* not sure if this exactly counts as a poem or not. But I gave it a shot. :) *

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Sweaty palms,

racing heart.

Silence.

Rapid breaths,

terrified eyes.

Pause.

Thunking footsteps,

getting closer.

Stop.

Shadows tower,

covering light.

Creaking.

Glowering eyes,

searching the dark.

Heavy breathing.

Masked face,

looking down.

Locked eyes.

Huddled tightly,

thumping heart.

Soft cry.

Dark hands

reach and reveal.

Scream.

Dear Monster Matt,

I always was deathly afraid of you. I'm old enough now, to know you no longer reside under my bed.

But I remember the days, checking under the bed, before crawling under my covers. The shivers that would crawl through my body as the lights shut off. The tears that would collect in my eyes when I heard a creak and saw a shadow. The fear that as soon as I drifted to sleep, you would grab me and pull me away.

Mom and Dad would scold me if I were jittery of the monster under my bed. They always told me to go to sleep. There was no such thing. They tucked me in, kissed my nose, and shut off the lights.

The drunken fun I heard outside my door added to my fear. The fear the monster would take me and tear me apart while I was missing out. Some days I wished it were true, so my parents would believe me. If they saw me torn to shreds by a monster in the morning, surely they would have believed me.

Now, I understand you no longer live under my bed. I grew out of the fear of monsters under my bed. But some days, I still have a longing dread inside. That maybe, there is a monster still there. Perhaps it's not you. Perhaps it's not quite under my bed.

Perhaps, it's a monster of my past. That keeps bringing up dreaded memories.

I would much rather deal with you, Monster Matt, under my bed. Then the monsters that haunt my dreams.

Trigger warning: Though this story is fictional, it contains blood and self-harm.

Alex flipped through the music on his car radio. He finally sighed and switched it off as he pulled into Chrissy's driveway. His car's headlights hit the garage and blinded him. Her house was darkened, but there was a small flicker of light deep inside a window.

He turned off the engine, and ran a hand through his rich chocolate colored hair. He had to speak with her, but how? Alex opened the door and tried to calm his racing heart. He strode to her door and raised a fist to knock, hesitating.

Alex knocked, his heart pounded faster. Alex had decided to come to visit Chrissy. Yes, he had broken things off with her, but he still loved her. He licked his lips and knocked again. Oh, how would he explain that he still loved her, without breaking her again?

He knocked a third time, but there was no answer. Worried, he found her spare key and opened the door. The lights were off, but the bathroom door was shut and a glow emanated from under the door. "Chrissy?" He called out, knocking softly on the door. Nobody stirred inside, "Chrissy?" Alex knocked more violently.

He carefully opened the door, and called out again, "I'm coming in, Chrissy." He opened the door and a gasp escaped his lips.

Chrissy was lying on the floor, her face pale and a towel wrapped around her arm. Blood seeped through the towel and created a puddle on the floor next to her small body. "Chrissy!" Alex rushed to her side, panic filled his body.

Her eyes fluttered open and she gurgled a soft whisper. "A-Alex... I-I ju-just meant to.." She swallowed and gasped for a breath of air.

"Shhh.." Alex stroked her pale face gently and pushed her bangs off her forehead. "Don't talk." Tears dropped from his eyes to her shirt. "Just hold on, please."

Chrissy let out a weary smile and closed her eyes. "You still love me, don't you?"

He pulled her into his arms and hiccuped a sob. "Of course I love you Chrissy!" His brown eyes spilled more tears. "Just, just hold on." He grabbed is phone and dialed 911. "The ambulance is coming."

Chrissy fluttered her eyes and looked up at him, "I-I'm sorry." Her green eyes were glassy and struggled to focus on him. "I-"

"Shhh," Alex pulled her closer, her blood smeared onto his shirt. "Don't speak," He grabbed another towel and wrapped it tightly on her wound, trying to stop the blood from flowing. "Just hold on." He caressed her cheek as her eyes closed and her breathing grew more rapid. "I-I should tell you,"Alex started, "I still love you, and I always will. Just hold on, they're coming."

