A betrayal of trust,

When I thought

Our friendship was just

A companionship built

On common ground,

Shared worries,

Similar insecurities

I adored talking with you,

Finally, someone

I could open up to

I thought it was mutual

For you, too

After years of being friends,

Spilling old stories,

Reassuring new failures,

You suddenly disappeared

Never to speak a word again

To this day, I wonder

If it was something I did,

If it was something I foolishly said,

Maybe you just

Never truly cared

All I can say is

It was a betrayal

Of blind trust

For the last three days, Mara has received a card, flowers and a box of assorted chocolates at work. Each came with a note, not signed, One day I will have you.

At first, the gifts were pleasing and put smiles on her face, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered, “What if this is some creep or sicko, playing mind games with me.”

The end of another week arrived and with that, she left the office on a dark and somewhat dreary Valentine night. With a slight grimmacing smile (and no Valentine lover in her life), Mara started walking the five blocks back to her apartment. What, with the weather frigid, she walked briskly, with purpose.

Starting on block number two, she could hear whistling, a somewhat eerie whistling. Mara didn’t stop to see where it was coming from and began to increase her pace, all the time thinking how nice it would be when she left Saturday to spend the day with her sister, Grace.

In block three, the whistling seemed louder, and closer. This time, she did turn, without stopping, but saw no one. Her heart began to race slightly higher and she was becoming nervous. Where was the whistling coming from?

By block four, her nerves slowly cracking, for now, the whistling continued. It was as if the tune itself was mocking her now apparent fear, Desparately, she tried to make her legs speed up so she could be inside her apartment, and be safe from whoever it was doing that eerie whistling.

As she reached block five, she felt, more than heard someone directly behind her. Fearful and scared, she walked faster; tears formed and slid slowly down her cheeks.

Less than fifty feet from steps that would lead her to the security door to her apartment building; that was when it happened.

A hand reached out and spun her around.

She gave out a brief piercing scream, and as quickly, she cut short.

“Oh, Brandon! It’s you. You gave me such a scare.”

Brandon works for the same company she does They rarely speak at great length, but they say good morning to each other. Simple things, nothing more.

“Yes, it’s me, Mara. I had hoped that....”

“Hoped for what? Wait! Was that you that sent me all those gifts? Thank you.”

“Yes, it was me. I had hoped you would like them, but then I overheard you saying to no one in particular, what if it’s some kind of sicko.”

With that, he plunged the knife deep into her belly and twisted the blade.

Mara’s eyes went wide from the pain but no sound came from between her lips. The suddenness and shock was too much for her. Her blood pooled out of her in the shape of a heart.

“I just wanted to get to know you better, Mara, but that won’t happen, will it. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Brandon walked to his apartment, thinking, Who will be next?

You seem so sincere

But sincerity can be faked

You say you always tell the truth

But lies are easy to create

You seem so beautiful

But beauty’s only skin deep

You say what you see is what you get

But a façade is easy to keep

You seem so trustworthy

But trust can be misplaced

You say you’ll keep secrets

But divulging is easy when you’re two faced

©Heather Ann

#Poetry #Poem #Betrayal #Challenge

Melanie, don’t you cry

It will be alright

I’ll be here to hold you through the night

You don’t understand why things happen like they do

Believe me when I tell you

Someone will find you special like I do

It’s not easy

When your heart confuses you

You don’t know what to do

It’ not easy

When you mind is filled with doubt

Will anyone love you?

Melanie, don’t you cry

I know the sun will shine

I think everything’s gonna work out fine

One day you’ll understand why things happen like they do

And you’ll believe me when I tell you

Someone will find you special like I do

Fear engulfs me...

Fear of nothing at all...

Fear of the thing lurking in the dark...

Fear of my own imagination...

They say it’s crazy...

That I’m lying to myself...

About the things in the dark...

They say it is fake...

A figment of my imagination...

I know their right...

I know it is fake...

Yet they’re not disappearing...

The things glare and dismay are there...

But not its shape and silhouette...

Why is my mind making such tricks?

When will it stop this...

fear?

The things aren’t there...

I know this to be true...

So why won’t they disappear?

We all would love to have everything you could dream of. Everything you could imagine you wanted it. It sounds greedy and selfish, but it's what everyone wants. Everyone wants that open window and leap right into the dream they've always wanted. But your window is locked and a dark shadow tells you. "You're not good enough!". You plead and ask the dark shadow for the way through the locked window to your dreams. The shadow shows you a pamflet and slides it underneath the open crack at the bottom of the window. A contest pamflet to give your best novel you can create. You take that pamflet and use your imagination create the best novel no one has ever heard of. You spend weeks and weeks creating the most badass characters, intersing plot, wonderful setting and a great ending. You feel so accomplished. You feel so proud of yourself. You make your way to the locked window and hand in your manuscirpt to the dark shadow. As the dark shadow looks it over, and in your head feel so happy and joyful that the dark shadow will let you in....

