I pick up the sheet that slipped through the door. Huh. Looks like they forgot to pin it properly again.
Patient: Brooklyn Harmony
Claims to be abducted by aliens. Parents say she is acting like a completely different person.
The same thing they put last time. Staring into the mirror in the bathroom, I noted the changes. From the girl with wavy locks, huge lively eyes and porcelain skin, I had transformed greatly, into a monster with sunken sallow cheeks, skin that was marked with scars, framed by stringy brown hair.
But it's true. I really was abducted by aliens. I can still remember when they pulled me out of my bed through the open window. Florescent lights greeted me, and I was plopped into a seat. Screaming and yelling didn't work. Their slimy tentacles were all over me, connecting some machine to my head with some weird tubes. They pressed a button, and I screamed in pain.
F***. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
I normally don't curse, but this sort of pain was uncalled for. It was like entire body was bitten by red ants, stung by bees and soaked in acid. I used the last of my energy to read what was reading on the huge screen in front of me.
SOUL-SUCKING EXPERIMENT ONGOING
My heart plummeted to my stomach. They were I sucking out my soul. Finally, I blacked out, the huge red eye I saw pulsing, worming it's way into my head.
When I woke up, I was in my bed, but something... part of me was missing. I knew why though. So from the goody-two-shoes, book worm and friendly kid, I had turned into a smart-mouthed, bullying "brat" who was hooked onto drugs. My friends slowly ran away from me, my parents started screaming at me every night when I stumbled home drunk. I probably snapped something in them when I brought home Meth.
I could still feel the pain, my heart being wretched out.
Suddenly, guards burst into my room, forcing me into a straitjacket and leading into a room, paneled with one-way glass and a huge table in the centre.
"The name is Brooklyn, bit-" I cut myself off, the tiny part of me screaming to return to my normal self. I stare at "doctor"... psychiatrist, her perfect blond curls falling past her shoulders. Cautiously, I take a seat, feeling a million eyes staring at me through the glass. This has actually become a routine already, dragging me out of my "room" every month.
"So Mi- Harmony, your parents say you've changed, and I'm sure you know it too. Please, do you honestly know what caused this change? Teenage rebellion? Bad influence? What Brooklyn? I really want to help you."
Lies. Especially that last line. I remain silent.
"Brooklyn? Please tell me. I will believe whatever you say."
Letting the ends of my lips curl up into a smile, I happily say, "I was abducted by aliens, and sucked out my soul."
“To whom it may concern,
I do not know you but I wish for you to know me, and for you to know the truth. I want everyone to know the truth. So please, do not stop reading until you have read every word. Before I begin I must tell you, I never meant for this to happen. I am so sorry.
First I would like to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Lansel Barge. I am 47 and I've no wife or children or any immediate family for that matter. I have a single companion and that is my male Bengal kitty, Hansel. Lansel and Hansel, I thought it had a ring to it. He is a very handsome boy. He wears a golden collar with a golden bell, and if you see him, do not approach him. He is Patient Zero, and he is a very fast runner.
I work for a genetic research branch of the government called GenXI. It has been kept a secret, even from Mr. President himself. We focus on gene splicing, cloning, and new creation. New creation is how I got myself into this mess in the first place. We were working on creating an immunization that would accelerate brain activity, causing an increase in intellect, speed, strength, and endurance. We almost had it, and we thought we did have it. We did not. We tested this vaccine called NCV (New Creation 5) on multiple rats and it worked. I was elated. I decided to bring it home and give it to my Hansel. I know what you're thinking, we should have run more tests. The thing is, we were running tests. It had been almost 10 days since the rats were injected and they were showing signs of perfection. I brought it to my boy on the 9th day. I administered the vaccine at 8am on the 10th day, and at 12:42pm I received a call from one of my colleagues telling me that our rats were dead. I immediately packed up my Hansel and headed to the lab. I was not going to let this take my handsome boy away from me.
After 8 days of testing on Hansel's blood, we finally thought we had the cure. I was desperate, and this time yes, we should have run more tests. Unfortunately we were out of time. The way I saw it was, if he is going to die anyways, I have nothing to lose. If the cure didn't help him, at least I tried. The very night that the cure to NCV was created, I gave Hansel the shot. We didn't even bother naming it. Our plan was to destroy the entire project, as it was a total failure.
I stayed awake with him until the end. The "cure" somehow sped up the process and he died the morning after I gave it to him. I cried. Hard. I killed my boy...for fucking science. I can still see the way his eyes glazed over as his brain discontinued function, as his heart stopped pumping and neurons ceased firing. He was beautiful, even in death, and I would never be the whole again. My colleagues wanted to keep his body at the lab, but I refused. I could handle it myself.