His eyes brimmed with fresh tears as her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. "Don't give up, Chrissy. I'm sorry I broke your heart. You trusted me, and I hurt you. I didn't know how badly you were hurting, but now I see." His tears dripped down to the floor, mixing with the sticky red blood. "I still love you, but my feelings were frustrating me. I was hurting as I loved you. So, I broke things off." Sirens sounded in the distance.

"Chrissy, I love you and always will. But I understand if you don't want to ever trust me with your heart again. Just know, I love you still, and always will." He gently kissed her forehead, "Please, just hold on, even if you don't want me."

Lights flashed in the driveway and paramedics rushed in to the scene. Alex sat holding Chrissy, his eyes red with tears. "They're here, just hold on. And please forgive me," He stood and moved out of the way as the paramedics entered the bathroom with a stretcher. "I love you and I'm sorry, Chrissy."

Peppermint tea,

just you and me.

Perhaps we will see,

what is meant to be.

Oh, peppermint tea,

just you and me.

Sitting together,

wishing forever.

Just you and me,

sipping our peppermint tea.

Journal entry #100

Today wasn't much different from the past two months. I've been finding my way on nuts, berries, and the few wild animals I find. I hope someday someone will find me on this forsaken island. If starvation or thirst won't kill me, maybe loneliness will. As far I as I know, I'm the only survivor of the shipwreck. The only person to have survived the thrashing ocean waters.

Of all the days I wrote on page after page in a couple journals, I don't know why I decided today I would share some of the story of the nightmare I will never forget. A box of empty journals, pens, pencils, and books washed ashore with me. The journals were dry, well most of them. I let the others dry for days, in the baking sand and scorching sun. The books.. well, they didn't really survive the salty waters. The pages were soggy, words bled everywhere. Useless. I let them dry and ripped pages, using them for the fire. One other box washed ashore, with some salvageable food. Barely enough to last me the first couple days. After the first day, of hunting the island's beach, I decided to make camp. I gathered branches, sticks, leaves, grass, anything –– and made a tent. A shelter to keep me safe. In the brush there are berries and nuts. Sometimes I find a lizard, frog, or small animal. Then I bake it over my fire. I eat, write, sleep, hunt, and repeat. Day after day, night after night. Week after week and month after month. It's the same. The same grueling days, the same loneliness, boredom, and heat.

Perhaps, because I'm bored. No one to talk to, no one to look at. Just the ocean, the sky, and the never-ending sun. If I hadn't built a little covered area under the trees, I might have shriveled into a raisin by now. Thankfully, I found a fresh spring of cold water, saving myself from dehydration or salt-water. This island is full of new discoveries. Yet, I still don't know what life is beyond the few chirping birds and waving trees. Should I look for more life? What if there are cannibals, ready to devour me? What if there are wild beasts, ready to take me down? The fear I allowed to build inside my mind, keeps me from going on into the depths of this unknown island.

Loneliness. Boredom. Probably one of the things I dreaded most in life. Really, you don't know what it's like to be lonely, until you've experienced it. All I can think of to keep myself company, is making up small stories. Or.. telling my life stories in these journals. Why should I? Maybe it'd be better to bury myself in the sand and lay there, dying. No one will come after me. I'm no princess nor queen, why should anyone look for me? I'm just a lowly girl, from a poor family. Her father decided one day, he could gather enough money to let her explore the world. No one knows what happened. No one cares. No one.

Journal entry #101

This is the second entry for today. My fire is built, the flames licking the air. In the hottest of the day, I sit in the shade and write, bored. Sometimes I sleep. In the dimming evening light, I write. The moon shines so brightly some nights, I'm able to write thoughts at any time.

What if someone finds these journals? Maybe I could bury them. In the hope, someone will come after me. If I'm long gone, by either starvation, loneliness, or whatever creatures live past this beach; they'll find this. At least they might find out who I am. Maybe shed some light on my family.. share the news with them. Perhaps, I should stop wishing. This island is in the middle of the ocean. If help were to arrive, it could take months –– who am I kidding? It's been months already. Maybe it'll take years. Hopefully, I'll be alive; maybe thin and scraggly, but alive when help finally arrives for me.

