She had the sun in her eyes

The moon in her jacket pocket 

A storm in her veins

and she were always 

always...

Afraid 

Of the dark 

Mom told me not to go into the water, but I insisted. It was a hot day, humid, and the ocean beckoned—blue waves rolling up and down the stretch of white, flawless sand.

It had taken what seemed like forever to reach the beach. We had to take a jeep down steep jungly inclines, where you could see the wreckages of cars wrapped around trees. Then there was a river to cross.

Waipi’o valley is called the valley of kings. They say that you can see the torches carried by ghosts of ancient Hawaiian warriors going down the zigzagging trails along the valley. They say you can see the flickering lights as the nightmarchers drift up and down the taro fields until dawn.

Fun fact: this was also the filming location of the end scene in Waterworld.

My younger sister stayed on the beach with my mom and her friends. They reclined on colorful beach towels in the sand and chattered like birds. My sister quietly stuck her feet in the hot sand and watched me. She called to me every time I sank out of sight or ducked under a wave, her voice rising in pitch. She was scared. I did not know why—the water was blue tinfoil, the air smelled like fruity Mentos, the beach golden with it’s bright jungle border and the valley rising in the backdrop. It was beautiful. And I felt safe within its beauty, nestled between the hug of the valley walls.

So I was surprised when I could no longer feel the sand under my feet. It was a dumb animal surprise, without fear. The beach seemed like it had moved miles away in moments. The waves were larger out here and they came more quickly. And I was still surprised—but not scared yet—when, facing away from the ocean, a wave slammed over my head and rolled me down into the water.

I kicked myself up, gasping, as more waves crashed over my head. I fought to stay afloat, but the water kept getting in my nose and mouth and it burned.The distant figure of my sister hovered at the edge of the shore, called shrilly, as I waved my hands wildly and screamed out. My mom, now a distant blur on the shore, waved back. The waves crashed over my head, and it was like getting hit repeatedly.

Exhausted, I floated down in a trail of bubbles. Underwater, I could see the bright blue all around me, the foamy, white crests of waves above me, and was overcome by a lull akin to falling asleep. A drowsy sort of calm and acceptance.

I felt at peace. I closed my eyes.

To this day, I don’t know what happened. One moment, it felt like I was drifting deep underwater in the deep blue void, miles from the surface. The next, my feet hit the sand. I kicked and kicked and crawled out of the water like a bedraggled beast and lay on the wet sand with the waves rolling over me. The ocean had spat me out, unwanted. My sister ran over to me screaming, while my mom laughed with her friends on their bright towels, and I lay face-down where the waves brushed the beach gently, with my arms reaching out in front of me, and stayed there.

Hi everyone, just wanted to let you know about the e-book I wrote and is published on Amazon. I normally wouldn't, well, advertise it this way, but I'm hoping to sell enough copies to make enough money for summer camp.

    You can use the link below by cutting and pasting in your browser. Please check it out, share this post...whatever. Let your friends know!

     Thanks, you guys are the best!

https://www.amazon.com/Motto-Trilogy-Book-One-Together-ebook/dp/B01NCVACJU

I do not agree with the words pride cometh before a fall.  Maybe envy or greed, but not pride.  Because, if you were truly proud of who and what you are, then you would be content and never reach for more.  Not many fall with both feet planted on the ground.

Born from light and named after the first star in the morning, I had thought I was His favorite, the last of his created angels.  We were beings of light and energy, giving pieces of ourselves to create new stars at His bidding.  How fitting that a piece of myself is now giving life to the very things that would be my downfall.  

I had thousands of years basking in my uniqueness as His last angel, but I was not His last creation.  So many new forms of life in such a short time: beings that swam in the sea, flew through the air, and walked on the land.  Yet, it was the last creation that threatened me most.  Humans, he called them.  We were not made in His image.  We do not have fingers to touch with, eyes to see with or ears to hear with.  We were no longer the favored children, and I was no longer special for being the last.  The rest of heaven rejoiced, but I despaired.  

