They argued, they fought, they yelled

One roared, one shrieked

Screeched like the siren that

Wailed a warning inside my head.

Both were fuming

Spewing acid and hate

"You mislead me!"

"I should've married someone else instead!"

They didn't notice the lone figure

Listening on the other side of the door

Helpless. Horrified.

Wondering if the hundredth time was the end.

I was petrified like stone

And utterly paralyzed

After those tumultuous days

I was never the same again.

you found me

hiding out 

beneath tissue and layers

of bad gags

not bagged gifts

frozen

stilled in terror 

that life was going

to kick my feet out from under me

and knock the wind from my lungs

then laugh. 

you found me

and I was never the same

as then 

when you grappled my demons

pulled me down

under your covers

pried out my secrets

made me laugh

like incoherent

and innocent and 

alive again 

under your spell

under you

with the weight of

nothing but love

as a force field

holding me down

holding me with bliss

and I was never the same. 

"I was never the same" "No I didn't know his name"

That's what all the victims say

Then they categorize their lives from before and after that day.

They measured their lives with this as a point, a plot on a graph.

Not me. On my life? This is just a dot- I'm dealing with no aftermath.

I'm fine.

        I'll be fine.

I can take care of myself, there will be no outbursts.

(I'm cracking on the inside. Why does it still hurt?)

I've seen it on TV, they made it look so easy.

So how come when I'm the victim of sexual assault,I still, somehow, feel like it must be my fault.

playfully, you looked at me

when you asked me my name

knew you already, but

a stranger, just the same.

so much between now and then, 

and also so little

our feelings so tender, and now

so brittle

the silence so loud, my heart in my ears

and the days and weeks that stretched into years

the end, no surprise, save the end of the game

you, so unchanged, while i

was never the same.

You are still there watching,

Waiting to hold my fall.

But risks are not my game,

Since you left, Pa,

I was never the same, again.

You still fill my purses somehow,

For the things that I thoughtlessly buy,

But the coins left by you are my sovereigns

Since you left, Pa,

I was never the same, again.

You still caress my hair,

For times when I hide and cry,

But tears no more flow like rain,

Since you left, Pa,

I was never the same, again.

I have many roles to play in life,

But I wish to be the little girl,

With a thousand pet names,

Since you left, Pa,

I was never the same, again.

I need you

Alone

All to myself

Can't you hear the storm?

It's building every day

Clouds muddle my thinking

As I watch your hips sway

I need you

Alone

All to myself

Can't you see the droplets?

Pressure building inside me

Winds test my capacity

As I get a glimpse of your knee

I need you

Alone

All to myself

Can't you feel the warmth?

A storm has passed this way

Rain released in torrents

As you feel it's spray

I needed you

Alone

All to myself

Hi, Prosers!

As you know, our motto this year is transparency, with our core focus on you, our Prosers.

Around a month ago, we decided during a team meeting that we wanted to crown a “Proser of the Month” each month, as a celebration of the talents and contributions of the community.

We put our heads together to choose our first Proser of the Month, and we all unanimously chose this particular Proser.

This person has been active on Prose for a whole year now, and has brought so much to the table. Not only can he write so superbly that he makes us all green with envy, but he writes with such raw honesty that he moves the reader with his prose every single time, without fail.

He is the creator of the hashtag fuckery, that many Prosers have adopted, and has helped Prose behind-the-scenes by providing valuable feedback and advice. He is all-in when it comes to Prose, and invests all of his spare time, and words, into making this community what it is. He supports his peers by providing valuable feedback, and we think he is damn awesome!

Your first Proser of the Month is Rolando Hernandez, otherwise known as @rh! Congratulations, Rolando, this is absolutely deserved.

What does this even mean? Well, firstly, it gives you bragging rights. It also gives you a beautiful PDF version of our favourite piece of yours, voted for by the team. We will send this to you via email. Print it, frame it, hang it. It’s yours to do with what you will. The piece that we have chosen to showcase is “Virgil.”

