The words fell into place

like leaves to the ground

Hard to start

easy flow

Patchy groundwork

More layers to go

Kicked aside

Raked up with dew

Fun to jump in

though they can hurt you

numerous as they are

You can't find what you look for

Always more leaves

Always another fall

Though time is limiting

and death comes to all

When the leaves are gone

the tree remains

New leaves will grow

And fall again.

There are people who care.

Is the line I often come back to

when I'm struggling to be.

I grew up with buying certain

foods, clothes, and toys

categorized as special occasion things.

Hand-me-downs filled my dresser

Though some I barely wore

Clothes were welcome gifts

And I'd still be happy if they were

I'm in college and still ask

if I can get a choclate bar.

There are people I need to see

And those to stay in touch with

Songs I need to sing

And those I'll put up with

And one day I hope

My mom won't have to break herself

just so there's money to scrape by with.

I have more things to write

And many more to do

As a lonely neurodivergent

There's one thing I come back to:

If I were gone

a number of people

would be impacted

And I could never see

my mother in retirement.

There's people who care

especially those I care about

This is why I don't wanna die

even when existing is something

I could do without.

The title is lyrics from the Queen song Bohemian Rhapsody by Freddie Mercury

Livin' in a powder keg givin' off sparks

ain't water under the bridge

I don't belong here

Head spinning

no kidding

You're a firework

The brightest colors

fill my head

Addicted to a certain kind of sadness

Walk the plank

Remember the dream

With our eyes wide open we

bullets scream

to the sound of the beat

Floating around in ecstasy

I was born this way

I was born in the U. S. A.

Sure, the book happened to be in my seat. I found the book, but I didn't find it. It was placed on the plane meticulously. It was part of my fate. As the book explains, we all have a fate. Mine is to visit the realm of the living to see what kind of horror humans are making on their own. I then take that information to Hell's main office, so they can make ‘improvements’ to the punishments and general awfulness of the place. Hell still finds a way to be less bad than living for me. No wars or discrimination, everyone is treated like shit. Even the billboards they added recently aren't as unhinged as some on the sides of freeways or toll roads. It's incredible humans aren't the Demons, and Earth isn't Hell. Sorry, I didn't mention what the book is called, did I? It's a leatherbound copy of On a Pale Horse. Thing is, what I see in Hell isn't what anyone else sees. Everyone sees what has been determined to be the correct level of bad for them. I have to continue returning to Earth because it's my own personal hell. That's also why Hell looks very corporate to me. Its appearance has changed over my existence here. I've been part of Hell so long, it once looked like polluted Victorian England during the height of the industrial revolution. It has evolved to match whatever the most heinous human setting is at current ever since. I don't remember my human life anymore, yet it haunts me. Next time I get on the plane, I won't touch the book. Funny how the others in Hell think anything can scar me more than They Live. Especially now that I know you could switch aliens for Demons and the premise wouldn't be too far off. The flaw being that a mistake such as allowing humans to get their hands on the special glasses would never happen. Or would it? I don’t know how much of a difference it would make anyway. If anything the Demons in disguise are more sane than the actual people anyway.

Rework of original:

The victims got a call a week before each of their respective murders. They were told they'd be fine if they never missed a call. With jobs and busy lives this was an impossible task. The first call each missed they got a voice-mail. It explained in gruesome detail what their final moments would entail. Now everyone waits in horror to be the next to get that call, and authorities scramble to find the killer before they miss one call.

Different idea, same name:

Protagonist misses the one call they swore they never would; the one from that friend saying they had hoped they would pick up, but this is goodbye. The one who they were closest to, but who had no other friends. The friend you tell yourself you'll check up on, to make sure their okay, because you know they're depressed. They now blame their self for the friend's passing and spiral. The movie follows them through their grief over one missed call.