As I stare at the journal and the fire glimmers, the screams of everyone on the ship haunt me. I have nightmares at least once a week. Maybe more. I don't even know what day it is. I lost track ages ago. I only hope the other passengers found help, if any survived. It would have been better to die in the ocean's waves, or receive help while half-alive, then have to live on an island. Where there is no life and each passing day is the same. Maybe one day, I'll build a raft, and float out of here. Then again, maybe it's just my mental state, wishing such things. I fear I won't survive on the food that's here. I already got sick from some of the foreign berries. Maybe I should find new ones... better looking ones.

There's something that howls in the night, I always crouch closer to the fire, afraid to leave it. When it's light, I gather as much wood as possible. The darkness is full of unknown creatures. I'd rather stay close to something I can feel safe. The darkness haunts me, it tries to smother the light I have left. The light I try so hard to keep alive. It's dying, slowly, but it is.

There's something creeping close by, I can feel it. A twig just snapped. It would be a shame to stop writing now. Perhaps... wait! There's a shadow! It's... a... human..? No! Wait! It's gone. Phew! That was close. I'll write faster, in case this.. this human or creature decides to take me.

Whoever finds these journals, if anyone does.. please give my love to my mother and father. I regret not being able to tell them how much I cared about them. I was a foolish girl, desperate for adventure. Where did that get me? Lost. Lost in the middle of an island, where loneliness will be my death.

Dear Love,

Everytime I see you, my heart races, my palms grow sweaty. I believe love’s to blame for these feelings I get. I admit that I do miss you; please come visit soon. I wish you could stay now, but I know your duty is calling. Please, be safe, my love, I couldn’t imagine the world without you. It’d be a dark, dreary place. So please, stay safe; I need you to come back to me.

I suppose that I wrote to tell you.. I can’t help falling in love with you –– with your laugh, your smile, and your character. But I also write, because I miss and love you.

I remember you promised to take me somewhere nice. So, don’t forget. I do long to hear your soft chuckle; it rings in my mind as I write.

If I could, I would give you a hug; but heartfelt words are the best I can do over a distance. But please remember, I am yours and I will wait for you. My brother promised to keep all the traveling men away from me, until you return.

I miss you much, but I love you more.

With love and forever yours,

Eleanor

Prompt: You’re in a waiting room at a clinic that promises to cure writer’s block.

My hands wrung together nervously. I glanced around the waiting room, observing a few of the other’s seated around me. I leaned back in the chair, then crossed my legs, then uncrossed them. Nervous energy coursed through my veins, pumping through me with every heartbeat.

I stood, then smoothed my skirt. A woman sat behind the receptionist desk of the office. Her glasses sat on her nose and her penciled brown eyebrows furrowed together.

Her fingers flew over a keyboard as she stared at a computer screen. I walked over. “Excuse me?” I asked.

She looked at me over her glasses, her gray eyes silently scolded me for interrupting her work. “Yes, miss?”

“Ho-“I swallowed a lump.” How long until I get called in?”

The woman whipped off her glasses. “Have a seat, and be patient.” She replied coldly.

I nodded nervously and took a seat again.

Someone opened a door and popped his head out. “Mrs. Greenfir?” He called.

An older woman stood and walked over to the door. “That’s me.” She smiled. “I heard you can help with writer’s problems?” She asked before following him.

The man’s voice came through, slightly muffled by the closing door. “That’s right. You’ll be fresh with ideas and words will be flowing in no time... although...”

I strained to hear more, but I couldn’t make out the rest of what he said. I sat nervously waiting, a young man stared at me from where he sat. “You here for getting help with writer’s problems?” He asked.

I nodded slightly. “Writer’s block.” I paused a moment. “You?”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I seem to have way too many ideas and I don’t know where to start..”

“Oh.” I swallowed hard.

The door opened again. “Miss Gold?” A soft, female voice called.

I stood quickly and walked over to the lady. “Yes.”

“Right this way, Miss.” The nurse led me to a room and had me sit on a chair. “What symptoms have you been experiencing?” She grabbed a clipboard and peered at me.

“Uhm.. Well...” I hesitated.

“Go on.” She coaxed.

“Mostly writer’s block,” I started. “I haven’t been able to get ideas down.. I just haven’t had inspiration to write.” I sighed.