Across our social media each week we will be sharing your profile and prose with our followers. We believe that you epitomise what Prose is, and will always encompass. Talent. Craft. Measure. Support. Community. The freedom to express oneself.

Karen, our super talented designer, has made a video of your piece, which has kicked off our brand new YouTube channel. It’s available now. (We will embed the link in this piece.) We will share this across our social media channels, and we hope that all Prosers will too! A copy of this video will also be emailed to you.

Finally, we want you to help us choose the next Proser of the Month. We will get in touch with you to discuss within 24 hours.

We couldn’t be more proud to have you as a part of the community, a community that we know will join us in congratulating you on this achievement. Thank you for sticking around, thank you for being an integral part of Prose.

Irons way up, dude.

Until next time, Prosers, keep doing what you do. Write.

Prose.

i stopped praying the day i fell through the water. after forty days of nothing, i felt like it was time to shake the dust off my knees and stand up. i was flesh and bone and all my sins, which were greater than the sum of their parts.

when i was little, i felt god in my rib cage once or twice. i endured panic attacks before i knew what they were. my heart would start pounding fast but before it could shock me, a hand would slip between my bones and rock my heart back and forth to its beat.

you're safe now,

you're safe now.

i think it was faith.

the third time i felt god was different. the tent was set up in the front yard for the night, and the cats were keeping us awake. scratches and shadows on the fabric fought us, so we retreated inside.

i was the first to walk in through the front door, but i sensed a presence in front of me once i entered the living room.

do not be afraid,

for i am with you,

he said.

i wasn't truly scared,

but i nodded.

i was in sixth grade when i discovered the books named after a series of colors. each story was different, but they were all the same. a simple girl would make the wrong decision and choose to drink/have sex/puke/etc. until she was a wreck, but then she would repent and god would grant her a happy ending.

when i started coming undone in eighth grade, i remembered the stories, so i turned my bedroom into a chapel. i fell to my knees and lowered my head as i rested my shaking hands on my dresser. i sobbed and i prayed, just like they did in the books.

i'm sorry.

i regret all that i've done.

lord,

please grant me redemption.

forgive me.

i will change.

i will follow you forever.

i will never take your name in vain,

i promise.

i'll go to church every sunday,

and i'll pay attention,

and i'll do whatever you say,

just help me,

please, help me.

i don't want to be this way.

nothing. so i tried again two weeks later, and again when another two weeks went by. maybe it didn't work because i didn't believe what i was saying, but i sure as hell tried. but oceans didn't split and bushes didn't burn; there was no sign to show me where to turn after i had failed to become a believer. it got to the point where i begged to be a martyr, but god and my own demons kept me in the middle. i couldn't really live, and i couldn't die, so i gave up on both.

now i am the salt of the earth; i let life and death walk all over me. i have nothing left to say, nothing left to pray. i am finished scribbling psalms on my ceiling in the hopes that god will notice.

i am older,

wiser, now,

less susceptible to his holy ink.

sometimes i feel it a fourth time.

lord,

grant me the wisdom

to think.

A portal of uncertain absolute clarity, wistful thoughts, and blinding vision from a furnace of unfiltered light. My blood, flooded. Glass walls overfilled with dark, fuliginous red wine and blissful highs of eloquent, uncensored intoxication.

Mournful warning, striking blows, through somnambulant, repetitive nights.

The sky lit, a green galaxy of affectionate,

dangerous, historical, shades of heaven.

To never know would be a sin, a lie of living, the marvel of... words, four thousand miles of imagination, seized, in a second of elongated moments.

A world darkened by wild swans, tamed. A complex lake of stricken beauty.

In love, I fell.

The door slid upwards and the room behind it attacked. It was a barrage of smell, light and heat that made her gag, squint and tug at her collar all at once. In her days serving she'd been victim to chemical weapons with less potency.