I was supposed to follow one of the team members with my camera. We were exploring a haunted asylum, not that I believed that at the time. I was new and all, so I wasn't super familiar with the others. I followed the person I thought I was told to all night. We met back up at the end, and they asked where I had been all night. I was going to point out who I had been following, but they weren't there.

Confused, I told them they could check my footage, but I had been following someone. They all started chatting with excitement about what I must have captured. I was bewildered. Not knowing what had just happened, I answered their excited questions with mumbled "yeah, it was cool, I guess." and "I thought it was a person, so there was no reason to be scared." They told me to leave quickly, and make sure the footage wasn't wiped. Thereafter, we headed home.

I live(d) by myself, yet when I got to my place the door I had locked when I left was open. I searched frantically to see if there had been a burglary, but nothing was missing. It seemed there were some additional items like another toothbrush, toothpaste tube, pair of shoes, and so on. Exhausted, but not wanting to do the necessary steps to go to bed, I plopped on my couch. I eyed the kitchen, as my stomach was a bit rumbly, and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw someone in it pouring milk into a bowl of cereal, before turning around and putting the carton away.

"We didn't mean to scare you." a wispy voice exclaimed in a soft tone. Burying my face in my hands, I tried to process what I was experiencing. I looked back up to see a bowl on my island with a spoon in it. I got up to check for the mysterious person. The bowl had a single Lucky Charms balloon marshmallow in it. I don't like Lucky Charms. Weirder still, there was no milk in the fridge. Figuring I was overtired, I headed to bed.

When I woke up, I headed to the kitchen, eyes glassy. The bowl from before was still there, but it was full of balloon marshmallows. I made the coffee I had come to the kitchen for, and checked my phone while I waited. The team chat was blown up over my footage. They couldn't believe I had captured such a thing at all, let alone my first time. They also had figured out the 'person’ I had followed was a late team member, who had the same name as a current member. Those who had known him had reminisced about their favorite memories with him.

He hadn't believed in ghosts when he joined the group, he just needed money, but no one knew at the time. His first day on location he had wandered off without a camera, when they found him, his face was sunken, and he was sputtering “I believe you!” over and over again. He never told anyone what happened that day, but after that he insisted on eating a bowl of Lucky Charms before going to a haunted location.

My jaw dropped as I read the last message,

“Oh yeah, and the balloons were his favorite. They were always the last thing he ate.” The smell of my coffee brought me back to my senses.

I continue to be unsure what I believe, but I know there’s something after death. Whenever I'm uncertain his presence is more noticeable. Every now and then I hear different voices whisper

“Do you believe?”

I spent my whole life with them.

We're inseparable.

Never have we spoken,

and yet

our eyes

communicate.

A date to execute

European landscape can't compare

Wishing for

delay

Hoping

They won't notice

my exit.

Hoping

I won't know

when I've pushed

Their life-ending button.

The flame they light

'tis of devilish intent.

A member of heaven

or Satan's earthly society

The flames know all to well

Around you they engulf

touch you,

Burn you not

Neither Saint nor sinner

You suffer the worst

Scarred

Physically unharmed but

mentally unwind

Each lick

removes

At dusk they begin to see

You alive- not well

But breathing

A witch!

They cry

declare to the night

The rest of days

you suffer

Cleansed of humanity

In the eyes

that claim

your satanic intent

yet they are of a hellish pac(k/t)

I used to think it was time I disliked. It's weird ways of never quite feeling the same. Is a minute a blink or 60 Mississippis? It never made sense that the same measurement could feel different. An inch is an inch, a centimeter a centimeter, a gram a gram. All rulers and scales should measure these equally.

The truth is time is not the villian in this story. Clocks are the antagonist. Time feels weird because of the human error in clock use. "Time moves faster" simply because we don't watch the clock when we're enjoying ourselves. Time isn't to blame for sleep schedules being "bad". Time had nothing to do with when the meeting was or that you were late. The man-made instrument that measures a malleable thing like it's standard is to blame.

My qualms with time were unfounded. It's human error I should have grievances with.