The window opens, adrenaline and excitement rush throught you body. You start you way in. Only to have the dark shadow push you back, as some else more popular then you goes through with no trouble. The dark shadow throws the manuscript into your face and slams the window. You ask yourself what happened, why was I not allowed. You look down at your manuscript and see that you must try harder. You spends many months preparing novels for the dark shadow to read only to have every single one of them thrown back at you. You ask the dark shadow "Why have you rejected my novels?"

The dark shadow turns to you and says. "You are not popular enough." You spend more and more time creating more and more novels, only to have them rejected over and over. Until you evenutally. You give up on your dream. You watch as more and more popular people go through the window into the dream they've always wanted. As you sit down and watch you start to feel forgotten. You feel lost. You feel alone. You feel rejected. Your chest feels empty, your mind is filled with hatered. Everything you worked for is thrown into the trash.

As you start to cry about your rejection, a door suddenly appears over you, You look up as it opens with another person. The person sees you and asks "Did you write this novel?"

You say "Yes."

"It's absolutly wonderful." The person says, more and more doors pop up saying all the nice things about your work. As you stand up and look around every door that opens complements on you novels you've created. As the doors disappear the dark shadow unlockeds the window and opens it up. You mak your way to the window and ask the dark shadow.

"Is this for me?" Th dark shadow nods and you begin to make your way through, the dark shadow hands you a contract form for you to sign. When another door opens up behind you, you see another person jump out yelling "Don't do it."

You look down at the contract and then looked back at the person asking. "Why?"

"You'll be all alone in your dream, Your mind will be consumed by the fame and fortune. Your soul needs to be free not in shackles. Come join us in our world, we need you inspration."

You stare at the person and then back at the contract, you pause for a second and then drop the pen. You go back to the person with the open and you enter with the sense of freedom... letting your imagination run wild.

“Grandma,” Laurie said, scrambling onto her grandmother’s lap in the rocking chair,” tell me how you and grandpa met. Please.”

“I’d love to, darling. Let’s see,” she closed her eyes, rocking gently and holding Laurie.

“Well, I was working in an office back then, and one day one of my co-workers said that there was some gorgeous guy down in this place called Sweet Imports. You should see him, she said. Drop dead gorgeous, said another.”

“What did you do Grandma?”

“Well, the next day, I went there. It was a kind of café.”

“What’s a café, Grandma?”

“It’s a place where you can buy foods like sandwiches and salads, muffins and cakes and things like that. And coffee, of course. Café means coffee in French.”

“Do you speak French, Grandma?”

“Yes, darling,” she laughed.

“What happened next, Grandma?”

“Well, as soon as I opened the door, it was as if no one else were there but Grandpa and me. He looked at me and we smiled at each other as if we’d been waiting for that moment all our lives.”

“Did you say hello?”

“No sweetheart; actually, I just bought a muffin.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I left and my heart was pounding.”

“Why, did you run from the coffee?”

“No, sweetheart, I didn’t run from the café.” She looked into little Laurie’s face. “Think about this: When you get really excited or happy about something, does your heart seem to beat a little faster?

Laurie scrunched her face and thought. Then it lit up with understanding. “Yes, Grandma! I get it. It’s like when we’re going on a trip or coming to your house, or like when we got the new puppy!” Then she frowned. “But I jump up and down a lot too, Grandma.”

Grandma laughed, as did you from the other room. “Well, I was jumping up and down on the inside, honey,” she smiled, hugging Laurie close to her. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, smiling at the memory she was sharing.

Although you were in the next room, the warm timbre of her voice caressed your skin, enveloping you in the memory, touching your heart. You closed your eyes, and remembered…

You had looked up and though you didn’t know, her knees quivered. You saw a familiar face though you had never seen her before and felt your heart leap. She looked into your eyes, big and brown, framed by long thick lashes, and smiled. You looked into her eyes and returned the smile, shy and sincere. Your face, open and innocent.

You didn’t speak. She walked to the back of the line and watched you work. Another took her order. She paid and left. You watched her from beneath those lovely, longed for lashes until only the echo of her heels remained.