She entered. The smell got worse but her eyes adjusted quickly. Flailing bodies were tossing one another about beneath strobe lights, enacting various questionable interpretations of dance. A good number of them boasted an extra limb or two. Or mandibles. Or scales. The culmination of interplanetary peace amidst the worst each People had to offer. Den of iniquity times ten.

Erica skirted away from the insectoid creature looking at her, briefly seeing her reflection in its multi-faceted eyes. It made a clicking sound and followed, reaching out to tug at her sleeve.

"How about a drink for the human?" The voice came out with a high whine, followed by another click. His kind were undoubtedly half the reason for the odor. They were voracious scavengers that carried the scent of their dinners around with them in a sickly-sweet perfume.

"Not interested."

"Oh, but the human is so pretty. The human has such nice features." The tug got more insistent as the thing's pincers clamped down.

Erica gritted her teeth. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile, but she guessed brawls and gunfire weren't terribly uncommon in a joint like this. Sweeping her hand around, she brought her gun up right beneath the thing's massive jaw, leering at it as its antennae flattened against its hairy head.

"No means no on my planet, buddy," she growled. "Don't know what it means where you're from, but I'm not here to play games. Touch me again and you won't be reporting back to the hive tonight."

"Nnnno disrespect was intended, human," the creature replied, letting go of her arm and putting up its hands. The clicking got more prominent, anxious. "You will get no more trouble from this one."

"See that I don't."

She turned away but kept the guy in her peripheral. If she flashed her badge she could probably clear a swath through the crowd in an instant, but she couldn't play it that way. Even if Hensen already knew she was here, she could at least use the throng to blend in.

The music kept flipping between different preferences. Now it was a high keening, some sort of wind instrument or other that was utterly irritating. Nearby a couple fell to the floor, doing what she assumed was a quickie. Erica gave them as wide a birth as she could while holding down bile.

She didn't like to consider herself racist, but as quickly as everything had evolved, everyone was having a difficult time adjusting to all the new faces and customs. It had taken centuries, after all, for earth to gain peace, and that was just amidst one species. There was no telling how much longer it would take for everyone to get comfortable again.

"Y'look tense."

Erica looked towards the voice. It had a distinct drawl to it, the sort she only heard in old westerns she'd watched on boring evenings off.

"Have a drink with me?"

The man smiled at her. He had quite the smile, she noted. Dimples and everything. She was immediately leery. There were all kinds of cues that he was out of place: the whiteness of his teeth, his clean clothing, the quality weapon on his hip. She supposed he could be another agent sent looking for Hensen, but she doubted they would have been kept in the dark about each other if that were the case. It would be too dangerous to cross paths and mistake an ally for an enemy.

She slid into the seat beside him, nodding at the bartender. "Just a water for me, thanks."

She got a downright condescending look from him, but he slipped off to retrieve it anyway, his spindly wings fluttering uselessly on his back.

"Sorry critters, Malorites."

Erica arched a brow wordlessly, but the man just continued to smile.

"I'd be pissy too, if I got that close to flying. Like they got caught in the transition of evolution and kept the souvenir for laughs. Not like it has good looks to rely on either."

Pursing her lips, she watched the back of the Malorite's pale, bald head. He returned, bearing his gums in his estimation of a smile, watching her with wide black eyes. Once he trotted off to cater to some other patron she subtly pushed her water away.

"Scared it got some of its slime in there?" The man asked, chuckling.

"Some might take offense to your comments."

"You don't appear to." He winked at her. His eyes were blue and bright, the sort of eyes sappy adolescents wrote poetry about. She immediately disliked him.

"I should be going," she said. There wasn't likely much she could get out of this guy. She should be probing others for answers, not cavorting with someone just because they made her less uncomfortable. Because they were human.

"That's the crux of the matter, isn't it?" He tapped a finger on the glass of his drink. "They're not human. Not like you. They're just too different, aren't they?"

Erica froze. Her mind backtracked to her encounter with the sniveling little bug, and she immediately began groping at her sleeve. She felt nothing.