I took him to the very best taxidermist I knew of. Harold. He was a sweet, tiny old man with but a spattering of hair on his head but a beard so full that I was once convinced that he might have a family of mice living in there. I told him that Hansel passed away from food poisoning and I left him with the body of my best friend. I would return the next night. Harold was a fast worker. The next morning Harold called me and was a bit upset, because he thought I trusted him. He didn't understand why I would steal my boys body back. I could barely understand him, and I was extremely confused. I explained to him that I'd been at home and if anyone took Hansel's body, it wasn't me. After a moment of silence on the other end, I heard the old man curse. And then he cursed again. "He ain't dead, Lance!".
I will leave it at that. What followed was a gruesome exchange between an old man and a cat that was hell bent on destroying him. He didn't have a chance. I wish I knew why it happened and I wish I had time to figure it out now. Hansel was a being of perfection with a hunger for human flesh and an anger that raged throughout him.
And that's how it happened. I fucked up and I turned my Bengal into a freaking zombie. By the time I got to Harold's store, the doors were wide open and there was chaos. I watched as a fragile old man tore into the stomach of a biker who had been riding by on the sidewalk. I knew what was happening. I've seen the movies and I've read the comics. This was it. Harold looked up and locked eyes with me. They were full of rage and his thick beard was dripping with the blood of the man we was in the process of consuming.
Hansel was out there somewhere. I could have found him by following the sound of screaming and terror, but I am a coward. I have always been one and I will die as one should, by my own hand before I can be turned into one of those things.
So, whoever you are, don't feel bad when you see me hanging from the closet rafters. I hope you find this soon, before all of the genius scientists are dead. All of the information they would need is in the locked drawer of my desk. The key is inside of the smallest nesting doll on the wall to the left of the desk. Retrieve it and deliver it to someone who can fix my mistakes. Do what I am too afraid to do. I am sure that my Hansel is coming home to me, so I will end this letter and then I will end my life.
Again, I am so sorry. This was never supposed to happen. I just wanted to save my handsome boy. "
Jillian placed the letter back onto the nightstand of the bedroom she was standing in. Somehow this house hadn't been trashed and she was tasked with searching it before her group moved out of this neighborhood. She was just a 15 year old girl who had lived the last 4 years running from the dead. Every day she asked God why he let this happen, and now she had the answer. It had nothing to do with God and everything to do with humans who were trying to play God. She found the papers that the Doctor mentioned and shoved them into her backpack along with a couple of cans of pinto beans. As she walked back through the house, she decided to check the mans closet. She was curious to see if he had actually gone through with hanging himself, or if he was too much of a pansy to even do that. It was dark, so she had to retrieve her flashlight. Hanging from the top of the closet was a rope that was clearly very old and barely twisted. Below it was a pile of bones that she could only assume was the man that caused this. She cursed him twice, and turned to leave.
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.
She heard a tiny little bell ringing. Looking around, she couldn't seem to find what was causing it. She heard the rafters at the top of closet creek, and when she shined her light up there, she saw him. The most handsome kitty she'd ever laid eyes on. He was staring at her, and though he was sitting, she could see his muscles were preparing for the pounce. Jillian knew she should run, but she also knew that this cat would only cause more harm. The fighter inside of her was winning, and as she reached for her gun, Hansel attacked.
Shots were fired. Minutes later a group of armed people came bursting into the room, ready to kill the dead and to save their girl.
They saw blood. Laying on the ground was a breathtakingly beautiful cat. It was long and muscular and had shining, silky fur. His face was...gone. The girl was sitting across from him, staring at the hole in his head. As her adrenaline settled, the tears started flowing. The mother-figure of the group collected Jillian in her arms and held her as she told the group what she had found. They all read the letter and decided unanimously that their next move was to find someone who could do something with this knowledge.
They left the house and made camp for the night inside of a small cottage that was a few miles away from the neighborhood that they were in. The darkness was consuming and though the sounds of the others steady breathing and light snoring usually lulled her to sleep, tonight was different.
Jillian couldn't sleep. She scratched the cut on her elbow that the cat left on her with one of his claws. She easily concealed it, as elbow skin barely bleeds and she only had to roll her sleeves down to hide her wound. She prayed to God and asked for his forgiveness as she placed her gun against her head and pulled the trigger.
Its November 11th today. I just wanted to record that because it's good to have a normal feeling, especially after what happened today.
I don't do journals or "diaries" because I feel like it is a waste of my time, but I don't want to talk to anyone and I need to let go of my feelings somehow.
The day started out normally. I was praying to God that we wouldn't get our Biology Test because I knew I failed it. I guess God sort of answered my prayers.
For the past few months, the media was warning people about a virus, caused by bat hybrids, that can cause "genetic mutation" and all that BS. I guess it sort of died after a while, because scientists didn't find any new information on the virus, and no one really thought that it would affect humans beings.
The cases of these genetic mutated people or "zombies" started having different thoughts and actions, because these zombies' brains were mutated such that the neurons inside the brain sent wrong information to the different parts of the brain, and makes our brains release different chemicals that shouldn't be released. Basically, the virus turned ourselves against ourselves.
