It was dark out. A whisper of the summer heat still lingered in the air. The trees, slowly falling into shades of red and orange, littered their leaves throughout the garden. I could hear the sounds of the birds, flying away into the night. The boy stood next to me, oblivious to my mumblings. In his hand was a scrap of paper, hastily scrawled letters covering the slowly yellowing note.

It was a relief, in a way. The change in the air. The rest from the memories that haunted the old house. The boy turned away, drying his eyes on the sweater that was nearly dragging on the ground. He shut the door behind him, silent excpet for the creaking of the rusty hinges. It was still a recent wound, the growing seperation between us. Festering. Left to the passage of time.

I descend the rotting steps, past the ancient tire swing until I reached the big tree. Ollie had always called it the big tree. It had seemed so large and imposing only a few months ago. Now it was no more than a twig with a few bright coloured leaves. Pathetic. How quickly everything can change. One moment, the smiling faces, the green trees. The next is an empty void filled only with hurt and suffering.

I know I should follow Ollie. I should help him, like he would always help me. But it all seems so... hopeless. Useless. A waste. Why? Why does this world take the perfect people, the ones that smile for us when we cannot, and leave the rest of us incomplete? It’s like some cruel game to toy with us, letting us suffer slowly. Like the plants slowly die. The the air slowly freezes. Like the autumn slowly takes hold.

The light shawl I have wrapped around me doesn’t keep the chill away anymore. I can see the faint glow of the moon behind the storm clouds rolling in. I don’t want to go. Not yet. I don’t want to have to face Ollie. He’ll cry if he hasn’t already. I usually let dad deal with that. He was good at calming him down. I seem to only make things worse. I have a feeling Ollie blames me, in some way, for refusing to drive out to pick up Emma.

Back from school for the weekend, Emma had perfect grades, was popular with the boys and the girls and seemed to have everything going for her. I knew inside she was as messed up as the rest of us though. The road with covered in fog that day. It was ominous. It made my gut contort painfully. That’s why I stayed home and let them go. She was their daughter and barely my sister. That summer evening I didn’t even say goodbye.

The gale picks up, halting my wandering mind. It was nearly time for dinner. I should get back inside. I see Emma at the door, still leaning on her crutches. She motions for me to come in. For some reason, she didn’t seem to hate me. Out of everyone, she should want me dead. I’m the one who killed them all afterall. I can hear Ollie scuffling around inside, no doubt looking for something to eat.

I make my way through the garden, listening to the leaves rustle below me. Back past the big tree, the tire swing and up the rotting steps that feel like they’ll give way if I make one wrong move. Emma shoves the door open, letting it swing shut before me. I sigh and walk inside. The wind follows me through the house, like a ghost wandering. Lost. Without hope. I reach the kitchen.

Ollie sits at the table, deadly still. His legs aren’t swinging and he isn’t laughing to one of dad’s jokes. He never will again. Emma winces as she sits down on one of the unstable chairs. It was the one that was missing a leg. Ollie and I had sat down together and taped a stick from the garden to it. We’d painted the chair a bright orange, now faded to a dull yellow. Like the leaves outside. Everything dies.

The draws hang open. A few bent knives and forks are scattered on the bench. Only the spoons weren’t covered in rust or mold. I open the cupboards. A few jars of homemade jam. A loaf of bread. Tinned vegetables. Canned soup. A batch of cookies I’d made that night. No one ate them. I take what I need and slam the cupboard shut. I never knew one house could give someone so much pain.

Ollie shoves a window open, sticking his head outside. He points to something. The car.

“Can we get something better to eat?”

I hear Emma pull him back inside and lock the window. I knew without looking that she hadn’t even peeked outside. Hadn’t given the car a single glimpse. If you look closely enough, it looks like some of the read leaves have blown in the cracked window. They weren’t leaves.

“No. We can eat whatever is here. I’m sure she’ll make it taste real nice.”

Their voices sound like there coming from a different room. So distant. I construct the sandwich and notice the mold on the bread. I pour the vegetables on the side of the plate. They probably won’t notice. If they do, they won’t care.

“I don’t like her cooking. I want something else,” Ollie mumbles silently.

“Look. She made sandwiches. Just like mum,” Emma takes the plate from my hands.

A loud shatter rings through the house. The plate lies broken on the ground. The floorboards are cracked from the weight. Small splinters weaves lines below. Enough to see the dead leaves under the house. I look down. Blood drips down my leg, flowing into a pool of red at my feet.

"Why did you leave?" My voices echos throughout the empty house. The cracked windowpane distorts the world outside. The trees. The leaves. The red leaves. Like blood, slowly swirling through the sky. I see the car. Rusted. Broken. Like my mind. I turn to leave. The clouds have gathered together in a storm. Rain sprinkles down from above, showering me in water. No. Not water. Blood. Her blood. His blood. Their blood.

