Ribbons of November

Hold me tight and drown me deep
Keep your grip
I’ll drown to sleep

Dance me in the red hot heat
Dance me in
I’ll drown to sleep

Dawning in the skies are ribbons of November
Dawning in the dawn of flies
Are ribbons of November

Waken me when there are sparks
Catch me in my dreams
I’ll fly
Take the withered leaves of mourn
Take me here
My dear, I’m torn

Closer than we’ve had before
Closer we will stay to shore
Digging nails in skin and sand
Waving frantic, bloody hands

Dawning in the skies are ribbons of November
Dawning in the dawn of flies
Are ribbons of November

Waken me when there are sparks
Catch me in my dreams
I’ll fly
Take the withered leaves of mourn
Take me here
My dear, I’m torn

Keep me steady, keep me here
Keep my company
Keep me near

Waken me when there are sparks
Catch me in my dreams
I’ll fly
Take the withered leaves of mourn
Take me here
My dear, I’m torn

***Look! Another song! =D

Amnesia and the Igloo

***Writing prompt from http://www.writersdigest.com/WritingPrompts/

You awaken with amnesia in what looks to be an igloo. You have $4 and a rock in one pocket, and a toothbrush in the other. Someone is staring at you. Write this scene.

Please limit your response to 500 words or fewer.


“Who are you?” I asked, feeling eyes upon me.

It was fairly warm in the small space that I observed to also be quite dim. There was only a small fire at the center and it lit shadows of unnerving shapes that threatened to come alive.

The being only smiled and nodded to my consciousness. He sat calmly in front of the fire, refusing to take his unblinking eyes from me.

My heart pounded and I felt chills all over my body. I looked away from the man’s eerie stare, trying to ignore it, but couldn’t. As I turned, I felt something hard jabbing into my flesh and let out a groan. I rubbed my side and realized the existing objects that hid in my pockets.

I sat up, rubbing my head and took a glimpse at the man that never took blue eyes off of me, then just as quickly turned away. He seemed to have a familiar presence and yet I felt fear to be near him. I kept my distance, crawling to the farther side of the igloo where the shadows played diligently.

I let out a breath, looking down, and my long, brunette hair covered my face. Digging inside my pockets, I found a toothbrush and a rock that was wrapped with multiple pieces of paper. I unfurled all the paper from the rock and looked closer at them, maybe hoping for them to be some sort of clue as to where I was and what I’d been doing here. No such luck. The evenly shaped bills were each a dollar and only consisting of four.

Four dollars, a rock, and a toothbrush. What was I supposed to do with those?

Suddenly, I heard the shuffling of a pair of feet and a cough. The man had stood up from where he was and was putting on another sweater and a jacket. Was he planning to leave? I hoped so!

He also took with him, with my wide-eyed surprise, a shiny, metal object that he nonchalantly held in his hand. I felt a twisting in my stomach as I recognized the danger I could be in.

The man saw my reaction to what I had just seen and chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he muttered. I expected for him to say something more. To tell me that it was just a toy, but he loaded the gun in front of me, inserting the bullets into the slots.

“What are you going to do!?”

I needed an answer. I needed to hear that he wasn’t going to use it. That hopefully, whoever this man was, he wasn’t a killer who would murder an innocent living creature, human or animal.

Like the first question I had asked earlier, he gave no answer. This frustrated me, but fear clogged my throat. I was much too afraid to say anything else that might make him use the weapon on me.

I felt my hands shaking. What was going to happen to me?

The Bus

He woke with a start, cold sweat running down his forehead. He turned his head and saw that his clock read 2:04 a.m. Jamie felt his heart beating a rapid pace inside. The darkness of the room and the neon green digits that read the time doubled in presence. He felt the glow of the green shine close to him as the clock sat on the surface of his dresser, unmoving and silent, only blinking a different number on the last digit. 2:05 a.m.
Jamie sighed a quiet relief of mystery. It was just a dream. What was the dream? He closed his eyes, the feeling of weariness growing inside him. There was no comfort in the warmth of his blankets; only the cold, empty, and unnerving feeling of something immense that he just couldn’t figure out.
He lay there, keeping still, surrounded by the shadows of his fear, hoping to fall back asleep away from the possibilities of reality.