The virus spreaded like a wildfire, like that one kid who refused to stay home when sick and made, like ,10 other people sick. That situation is similar to what we have today.
Except change that 10 to 20 million.
More and more people got sick, mainly the poor. Since the poor don't have enough money to get treated, they stay sick, and eventually pass it on to another person. That's how it got to a few hundred to 20 milllion people in one day.
I didn't know that was possible. The virus then had to be in all continents and countries in order to spread so fast. I can't wrap my head around this.
I feel like I should be a lot more scared than I actually am right now. This doesn't seem like reality, but it is, and I have to survive it.
I'm going to bed.
Only in the Movies
I'm not quite sure how to begin...I woke up today, thinking it was just like any other day. I got dressed, dropped off my little brother and headed to school. Just like any other day, I met up with friends and we went to first period.
The teacher cancelled fourth period and, for whatever reason, we were sent home with words from our principal: "Get home quickly, make sure your loved ones are accounted for and stay safe."
That was the last thing I remember before chaos broke out.
I picked up Parker and rushed home, only to find that my father was attacking my mother. Let me say that again: MY FATHER WAS ATTACKING MY MOTHER.
And not just attacking, but eating her.
I remember Parker screaming and my father (or what was left of him) turning toward me. His mouth was covered in blood, his shirt torn. He locked eyes with me and I felt a fear I'd never known. He bared his teeth and rose slowly. I quickly grabbed whatever I could as he rushed toward me and vaguely remember having to beat his brains in, in order to keep him from eating me.
My mother was moaning and as much as I wanted to stay, I knew that I couldn't. I knew that something worse was going to happen.
I grabbed what I could, put Parker in the car and hightailed it out of town.
As I write this, Parker is sleeping in the backseat. I pulled over beneath shaded trees so that the two of us could rest.
I'm not sure what to do now, but the one thing I do know is that I'll do whatever I need to do to protect myself and my brother.
We're alone now. All we have is each other.
July 13, 2016
I was going to have my first child!
My period was missed,
yet my husband was still in denial.
A clinic visit brought truth to my claim.
Overjoyed and filled with excitement,
but fear loomed the very same.
Would I be a good mother?
Of course, of course,
sayeth my lover.
But my first prenatal was cursed.
No heartbeat nor growth,
I feared the very worst.
An ER visit came next,
I came to find out..
that too was hexed.
Would I ever catch a break?
My doctor decided not.
My baby's life was at stake.
My soul had went cold.
Three months pregnant,
my baby was only 6 weeks old.
My baby... he/she had died.
Isaiah or Isabella?
I was still carrying them inside.
Miscarriage came and took my babe.
Bloody and painful,
my baby went to its grave.
My very soul was torn apart.
My unborn baby's hand,
snatched a piece of my heart.
Summer of 2016,
That's when I was broken,
On July 13th.
The answer is No
The living dead, animated corpses, have always been among us. Before there were more of us who loved life, now we are a minority. This day our reduction has sped. Hope gone. Love in hiding. Compassion too scarce to share. Candles within and without cease their flicker. We give in as beliefs that once protected our souls have faded. Fairy tales from long ago read on a loving lap to nurture now gone. Tales tattered and forgotten. Laps of fear seek to possess and devour. The dimming of our universe reduced to us remaining to huddle alone with our arms wrapped tightly around our own shrunken cores ensuring their kind will take us soon indeed. Was life ever so valuable with its unrelenting pain? No. In the end, the answer is no.
We Are The Summit (audio)
Hey folks, trying something new here by creating an audio version of a write. Please join in, especially if you have an accent. Hehehe. Joking. But seriously, this could be fun. I hope the link works. If not, let me know.
Frailty and a Butterfly Soul
he flinches in the light,
checking himself for sins
he might have missed
when he tried
to scrub the darkness away,
but his soul is frail
like butterfly wings,
and he opened holes
beneath the mist
he wears as skin,
shaped like the bristles
of whiskey and cigarette burns,
harsh like good intention
possessed by weakness.
but there is no door
in the cocoon
shaped for re-entry,
no wisp of nature's breath
that forms a current
back to the beginning,
no passage beneath the clock,
but he rises, knowing,
can still glide home.
Woke up alone
In our bed
My head feels
It throbs in pain
Oh, there's a stain
It could be blood-
We should stop mixing
Alcohol with S&M
Booze makes me black out
On our safe word
Now and then...
DK & LiL
She swims in whiskey,
watching as fish breathe,
If only she had gills
that worked on regret
she wouldn't have betrayed the school
and swam alone ...
Drifting careless through currents
as sharks say prayers before dinner.
fear is in her heart,
she's desperate for light of restoration ...
Heaven shaped like a net,?
and paradise like gasping air,?
the fear fades,
to complete darkness ... ....