“I see.” She scribbled furiously on a paper. “The doctor will be right in.” She glided out the door.

I sat in the chair, nervous. Who knows what the doctor might say? Would he give me some sort of medication? A list of prompts? A lump formed in my throat; or would he tell me to stop trying and give up writing?

The doctor slipped into the room. His white gown swooshed as he shut the door. He glanced at me with his green eyes studied me for a brief moment. “Miss Gold?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” I replied.

“Well, seems you need some help, correct?” His eyes locked onto mine.

“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “Do-do you have a cure..?” I nervously asked.

The doctor threw his head back and laughed. “A cure?” He laughed as though I was crazy. His eyes grew serious along with his voice. “I do have a so-called cure, which may or may not help you.”

“Please, share it with me.” Hope welled inside my chest.

He set the his clipboard down and grabbed a chair. He sat himself down and turned to face me. “How often do you write? Do you overwork yourself?”

I could feel my face turn red. “I try to write everyday, multiple times a day,” I paused “Overwork myself..? Uhm, I guess occasionally I do.”

The doctor chuckled. “There’s the problem. You work too hard and try too hard to write.” He touched my knee. “Stop trying so hard.” He leaned back in the chair.

“So.. you’re saying I should stop writing?” My voice grew harsh. “That’s your cure?”

He laughed again, causing shivers to tingle up and down my spine. “I didn’t say to stop. Although..” His voice trailed off.

“Doctor Kinston, I mean no disrespect, but you just told me to stop trying.” I could feel my emotions getting the best of me. “What else could that mean, except to stop?”

The doctor stood and smoothed out his coat. “Miss Gold, the cure is up to you.”

“Pardon me?” I stood abruptly. “I came here to get a cure, and you are telling me that the cure depends on me?”

A laugh erupted from his throat once again; how I wished he’d stop doing that. “That’s right.” He motioned to the door with his hand. “I have other patients to get to. Are we done here?”

I grew frustrated. “What do you mean?”

His eyes turned to me and shone like gems. “I mean, you decide what to do. You decide to write, that is the cure. You decide to take a break, that is the cure. And so on.” He cleared his throat and grabbed the doorknob. “You decide if you want to help yourself by finding ideas, organizing ideas, and so on.”

“But-” I started.

“Good day, Miss Gold.” He swept out the door.

I stormed out of the room and into the waiting room. “It’s a hoax!” I screamed. “There is no cure!”

The receptionist glared at me. “Miss, I demand you quiet your voice!”

I turned to her, fury growing inside of me. “The doctor said there is no cure!” I screeched at her.

She yanked off her classes. “And he is correct.” Her hand ripped a sheet of paper off a stack and she shoved it towards me. "Sign here," Her long finger pointed at a line.

I huffed and grabbed a pen, angrily scribbling my signature. "Now, anything else I can help you with?" She asked.

"Why isn't there a cure?" I asked, my fury slowly subsided.

"Because, there is no cure for writer's block," She said the words that I had always feared most. "You have to overcome it. And that," Her finger pointed at my chest. "Is up to you, my dear." Her eyes narrowed. "Meaning, the cure, is up to you."

I sighed and shook my head as I left the building. I supposed the doctor was right, the cure was up to me.

The frigid wind whipped the snow into my face. I trudged through the knee deep snow, trying to find shelter. A shed, a lean-to, anything. My boots had filled with snow, wetting my feet. My pants were covered in snow, from top to bottom. The rest of me must have looked like a snow-woman.

I gasped for breath, the biting wind seemed to suck all the air away from me. I finally stopped, my fingers were numb with cold. I brought them up to my mouth and blew, trying to warm them.

I squinted searching for a light or sheltered area. Something yellow glimmered faintly in the distance. “A-A light?” I gasped.

New energy coursed through my veins, I started running towards the light. It seemed further with every step I took, yet I pressed on. After what seemed like an hour I reached the light. A small cabin stood bravely in the swirling snowstorm.

I felt along the strong, log wall and found my way to the door. I brought my cold, numb hands to the door and pounded with all my strength. “Open up!” I called. “Please!” I hit the door harder. “Please.” I rasped.