The sun rose slowly from behind the clouds and mountains. It shone through Jamie’s windows, giving light to the darkness that was. He groaned in annoyance and confusion. The twelve year old boy threw his pillow towards the window in frustration, and squinted as he watched it hit the wall instead.
He slowly got up, taking his time, and muttering words under his breath. He was tired still, and had no luck in falling back to sleep, last night. Whatever he had dreamed about gave him a fright that he couldn’t understand.
After seeing the brightness of the shine of the sun, the fear was long forgotten, replaced with a hunger that needed to be tended to with breakfast.
“Dad,” he said, sitting himself down on the kitchen table.
“Good morning,” was his reply. He was frying eggs and bacon; the usual Friday breakfast. He flipped them over and pressed the spatula on them, making a loud sizzling noise.
Jamie smelled the first aroma of the day, a heavenly waft of food, drifting into his lungs. His stomach made an audible, grumbling noise that brought forth a chuckle from his father. “Hungry, eh?”
His son nodded, sheepishly, running his tongue over his lips as he anticipated and imagined the taste of bacon in his mouth. Jamie’s eyes stared straight at the pan that his father held in one hand as he lifted it over a plate, Jamie’s, and slid an egg and three pieces of bacon on top, along with a slice of toasted bread. “There you go,” said his father, who served the plate on the table in front of his son.
He watched Jamie’s expression turn from hunger to admiration and back to hunger once more.
Jamie tore into the food, swallowing down what he could at a time and gurgling down his glass of orange juice.
“Slow down,” said his father, “Are you okay? You look a little pale?”
Jamie nodded, gulping down the last piece of bacon. “I had a dream last night...” He looked down at his empty plate, staring at the crumbs of the bread he’d consumed.
“And...that’s why you’re so hungry this morning?” His father raised a brow with a smile on the corner of his lips. He shook his head, patting his son’s head and ruffling his hair, going over to the kitchen counter and picking up his hot mug of coffee.

Bonfire

There's a pulsating glow on a fiery warm night
As the sparks fly high
And the flames flicker light
The essence of strength, and love, and hope
Dances brightly with the stars
That have wandered lost in the dark
Heat on the skin
The dryness so clear
A burning sensation of scorching hot fear
Pushed away gently to feel no more
Only a sense of wanting
Just like before
Its reflection on eyes; kind and warm
The same peaceful life mirrored with charm
Like the music of a beating heart;
The lively rhythm of throbbing art
Its brilliant, luminous, blazing presence
That tells a dream
From bright red embers
Still, it's a symbol of chaos and destruction
An inferno of hell
That brings sinners by seduction

Storm

Splish! Splash! Splish! Splash!

The waves crash down on rocks.
So violent.
The sky growls out thunder.
Louder than silent.

And I just keep wondering...

Those nice sunny days

Lawrence’s favorite month was April. He liked that time of the year because he loved to watch the flowers bloom in the trees, on the prairies, in the garden that belonged to his grandmother, and even in the cracks of the sidewalks.

During those nice, sunny days, I would sit with him in the park. Often, I would fall asleep, but Lawrence would just laugh and lean against me and we would be in complete peace and silence.

The silence that we’d have together wouldn’t last long, though. We’d be rudely interrupted by a phone call from his cell phone. His father would be asking where he was and why he wasn’t home yet. Lawrence would look at the ground with a displeased look and I’d just smile politely at me as he spoke into the receiver.

His parents weren’t bad people, at least, not that I knew. But they did seem overprotective over their only child. Lawrence, nor I, saw no need for that. We both knew that he was already sixteen years of age and quite capable of taking care of himself.

After walking my friend home, he’d give me a wistful smile that made me think everything would be okay. But the sounds of booming thumps that came, which were his father’s footsteps, made me think otherwise.