"Too late I'm afraid." He flicked the glass, making a soft, high ping. The people disappeared, the bar vanished, and to her it seemed they sat alone in an empty room together, silent save for their breathing.

"Shit," she whispered. "Hensen."

The mind-reader smiled at her. His fingers formed a steeple in front of his lips, and he tapped them softly. "It's hard to pinpoint one person in a mess like this. Find one mind. If I tried to seek you out without a little direction I'd probably drive myself insane in under a minute. Thankfully people around here are easily swayed with something shiny."

Erica fumbled for her gun, but that too was gone. Or rather, she wasn't really moving. At the bar she likely looked like she'd fallen asleep, and Hensen would just be smiling to himself quietly. Nobody was going to come to her aid. She was going to have to –

"Thinking your way out of this one likely isn't going to happen, miss O'Riley," Hensen said warmly. "In that department I have you at a distinct disadvantage."

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, Erica willed herself to veer her thoughts away from certain subjects. He could get them, yes, but she'd make him shred her mind to do it.

"I could," he said agreeably, "But I find that distasteful. You're a brilliant woman, O'Riley. It would be a pity to do such a thing to you."

"I won't cooperate."

He smiled again. "Of that I have no doubt! I would be disappointed if you did. Honestly, madam, I just wanted to talk."

"Is that why you made yourself look like that? To make me come over and talk?"

The man made a wave of his hand. The visage fell away, one he'd catered strictly for her no doubt, drawing on attributes she'd find attractive. In its place, however, was a creature arguably more appealing. His eyes were purely white and peered out of a finely boned face, framed by dark braids. The rings on his hands dotted all six of his long, webbed fingers, and his ears fanned out on either side of his head, sporting gemstones. He looked like some sort of merman from an old fairytale.

"Ah," he said, and again flashed his teeth at her. "You do not find my kind so repulsive. So fickle you humans are. All about the looks."

She didn't refute it. In a way, it was true.

"In what way is it not?" He tilted his head.

"Most people can't just crack in and tell what I'm thinking," she snapped. "We haven't denied anyone alliance based on their appearance. Despite personal thoughts on the matter, everyone has had equal opportunity."

Hensen blinked in owlish surprise. Either he was a good actor, or it was genuine. "My dear O'Riley. You actually believe that, don't you?"

"Of course I believe it. It's true."

"Perhaps you are not so clever as I thought," he murmured. "A pity."

Erica felt her blood start to boil. She wanted to take one of his pointy ears and twist it until he cried for his mother.

Laughter bubbled up out of Hensen's throat. "I wouldn't dear. In my world, we consider that flirting."

"If you're going to kill me," she replied lowly, "Just do it. Like I said, I won't cooperate. You'll have to –"

"Yes, yes. Tear it out of you. Turn you into a babbling vegetable, like I have so many other people on a digital list I'm sure you have somewhere. A fiend am I, a scoundrel of the highest caliber!"

"I wouldn't say anything about you implies caliber," she hissed.

Hensen's eyes flicked suddenly to his left. Hope surged through Erica's chest. Someone was coming. He wasn't the only one who could stick a tracker on her. No doubt her superiors had…

"I was hoping to do this more gently, my dear," Hensen said. "But I'm afraid this is going to be a bit uncomfortable instead. Do find it in yourself to forgive me."

He reached out before she could pull away, hands gripping her temples in a vice. Pain shot down her spine, radiating from the base of her skull. She opened her mouth and screamed, writhing as she felt something being inserted into her head. It was a knife, she knew it. Knew it from the feeling. One cutting her down the middle, passing through every single nerve as it went.

Hensen's expression was genuinely remorseful. "Do cling to sanity now, dear," he said. "You're going to be very important later."

He vanished. The glaring lights thumped back to life, and she closed her eyes tightly against them. Feet shuffled away as she fell back off the stool, clutching at her head and weeping openly.

Vaguely she could hear someone saying her name, asking if she was alright, but it was drowned out by the train of memories barreling its way through her mind.