Later that same day, she returned. The bell above the door tingled. You felt her before the door opened. Your skin felt like electricity ran through your veins, alive with her gaze upon it. You looked up, your eyes met; she smiled, not as innocent as you, a little nervous, a little wary, already in love. You smiled and your heart was in your eyes.

“May I help you?” you asked with a lovely accent she could not place.

“Um, a strawberry, yogurt shake, please.”

“Right away,” you replied.

She watched your every movement. You felt her gaze burning your skin. You flushed.

Your hand trembled ever so slightly when you handed her the shake.

“Two-fifty. You can pay the cashier.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

You shared another smile. She left.

For a week, no day was complete unless she came in twice a day: muffin in the morning, shake at noon. Finally, you decided five minutes was not enough. You wanted to know this woman. The woman behind the smile.

“I would like to see you,” you said Thursday afternoon.

“I see you every day,” she replied, surprised, scared, excited. Scared.

“No, you misunderstand. I am working. I would like to sit. Talk. You know? Know you better.” You were nervous now. Had you misinterpreted her eyes, her smile? Your English wasn’t very good, but you had thought some things needed no translation.

“We’ll see,” she said, smiling and almost running from the store.

The next day, she came in and smiled but ran out without saying a word. The weekend was long. You played videogames with your brother and watched the clock, counting the minutes until you could go to work on Monday. You even cleaned the bathroom – shared by four men who didn’t like to clean - to make the time go more quickly. Sunday afternoon you went to a flea market and bought a pocketbook handmade in Turkey, your home. Sunday night you drank an entire bottle of vodka and chain smoked two packs of cigarettes to calm your nerves. Your friends laughed at your drunken tears but also tried to boost your courage.

Monday morning finally arrived and when she came in you said, “Don’t go. I have something for you.” You came from behind the counter and handed her the pocketbook.

“Oh my! Thank you so much!” She hugged you and you almost fainted. Your knees quivered. “What time do you finish work?” she asked.

“4:30.”

“Well, if you don’t mind waiting until 5:00, would you like to have dinner tonight?”

Silence. Did you understand correctly? Did she just invite you to dinner?

“Yes” you spluttered, afraid she’d take it back. Afraid.

She smiled. “Good. I’ll meet you by the fountain at 5:00 o’clock.”

“5:00 o’clock,” you repeated.

She took you to a health food restaurant. The food was horrible. No meat and you didn’t recognize anything on your plate. Then, you didn’t have enough money to pay so she had to pay. You gave her every penny in your pocket except what you needed for the subway. You thought, what an idiot, she’ll never go out with me again. Then, she took your hand as you walked to the train station and your heart soared at the same moment that you began to tremble and then worry about your sweaty hands.

That was Monday. Every day that week she came in, smiled, bought her muffin or shake and left. But the smiles were a little brighter. The eyes spoke a little more clearly. No translation necessary. All of a sudden it was Friday.

“Would you like to spend the day with me tomorrow?” you asked. “We could walk around the city and then I will take you to nice restaurant for dinner?”

“That would be lovely. What time would you like to meet?”

“Noon? By the fountain?”

“Sounds great.”

It’s Saturday and you are banging your head on the subway door. You have been sitting in the middle of nowhere for an hour. No moving. They make announcements but you don’t understand. You just think, she will leave. She will think I’m not coming and she will leave. She will hate me. First, I couldn’t buy dinner, now this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And you bang your head to the rhythm of your thoughts.

One-fifteen. You are running through the station. You take the steps two at a time. You are sweating, praying, panting. You can’t breathe, but you run. Hoping. You run through the lobby and push through the revolving doors and stop. You see her by the fountain, reading a book. She looks up, smiles and waves. In that moment you think, that is the woman I am going to marry. And you do.

“Grandma, where are you going?”

“To give Grandpa a kiss.”

Laurie giggled. “Why Grandma?

“Every time I tell that story, I remember how much I love him.”

“And I you,” you say coming through the doorway and pulling her into your arms.

“Ooooo! Grandpa, grandma! Mommy! Grandma and grandpa are smooching again!”

He stood there with this pale and lifeless expression on his face. He knew in an instant life was going to stop for an unknown amount of time. He had just told his fiance only moments before the blue had presented themselves, in their relentless pursuit towards him at his surrender, how much he loved her and how she should never worry and that being worrisome would do more harm than good. But she knew something dreadful was about to occur and had been feeling a sense of doom deep inside her stomach for days, she knew that danger and sadness were going to be haunting them soon and her instinct had indeed been spot on for her nightmare was now a cruel reality.