Lawrence would see the worry in my face and he’d reply, “Everything’s fine.”

He was such a laid back person, and that to myself was comforting. He was always the one supporting me, and I wondered who it was that supported him. When I tripped and fell, it was Lawrence who would crouch down to my level and help me up. If I ever forgot my wallet or had no money, he’d pay for my share of what I needed and wouldn’t ask to be paid back.

Lawrence was a kind, but quiet person. He’d have no problem talking to me, but some subjects were off limits, especially about his home life. I’d been to his house once before, but that was when his parents were off in a formal party, hosted by the company of where his father worked.

When I saw Lawrence’s room, it was empty and clean, but still elegant. It seemed as if he never touched his room or did anything in it. I could understand, I suppose, because most of the day, we were in the game room and also outside just sitting by his pool.

His house was pretty huge, but he didn’t like talking about it or anything else like that, that could’ve separated us into two different worlds. His parents both worked for two successful enterprises that made them a lot of money and they apparently had a large amount of expectations for their son.

I was never envious of him, because he always seemed to amaze me.

The pressure that his parents always put on him was heavily intense and yet he still smiled nonchalantly everyday that I saw him. I suppose he knew of who or what he had to live up to, but he knew he couldn’t be perfect.

Lawrence had his own dreams after all, and so only focused on that and anything else that was important to him. If he had to, he’d tell off his parents just to make it his own life and uncontrolled. I do remember one night when he called me at two o’clock in the morning. I picked up the phone and asked what was wrong. At first, there was only silence, and I was thinking of hanging up, but then came Lawrence’s voice, cracked and distraught. “Lawrence, what’s wrong?” I asked, confused, as I rubbed my eyes open. I heard him take a deep breath and exhale a heavy sigh. “I can’t sleep,” I heard him mumble with a waver in his voice.

I kept him up that night; or rather he kept me up. I didn’t understand what had happened but it seemed as if there was conflict in their house. Neither of us got any sleep as we kept awake on the phone, just talking about things that would randomly come to our heads; anything to distract Lawrence from the situation.

It was unhealthy for him to do that; to keep all his anger in and keep himself from expressing any of it, but I wasn’t one to push, so I didn’t pry. I just thought that he should talk about it whenever he wanted to. Besides, he knew that I’d be there to listen. We were the closest of friends after all.

The next day after that night, both of us arrived at school, tired and anxious. He was twitching all day, and I was just grumpy, but whenever our eyes met, we’d smile; he’d be thanking me for whatever good he’d thought I’d done, and I’d assure him that I’d always be there for him.

This would seldom happen though. Lawrence was a pretty self-composed person and he would rarely ever have a breakdown, though the few times that he did, he would only tell or seek support from me.

Usually, when we were trying to make ourselves feel better, we’d go out and stuff our faces with either cheap junk food or the most expensive cuisine in the city. Of course, most of the time, we’d be more into junk food, but Lawrence loved Italian food. He’d insist on us going to his favorite Italian restaurant and ordering all the specialties.

He claimed to know how to speak Italian, himself, but when I insisted that he say something to me in that language, he’d refuse, turning his head away. Sometimes, Lawrence could be shy like that and he hated it, but I only found it cute.

I liked especially when he was being silly. He’d make the funniest jokes and we’d end up laughing all our worries out as we giggled uncontrollably on the grass.

We’d spend most of our times outside, either in the park or exploring some new territory that we could make into our new secret place.

He loved to explore and also finding new things or places. I was one of the only that he’d invite to go adventuring with him and it gave us both excitement.

At the end of the day, Lawrence would be lying, tired, on the ground with eyes closed and breathing hard. I would slowly make my way out of any obstacles that were there and finally catch up to my best friend.

Lawrence was much faster than me and had much more energy. But eventually, we’d both run out and replaced with muscle aches and exhaustion. He’d give it two days or so until he’d call me to go back to that same place we’d been before and make it our own territory. Sometimes, we’d invite our other friends as well and just all hang out there.

Lawrence was, as I knew him to be, a happy and well-fulfilled child.