Like a child with a new toy, He did not have time for his angels, only His new look-a-likes.  Most of us did not show any strain from the neglect, choosing to accept the new children as brothers and sisters instead of replacements.  However, my envy only grew.  Slowly, I realized I was not the only forlorn angel feeling cast aside.  Nine in number, we began meeting secretly.  Each of us burned to be the center of His attention again, for what were we without Him?  If only there was some way to show that these new creations, these new humans, were faulty, then maybe we would be His again.

My part in the plan was simple, and I thought I had implemented it without an error.  I befriended the female human, gained her trust and led her astray.  I had thought her so stupid for reaching for what she did not deserve.  The human had done nothing to earn His attention so why would she be worthy of His knowledge.  I had failed to realize that the same flaw I was trying to condemn her for was my own flaw as well.  He did not fail to see it.  As punishment, the nine of us were cast down, forced to live as those we had tried to prey upon.  We learned new words for the new sensations we felt.  Some were good: love, tenderness and pleasure.  Others were worse: pain, suffering, death.  

Because of my part in tempting the woman, I was reformed in her image.  But while she aged and eventually died, I did not.  None of the nine did.  We learned to enjoy our new existence.  We were no longer angels, but we were special and thought we were blessed in our own way.  We had children and we loved them.  We even learned to love the humans through them.  But He had given us more in punishment than we had realized.  I gave birth to my son one hundred years after my fall.  I buried my son fifty years later.  That was an experience I wish on no one, even a human.

Once upon a time, I lived for Him.  Then I lived for another him.  Now I live for them, the people who are like me.  If only you knew how well you had it before, I sometimes tell myself.  I did not have darkness with which to compare light or evil to balance out the good.  The nine will not let anyone else be able to use the same excuse.

Don't think I'm not watching

Every second of every day

Pretending that I don't care

Or that my eyes are brand new

But really

I am plotting your demise

Now feed and pet me

The marks 

That bleed onto the

Clean, white page upon

The desk are the embodiment

Of the writer's soul, as they pour

Out, crying to be read, but be-

-ing denied the privilege, tossed

To the wind and left behind, 

No one caring no one who

Knows, except the person

To whom the soul 

Belongs.

Lucifer, the devil, temptation and sin

All bundled into one

Only one could be

Lucifer, sashaying up to her throne

In the underworld

Swinging her hips

Seducing them all

Lucifer could only be one

Only be a woman

Her feminine wiles

More persuasive than you

Could've dreamt of

Convincing you

To do whatever she pleases

Her words, always chosen carefully

Her outfits, planned out

Her gender, part of who she is

Cruelty

After you have served your purpose

She sends you down

Down below

When she's done playing

You are left bewildered

Wondering

Was that the same woman?

Crushing your determination

Your soul

Your resolve

Your love

With a snap of her fingers

All that you were

Down the drain

Smart is sexy

She uses her brains

She makes females and males alike

Kneel down to her

And vow to give her

Themselves

Lucifer herself

With a gap in her heart

Filled by seeing

The anguish of

Others

And their pains

Broken inside

Breaking others outside

Merciless

Spiteful

Disgusted at the human race

Sent as a punishment

A wolf in a sheep's clothes

Her soft hands

Manicured fingers

Wide hips

Small waist

Glossy hair

High heels

Short dress

Deceiving eyes

Delicate nose

Arched eyebrows

Make her seem like a model and

Temptation reincarnate

As she truly is

A woman alone

Could be so

Powerful

So beautiful

So captivating

So distracting

To lead you on

And astray

After she has gone

You wonder

How?

Why?

Who?

Broken

Alone

Cursed

To endure

Forever

Eternity

And she will always remain

Lucifer

Ruler of the underworld

The evil

In the world

And all things unholy

As she struts

She wonders

If anyone will see

Her

Not a beautiful figure

Lucifer

They say could

Only be a man

On the contrary,

Only a woman

Could seduce so well