She didn't know what to do or how to act as the two policemen stood there behind him reading him his rights, while simultaneously placing him in his handcuffs. They proceeded to pad his body down while searching him for something. But of course they couldn’t find anything. She kept taking nervous drags off her smokes while watching him be treated like more of a rabin animal than a actual human. She was trying to remain strong but she could feel the tears start to stream down her face and the heat rise. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to see that her crimson cheeks were glowing a deep dark red by the second. She watched him lock his expressionless eyes with her. He was numb but still scared. And she could see his sadness. He was speechless, and was about to meet steel bars, concrete floors, and batheles nights. No more cuddling up to his dog and her at twilight, tucked away in a cozy bed. No more pancakes and fresh brewed coffee at sunrise. No more waking up in the middle of the night to watch reruns of Andy Griffith and recorded episodes of his favorite shows and movies while munching on caramel popcorn and cool ranch doritos. There would be no more love making and no more hugs and kisses and human touch would all but disappear. He would soon miss all the upcoming holidays. No celebrating with his fiance her upcoming birthday. No Friday night bright lights of football. No trick or treaters or pumpkin carvings. No turkey on thanksgiving with her and his son. Christmas or possibly New Years gone. His freedom gone. The one thing our soldiers fight for us to have every single day- gone in seconds. The one thing that sets us apart from other nations. The right to vote. All rights taken away in an instant. He was now property. He was no longer going to be treated like a human or even an animal. Like trash for the most part. He might as well have been dead. Why didn't' he learn the first and or the second time? He was not going to lose her or let this happen again. This was his last rodeo.He meant it this time.

He asked her for a last drag off of the smoke she had in her hands and for a quick kiss too. They whisked him away and that would forever be the last memory they had of one another for a long while. She found herself to be breathless and tried to fight the sudden urge to vomit. She shook violently but did all she could to remain calm since she had to go back to work and pretend that all was just fine when it wasn't. Once she finally left work she sobbed hysterically for what seemed like an eternity. She missed him so much. He was her best friend even though he often drove her crazy. She didn't know how long he would be gone and she didn't know you could feel such pain as she was feeling right then. It was a deep pain, she felt isolated and couldn't sleep or eat anything. She was full of anxiety and depression. She was mourning him greatly as if he had died. She knew everything would be okay as soon as she saw him or heard from him again, but right now her world was turned upside down. He was gone. And he want the only one in prison. She was too. But she knew he would get out again some day. And of course it would be the last time.

The moment my head hits the pillow I'm asleep. My husband hates it. First reason: I snore.. loudly. Second reason: he has borderline insomnia. So when we crawl in our big comfy bed and he wraps his loving arms around me ready to get a little closer, chances are I'm already out. This shouldn't be a problem. Thousands of people wish they could have this “super power” including my husband. What those thousands don't know is that this is no super power. While I might fall asleep quickly, it is far from a comfortable sleep.

At some point in the night my restless legs will wake me. It starts with a tightness in my leg. It's a feeling of dread that only those with restless legs can begin to understand! The tightness starts to move like shorts in  electric wiring. I shake my legs to relieve the tension but this doesn't cause relief. I have some “tools” I use that help. A flip-a-zoo my husband gifted me and a message ball. On some nights I am lucky and can place the message ball on the meaty part of the hip and lay on it. It hurts like hell but eventually the electricity and tightness abate, and I can sleep. Other nights my flip-a-zoo is used as a support pillow for my quadriceps, the front thigh muscles, and my adductor muscles on the inside of my thigh. On these nights I spend my time tossing and turning, adjusting the flip-a-zoo and chasing the pain.

My restless legs aren't the only thing that wakes me from my slumber. Most of the time my shoulders are burning coals of hot fire! I can't lay on my lefts side, which is my favorite way to sleep, because the pressure it puts on my shoulder is insane. Rolling on my right side impacts my Ulnar nerve a.k.a the funny bone, and we all know that's not funny. If by chance I find a way to sleep through the night, there will be a fifty-fifty chance I wake with a migraine. A head splitting nausea inducing, eye popping migraine! A “hurry up and take a couple Excedrin and go back to bed” type of migraine.

By the time the moon goes down and the sky is a grayish blue, before the sun starts to wake, I've spent the entire night uncomfortable but I am able to fall asleep.With a three hour sleep average I start my day. The restless leg pain has left my bottom half stiff, my shoulders are aching, my neck needs cracking, and my head is pounding! But I have children, a husband, pets, and a job. No time to bitch and complain.