I fall to my knees. My breathing quickens. I sense them behind me. Emma. Ollie. Mum. Dad. All of them. Dead. The car crash claimed some. My hands claimed the rest. Why?

I ask myself that everyday. And it was for one reason. If you live life suffering, are you truly living? No, not to me.

Everything dies.

i have left and i have gone

swifter than the sky

do not follow, don’t come near

this my goodbye

i see you in the knotted trees

an echo of our love

if i was the fallen bird

you were the dove

i see you in the crystal lake

a mirror, shinning lie

you and i are not the same

this is my goodbye

my mind is at war, raging war

i wish we were back home

but alas i’m gone and never there

through the world i’ll roam

bitter words come to mind

when i see your face

you may think this feeling hate

but that is not the case

i love you dearly, i always have

and forever more i will

but this force so strong scares me

and so shall scare me still

i will not forget the longing desire

as much as i try

that you have sparked in me

so this is my goodbye

If I, King Julien (that's my name), only had two days left to live, I would do all the things I have ever dreamed of doing. I would love to become a professional whistler. I'm pretty amazing at it now, but I wanna get, like, even better. Make my living out of it. And you know what else I would do? I would...invade a neighboring country, and impose my own ideology even if they didn't want it!

#favoritekingjulienmoment

sometimes the nights seem long

the day a faint and distant memory

but i've always been here next to you

relishing together in our memories

as day breaks, the night disipates

and the sun is a beacon to lead you

away from the dark tunnel of anguish

that you have inevitably passed through

what does dwelling on the wicked do

but distract us from the path we travel?

so stay true to the world you love

and the globe around us shall unravel

unravel into strings of vibrant glory

colours of the water and the trees

seep into every crevice and crack

and our hearts they do seize

the dark has no place in this world

so we'll banish it breathlessly

together, carrying one another

for that is the way of destiny

the road seems long

the nights seem dark

and hope seems distant

but fire is born from a spark

i will always be here

even if you don't see me

but keep this close to you

and know i will carry thee

stay true to yourself.

don't let the dark win.

be the beacon in the night.

i try to reach you

through a foggy mirror

but its panes are distorted

we aren’t getting nearer

now all i see is a faint

reflection in shadow

inspiring these words

but filled with woe

your verses have stuck

and now i see

this isn’t a sad end

it’s setting us free

you have always been

a light to follow

the reason that my writing

is no longer hollow

so i’ll take this chance

to say farewell

to the one who helped me

out of my shell

these words can’t express

all i long to say

to tell you goodbye

before you go away

so thank you.

and goodbye.

i used to think everyone felt it

the empty hole in your heart

but now i know it was just me

it felt like being pierced by a dart

i think it was the knowledge of

never fitting in

always on the outside

abandoned by my kin

i felt lost, stumbling in the dark

no hands to guide me

but help i need not

from this hate i shall flee

the cliques and groups are lost

within their own mind

striving for attention

but to us they're blind

its hard to breathe sometimes

suffocating in this endless madness

that is the world of fitting in

all for nothing was my sadness

now the hole has been healed

by others who feel the same

those who fit in are clones

like players in a mocking game

it’s hard to fit in

but it doesn’t mean you need to

this cracked image distorts the world

it’s to yourself you need to be true

you are not lost

you are not alone

you are true

right down to the bone

memories swim in the shattered mirror

mirror to my lifeless heart

heart fragile, breaking below me

as i lose myself in lost memories

wrapped in a midnight reverie

the blanket of night fades away

revealing the beast within

a world of sullen grey

is this a nightmare?

but my eyes are open wide

the land gives way to the sea

and there is nowhere to hide

waves lap against the shore

their deep blue seeping into the sky,

the dark sky of black

if this is truth, is my world a lie?

dim figures dance in the fire at night

twirling to their song

eyes of embers, hair of smoke

the tales were not wrong

they watch quietly as day breaks

and their flames go out

smoke rises slowly in a dance

leaving the figures without

i take a match, long and thin

lighting up the wood

but alas the dancers dance no more

dying as fast as they could

in the dark hours of the night

i feel a flood drown me

clawing at my heart and soul

waiting to see if i can flee

i try to keep it down

i try to keep it out

but this flood that drowns me

is a reason for me to doubt

it feels like a hook

that drags you away

into the deep dark of night

and out of the light of day

i learnt to swim when i was young

but the tides are just too strong

washing away the life i know

in its drowning song

in the dark hours of the night

i feel a flood drown me

but now i claw and swim back up

until my body is free

under the moon the tides recceed

the flood runs to the sea

i take a breath and close my eyes

i’m finally free of me