The door opened and I fell into the cabin. Snow came falling inside with me. A tall figure stood over me, my vision blurred as I tried to take in my surroundings. “Well, well, look what the storm blew in.” A male voice chuckled.

Strong arms pulled me out of the entry and further into the cabin. The door shut with a hard smack and I laid panting on the floor. My vision was still blurry and dark spots danced in every direction.

I glanced around trying to take in my surroundings. Strong, yet gentle hands pressed me back down. I blinked, trying to study the stranger in front of me, but the room dizzied around and everything slipped into a black hole.

* * *

Warmth seeped into my bones. A blanket was wrapped around my shoulders. “Where am I?” I murmured, my eyes flickered open.

“In my cabin.” Someone chuckled.

I looked at who the voice came from. A middle-aged man sat across from me. “Who are you?” I asked.

“More like, who are you?” He stood and crossed his arms. “You’re the one who came here, invading my peaceful home.”

“I-I’m sorry..” I stammered, before realizing he was being sarcastic. I pulled the blanket closer and blushed.

“Here.” He handed me a mug.

I took it and slowly drank the warm hot cocoa. It felt warm and soothing as it slipped down my throat. “What’s your name?” I asked, after placing the mug down.

“Adriel.” He replied. “You must be Esmerelda, right?

“Yeah... I’m Esmerelda..” I slowly answered. Something about Adriel made me slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was his piercing green eyes that studied my every move.

“Well, welcome to my lovely cabin, Esmerelda.” He smirked.

I slowly stood. “Thanks..” My heart jumped when I realized what made me uncomfortable. It was his familiarity with me; his way of talking as if he knew me my whole life.

I stumbled backwards, as the realization hit me. “Y-you a-already know me.” I stammered.

A small smile crept across his lips. “I make sure I know everyone who passes by my cabin.” He leaned back. “Unfortunately, no one really stays. You’re my first real house guest.”

A feeling of dread gripped my heart. “What do you want with me?”

He leaned forward, his eyes stared right into mine, freezing my next move. “I have no intention of harming you in any way nor touching you. I will not do anything to you,” He promised, then continued, “Yet, my reason for having you stay here, is for me to know, and you to find out.” His words snapped like the crackling fire.

Prompt: “Write a description of Frankenstein as if you were writing a love story.”

I thought this could be humorous and decided to give it a shot XD Also thanks to my great friend GLD for for sharing this prompt with me!

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I saw a shadow move by a riverbank, the setting sun reflected the rippling water. The shadow was tall and seemed to take on a male form. It hid behind a large oak tree and peeked around, shyly studying me.

I walked over, curious to find who or what was hiding. As I crept over, the figure stepped out. He was a tall creature, not quite human, but handsome looking in the sunlight. His green-ish skin took on a glowing hue from the sun, his yellow eyes studied me. A mat, of what seemed to be hair, sat up top his uniquely shaped face. He opened his mouth, to reveal a set of white, straight teeth that shone in the golden lighting.“Ooh!” I giggled as he reached his green, largely shaped hand towards me. He uttered a few noises.

“I,” I patted my chest, excitment growing inside of me. “Am Angela.” The huge beast uttered more noises, a smile grew on his face. “An-ge-la.” I pronounced slowly.

He opened his mouth and tried to repeat the word I spoke. “Aaaanaaalaaa.” He deeply moaned.

I laughed softly. “Close, An-ge-la.” I tried again.

His brow furrowed and he uttered more sounds. “Aaaanaalaa.” He repeated.

I sighed, “That’s good enough.” His hand patted my golden curls. “Do you have a name?” I asked, not quite expecting an answer.

He pounded his chest with a hand and uttered a long string of sounds. I tilted my head. “Maybe.. I’ll call you Trenton.” I looked into his yellow eyes.

He nodded excitedly in agreement. “Tttteeeenonn” He moaned.

I laughed again. “Good!” I grabbed his hand. “Come on! Let me bring you home.” I smiled.

I led Trenton through the forest back onto the road and we walked into town. He uttered multiple, guttural noises as we walked by houses. Several mothers stared in shock as I walked hand in hand with my new found friend. Children hid behind their mother’s skirts. Men tipped their hats at me, then their jaws dropped in surprise at the sight of Trenton.

