moment.” Ronald quickly and clumsily got up from his brown leather chair, his ass leaving an indentation in the cushion, his frazzled arm knocking over his coffee mug, spilling coffee all over the papers and clipboard. “Oh, frizzle! Oh Ronald, you clutz!” he murmured to himself, grapping his blue pocket handkerchief from his uncomfortably tight dress shirt and dabbed the blotches of coffee that were seeping into the cotton. “I will be right back”, he said, rushing out the door and slamming it behind him.

Well, this is just great, I thought, not only did I die today, but now they don’t know what to do with me. I stood up from the chair, and for the first time I realized I felt different. The first thing I noticed was how much further away from my own feet I felt when I looked down. I felt substantially taller, like I had grown a good three or four inches overnight. I also felt more internally calm. It was a strange feeling, but it was almost like not a single pore of my body was closed, like every inch of my skin was breathing with ease. I had felt a similar rush of euphoria only once before, and that was after six days of only drinking a gallon of water each day with lemon juice, honey, and cayenne pepper in it. I had read that it was great for cleansing out your body of any toxins, but all it really did was give me some amazing energy for a few days and the rest of the time made me feel lightheaded and dizzy.

I walked over to the bookshelf that towered over all the other furniture in the room. It was long, spanning the entire back wall, and while the room itself wasn’t big to begin with, there still must’ve been over 1,000 books in that thing, all perfectly placed into their own unique designation. I reached out to grab a book entitled Knowledge of Botomy: Tigerdaisies and Daffelions, but before I could turn it over to look at the back, I noticed something else extremely strange. My fingernails, which usually were bitten down to tiny nubs, barely visible to the naked eye, were long and perfectly symmetrical. They weren’t painted but had almost a sheen to them as if they had a clear coat of polish on them. I hadn’t had nails like that since I was six years old when my mom used to take me to get them done when she was out doing the same.

Everybody has a dark side

A shadow blackened by guilt and regret

Shame and remorse

A possessive passenger that creeps beneath the surface

Stalking, 

Waiting

To attack the purity 

and innocence 

Until there's nothing left but memories of a better time. 

The grass is always greener 

Until you lay on the other side

Until you fall on the other side,

too. 

Safety on a flat peak is an illusion

You must rise

To fall. 

Everybody has a dark side

Poorly-shackled prisoner 

Giddy with insanity 

As he tries to curb his insatiable hunger

For the hummingbirds and daffodils 

But hope is nothing more 

Then a gilded city which lay once in ruins 

Beneath the petals of a magic rose

Eager thorns await. 

It is the whispering of the rain-soaked trees on a cloudy day

It is the remembered laughter of children playing 

Their imagination, untamed and limitless. 

It is not the destruction of a threatening fire, it is the light it provides

It is not closeness to death written on the wrinkles of old men's foreheads,

It is tales of wonder and the ever-changing map of their pasts.

It is the old window of a barn that lets the horses see the sky 

It is the cool touch of the wind brushing past our noses

Quick and unseen, but demanding 

to be heard, to be felt. 

And like the breeze, 

It can be calm and make flower petals dance

Or it can choose to blow great Oaks to the ground.

It is the mountains that stand in front of the sunset

Watching in awe of such an impossible beauty

Or enveloped in the shadows it carelessly leaves behind. 

It is in every smile, every laugh, every song 

It is nowhere, it is everywhere. 

It is love.    

You asked me once if I was real

As real as the scorch on a Tuesday in June, 

I said. 

Snowflakes stuck to the windows, then

And the frozen rain sobbed as it watched inside

Two men

Two hearts

Entangled in a web of destructive passion 

Entranced in a spell cast by a demented baby in a diaper

Scratch. Claw. Bite. Scream. 

Stop. 

Cry. Cry. 

No more crying. Not tonight. 

Orange and blue still flash in my mind

The taste of cold concrete pressed against my check 

It wasn't me

But I was it. 

And it consumed 

And it controlled

And it sucked dry the prey it taunted 

Watching as it bled from a once-beating heart

Of a man who loved it so

Betrayed 

A forgotten love wiped away from the brow of destiny 

And time passed. 

And flowers grew

Clouds rolled by 

And the Earth spun 'round

And year by year 

Again comes crying frozen rain

With frosted tears

They dream

Of warmth they can clearly see, but will never know by touch.   

Some days

Rain is daggers that pierce the earth

The small bodies of its blood that create

Feared reflections

When left to stare into their faces.

Some days

Rain is a kiss from the unknown

A gift from the light that hides above it

Cleansing the past and solididfying

A gilded future.

Some days

A dream is a camera

Full of forgotten fears

And wingless birds of when

When things were…

When I was…

When…

Some days

A dream is a blanket fort

Held sturdy by white string and rebellion

Of the photographs

It protects even those who use rock and tree

And the meek existences they battle.

Every day

Skies tell us they’ are blue

Grass says green

And roses say red

Every day

Is the light and warmth of a speck in the vast blackness

And the blindness and burns it leaves behind.