I manage to juggle my responsibilities with a certain savoir faire. It's hard to hide the amount of pain I am in. Some days are harder than others. Some migraines keep me in bed with the windows shut tight and my flip-a-zoo under my head. Sometimes my shoulders hurt so bad, driving is impossible. I can barely lift my arms to hug my children. Other days are fine. The aches are not so bad. They are more like irritations. Nothing that a couple ibuprofen’s can’t take away.    The days that I am aching, and the days that I'm okay are nothing compared to the fog that blinds me.

Sometimes I am forgetful for days, but it can last for weeks! During this fog, I can't remember anything, and I make simple mistakes. I am cranky, tired, and frustrated at myself, but end up taking it out on everyone around me. It's not because I'm mad at them. It's me I'm really mad at. These are the days I hate the most.

This is what living with fibromyalgia looks and feels like to me. It's not a pretty picture, and it's harder to explain. I can't find time to do a lot of things that “normal people” do, because all of the sudden it's 9pm and I couldn't tell you what happened to the last four hours! It feels like I am missing out on so much in life. That I can't live it to the fullest breaks my heart. I feel like I let my family down when I can't get my shit together. There are times I miss out on work and I think “what the hell am I doing? Why am I pretending I can do this? I should quit and save them from having to fire me.”

Fibromyalgia is more than a little bit of pain. It's never knowing where you stand. It's pretending that your okay when really you're a mess! It's a dirty house and dirty clothes because you're just too tired. It's sleeping in, missing work, forgetfulness, and low self esteem. Fibromyalgia is lying to everyone. It's saying “yeah I'm fine.” instead of, “No I'm in pain.” because if you tell them that again they are going to think you're crazy! Nobody really feels sick every single day! And if I am in so much pain why can't the Doctors help? Fibromyalgia is knowing there isn't a reason for all of this, so you stop going to see the doctor all together. It's hot baths and heating pads. It's needing to exercise and stretch, but not being able to feel the benefits. It's debating taking antidepressants and opioids because they might help (but you know they won't. You've tried them before).

Living with an invisible disease is hard on your body, your mind, and your soul. It's about living life as well as you can and doing as much as you can. It's having good days, bad days, and days you won't remember at all! It's getting up no matter how bad you feel and not giving in to the pain. It's not listening to the negative voice inside your head telling you lies.

It's all these things but it's also, knowing your strengths and weaknesses. It's not pushing yourself too hard. It's knowing when to say “no, I'm hurting” without feeling any shame. It's loving yourself enough to allow yourself to have some bad days.

To me, Fibromyalgia is being able to fall asleep quickly and praying to God I get to sleep comfortably throughout the night.

Kyle looked out his bedroom window. He didn’t like the view. His house was right near a graveyard. Seeing all the tombstones about made him feel so uneasy.

He shook his head and took a deep sigh. Kyle walked to his bed. He looked around. Then bent down and checked for monsters underneath his bed. Okay, clear. He sat down and removed his house slippers. Then stretched his hands, as he yawned. He felt his eyelids begin to slowly close.

*drip*

*clink*

*bing*

Kyle opened his eyes in panic. What was all the ruckus? He was trying to get some shut eye.

He got up and went to turn on the lights. Nothing. Uh! Kyle grabbed a flashlight by his bedside and switched it on. The door creaked. He jumped and moved the light toward the source of the noise.

Phew. It was only the door. Kyle removed his free~hand from his chest. This was one strange night. He decided to shut his bedroom door.

Kyle went back to sleep. But he made sure to place the flashlight back near his bedside.

When he tried to go back to sleep, he felt a hand move over his shoulder. Kyle screamed. He got out of bed and quickly grabbed his flashlight. Oh, it was only his teddybear that his younger sister, Tracie, handed to him. She thought that was the best company right now. He’d have to find someone soon and not hang around with a stuffed animal forever. Ah, Tracie could be such a thorn in his side most of the time. There was nothing he could do to change the way she was. He still loved her though, even if she was a mean one.

Kyle rubbed his eyes. The moonlight shined right through the clear, smart windows of his room. He dragged his feet over to the window, to close the curtains.

The second his hands were ready to pull the curtains, he saw something coming his way.

Kyle looked at the figure. She passed right through the window and placed her hands on Kyle’s shoulders.

He felt like his soul was being pulled away from his body. She looked into his eyes, the necklace around her neck started to glow azure.

Kyle watched in horror as his spirit left his body, it separated away from him and moved closer to the woman’s necklace. The necklace’s glowed brighter while Kyle’s spirit merged with it, as one.

With that part complete, Kyle’s body was left lying on the floor. The moonlight shined over him as if trying to shield his body from any other forces. Only it was no good, for his soul had been taken away from him without any warning.

#Spectre.