It was that time of day where morning had started bleeding into noon, though the 12 o’clock chime had not yet rung its tinny excuse for a toll. The day stretched out in front of me, seeming to never end in all its sweltering, splendid glory that hinted at chalk powder, the occasional welcome ice cube in the glass of water, and lavishly drawn-out cold showers. I was, as it turns out, in one of children’s natural habitats, the backyard, doing a habitual practise common for children: drawing on asphalt with chalk. At this point, I happened to notice an untied shoelace.

I had just recently acquired the well-coveted skill among my fellow preschoolers, tying my shoelaces. It was considered quite enticing and well-envied, something that all my lowly comrades surely aspired to achieve. Eager to practise my proficiency at this matter, I dropped the nub of chalk and stepped over my masterpieces to the middle of the driveway. Why, exactly, I picked the middle of the driveway to tie my shoelace is a mystery to me.

I’d soon wished I hadn’t bothered to strut to the middle of the driveway like a proud peacock. To put it shortly, there was now the viscous carcass of a slug affixed to the sole of my shoe. Of course, me being the naive, puerile child that I was, I opted to the most logical pathway one can possibly take in such a situation. I kicked off the offending shoe and hopped around the driveway on one foot, screeching like the Devil himself had dropped in for a cup of tea and a biscuit, before he reaped my soul to the Underworld.

In the end, I acquired a new pair of shoes and a beastly fear of slugs.

I can walk on the streets unafraid of

someone plotting

imprisoning one of our own

"Never trust handsome men, Merideth," my mother gasped, clutching my hand tightly. "You don't know..." Beeeeeeep. The words died on her lips, and my mother's hand went limp in mine.

She'd been labeled as insane...

So when the suave, debonair gentleman dressed in black arrived at my doorstep, I trusted.

Anna ate apples atop an Alpine Fir Tree, her arms awkwardly arranged around the trunk. An amazing amount of apple cores beneath Anna had ants ambling around them. An airplane flew against an azure sky, an American Airlines aircraft. Anna watched agape, amazed and eyes affixed to the airplane as it accelerated. 

Anna's attention went back to the apples, and Anna analyzed the amount of apples left. There were a dozen apples, acrid and acidic. Anna's aching teeth were in agony from all the old Akane apples. She absently arranged the apples in a bucket. A leaf flew into Anna's Afro, and she automatically removed it, taken aback by the large Alpine leaf. 

Suddenly an alluring man with an arrogant air appeared beneath Anna's tree. Anna's hair and dress were askew and she felt ashamed in front of this person's amazing apparel. 

He said, "Anna, give me an apple. Give me a dozen Akane apples or I will get angry." Anna announced, "Aardvark!" 

"Attention! Anna, give me a dozen Akane apples--"

An aardvark attached itself to the alluring, arrogant man's leg. The alluring, arrogant man was in agony. "Argh!" Anna watched from atop the Alpine tree munching Akane apples. "No apples for alluring men with an arrogant air," she announced.

They cry out and scream

As the impossible unfolds before them

Humpty Dumpty 

chasing them through the shadowed streets of London

Holding a knife

Most of us would laugh

At the idea,

But when bad dreams hovers over your bed at nighttime

They're far too vivid

And you forget

And as reality twists into fantasy

You're too afraid and confused to tell the difference.

I try to help

To plant dreams brimming with sunshine and blooming flowers

But sometimes

They're already too immersed

In the nightmares 

Overflowing with their greatest fears

I wish

I'd driven slower

On the roads slick with frost

As pieces of winter hammered my windshield

I wish

I'd caught a glimpse

Of the tree branch falling

I wish

The bony hands

Hadn't jerked me out of the flaming car

I wish

They hadn't taken me

Hadn't sunk their claws into my skin

I wish

I was

Alive

Again.

"Why is Jimmy running around naked outside?" Anne asked.

Her mother gave her a tight-lipped look. "You've done it too."

"What?" Anne gasped. "When?"

Her mother wiped her forehead with a floury hand, leaving a streak of white on her skin. "We all do it sometimes. But most people who see it and do it don't remember." 

You hum

Scrubbing your scalp 

Strands of wet hair clings to your perfect face

Shampoo bubbles your hair

Hot water shoots out of the nozzle

Suddenly

The bathroom lights flicker

Then shine again.

You glance around:

The lights flicker again

And this time

You are plunged into utter darkness. 

The water turns cold

You inhale sharply

Panic rising in your chest

Blocking up your throat

A low voice hisses,

"Hello."

A laugh 

A deep

Chilling

Laugh

The sound is like tendrils of darkness

Like fingers grasping at you

Hands wrapped around your throat

Like shifting shadows

Darkness laced with a malevolent contempt

The lights turn back on again

Trembling,

You rinse out your hair

Afraid to move the curtain aside

Afraid

Of what you might see.