I walked him past all the stares and whispers. Trenton’s hand raised and he pointed at a group of young woman gathered together. Their gossiping whispers carried through the breeze and met my ears. “A.. monster?” One gasped.

“Some alien.” Another hissed, her eyes boring into my soul.

We walked briskly by, I ignored all the onlookers. Finally, we arrived to my home. I opened the gate and walked up to the door. Trenton looked at me with his yellow eyes, another smile grew on his face as I opened the door.

“I’m home!” I called through our home.

Trenton ducked through the doorway, and stumbled into our kitchen. He stood up straight, his coal black hair touching the ceiling.

My mother walked in, “Angela where have you-” A scream erupted from her throat. The plate in her hand fell and smashed on our tiled floor. “WHAT IS THAT?” She screamed, cowering by the stove. Her hand grabbed a pan and she raised it as a shield.

″His name is Trenton.” I smiled proudly. “He’s my new suitor.”

“YOU’RE WHAT?” My mother screeched, horrified.

Trenton smiled broadly and patted my head gently. “Aaaaanaaalaaaa.” He proudly stated.

“A-Angela.” My mother’s voice quivered. “W-what is that?”

“He’s my new suitor.” I repeated, patting Trenton’s hand.

“C-can we talk, privately?” She asked.

“Of course.” I turned to Trenton and motioned with my hands while speaking loudly. “You... stay... here..”

He nodded and made a few deep, uncomprehensible noises. I left him and joined my mother in our living room. "What on earth do you think you are doing, Angela?" My mother hissed at me. Her brown eyes smoldered with confusion, anger, and fear.

"Mother, please." I smiled at her sweetly, "You said I am old enough to find a suitor, so I did."

"Angela Freanna Nadia Grasswood!" Mother stamped her foot and rose her voice, "I don't want you finding random..." She huffed under her breath for a moment. "Not that this-this- thing is human." Her brown eyes bore right into me. "I don't want you looking for suitors off the streets! I expected better from you, Angela."

"Mother," I sweetened my voice again. "Please, he is so kind, and gentle! He won't harm a fly. Besides... he's different. That is what I want in a man." I felt my cheeks warming slightly.

Mother narrowed her eyes. "There will be no such relationship, with this... creature-like-thing, under this household. We will see what your father has to say about this!" She stormed away from me and peeked into the kitchen.

I strode into the kitchen and nodded at Trenton. He smiled broadly once again when he saw me. "Aaaaanaaaallaaaa." He greeted me.

Before I said anything, my father waltzed into the kitchen. His glasses sat on his nose as he held a newspaper under his arm. "Angela, you have been-" His blue-gray eyes fell on Trenton and he froze. His voice grew low and deadly."Get behind me now, Angela."

"Oh Father!" I giggled and walked right up to Trenton. "This is Trenton, my new suitor."

Father's jaw dropped."You-your-" He spattered unable to finish his sentence.

"My suitor." I smiled happily.

"Angela Feanna Nadia Grasswood, there will be-" He started, then stopped when Trenton reached his hand to greet him. He slowly reached his hand out and shook Trenton's hand. "Well, I suppose I was wrong about you." He smiled.

"See?" I giggled again. "Trenton, is the nicest and most polite man."

"Trenton.. nice to meet you." My father greeted him.

"Tttteeeennooooonnn." Trenton moaned and patted my father's arm gently. He pointed to Father and opened his mouth, making numerous noises.

"Oh, he wants to know your name!" I translated.

"Ah! I am Frederick." He called out for Mother. "Dianna, have you met Angela's new friend?"

"Freeeerrreerrriiccckk." Trenton proudly said. Then said my mother's name. "Diiiaaaannnaaa."

My mother appeared at the doorway, her face pale. "Y-yes, Frederick?"

"I believe Angela has found her suitor, my dear." My father grabbed a glass of water and offered it to Trenton.

A dull thud sounded, we all turned around and my mother laid on the floor, passed out.

"Aaaaanaaaalaaaaa." Trenton happily stated and patted my head endearingly.

I had found just the man I was looking for; someone...different.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#fiction