To be rude to the man who cut in line

Who stands two feet in front of me

With an arrogant smile

Quite satisfied that he will get there

One minute before me

To be angry at the ignorance

Of the masses who don't know better

Who are willing to nominate a tyrant

Because they are being targeted

By those promising everything

But secretly know nothing

To be devastated by the violence

That is on our tv's

And is created by our dollars

At the movies and the taxes

That we pay

I choose not to be

Not to be the one 

Perpetrating such ugliness

To fan the flames of retribution

And pour gasoline on those 

So rotten from hate

For being rotten on the inside 

Is its own punishment

Even if they won't 

Consciously admit it 

Wrath decays your heart

And late at night

They have to listen

To the voice that whispers

That their selfish motives

Will be the downfall of mankind

So, I choose not to be 

Not to be anything like them

Otherwise I can't

Look my child in the eyes and know

The world I am creating for him

Righteous hemorrhage;

We all bleed the same, they serenade. 

Religious artifacts strewn riven,

Unsympathetically atrophied.

You can't smell the sin,

when you're sodden in gin,

leaking from your supremacy-laced chalice. 

We all bleed the same, they chant.

Cage your eyes,

It's nearly over.

Give heed to their hemic choir,

hymns polluting a resplendent pyre,

set fire

to your despondent bones.

We all bleed the same, they harmonize.

Their gore is cherished,

blindly revered.

Your cruor, rippling amongst the stonework,

they do not deign,

to watch cascade down the drain.

It was an over-sized room, meant for the combined use of relaxing and dining. Dingy 70's taupe carpeting complimented the prickly couch of the same unsettling shade. I was small, and the sofa felt like a boat, floating in a sea of life stains and muddy footprints. The coffee table felt a mile away; there was no way I would get up to reach my drink. Nothing could make me move from my seat. It was safe. And I was alone. 

Ten minutes until the new year. Brightly colored lights flashed along the wood paneled wall behind the television, soaking through the sheer curtains covering the large bay window to my right. The night was loud, but the room was eerily quiet. Obnoxious booms from nearby fireworks couldn't quite penetrate the house's brick walls, creating a muffled kind of static that hurt my head. Now and then I would hear a faint knock against the back door, along with the slight fluttering of the doggy door.  

They didn't own a pet. 

From my spot on the couch, my view was straight down a darkened hallway that took a hard right around a corner. I could vaguely see into the dimly lit bathroom but nothing else. The sound of my heartbeat echoed in my ears, seeming to keep pace with the muted ruckus outside.

I didn't want to stay. I had nowhere else to be.

The remote to the t.v. was lost, and crossing the ocean of a living room felt like an unrealistically dangerous endeavor for a few bad channels. Hardly worth the risk. 

There was a breeze flowing in from the enclosed kitchen. I told myself a window must have been left open by mistake. 

There were no windows in the kitchen.

The giant clock looming over the fireplace mantle read 11:55. 

I don't know what I was nervous for, but anticipation bubbled up inside me. New Years was nothing of importance to me. Why did it matter now?

As I watched the second hand tick along quietly, one of the three light bulbs in the ceiling fan above me burst, and went dark. 

I was a statue of a girl, listening to the rasps of her own breath. 

11:57.

The television set turned on, and the monotonous beeping of the microwave sounded from the other room. 

I was certain my lungs had stopped working all together.

11:59.

All was silent. Any noise from neighboring partygoers dulled. Fireworks stilled, and the night was dark once more. I strained my ears in an attempt to hear anything at all, but there was nothing. Only the clock ticking and the fan blades whirling. 

I waited. I don't know what for.

12:00.

Everything erupted into lights and sounds, pops and bangs, screams of excitement. The house lit up with the iridescent glow of New Years Eve. Although bright enough to see, the living room was still the same dark, minimalistic cave it was before. Jovial whoops bounced down the street. And I couldn't take my eyes off that hallway. 

An intense feeling of dread flooded me, and I swallowed painfully hard. 

Nothing was there. 

But when I looked closer, the noises of drunken fun playing on the other side of the walls around me, my eyes squinted, I could see the shape of three long, bony fingers caressing the wall, being dragged back around the corner.

Flashes of fireworks sparked down the hall, illuminating the darkness for a brief moment.

Nothing was there.