The first thing I saw when my eyes opened was a bright blue sky. I was laying on my back outdoors somewhere. I sat up and proceeded to immediately threw up all over a patch of daisies. I groaned, my head pounding. The world seemed to be spinning faster than I remembered, so I couldn't exactly tell where I was, and then, everything focused. I was surrounded by vibrant grass and patches of flowers in every color. This threw me because I had no idea how I'd gotten here and I think I'd remember coming to a meadow this beautiful. I took a deep breath to center myself. I needed to retrace my steps, so I thought back and tried to remember, where had I been before this? Doing this made me realize something that only this situation worse. I didn’t seem to remember my name, who I was, or even where I'd come from. The only thing I vaguely remembered was a blur. It was like it was just at the tip of my fingers, but I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. A school?
I glanced down at myself to see if that sparked anything. White sandals, a blue sundress, and... Was that bullet wound? Right above the dresses neckline was a star-shaped, circular scar that was a few shades lighter than my skin tone. What did I do that could go and get me shot?
“What the Hell is going on here!” I cried, grabbing my head, closing my eyes tightly, as I trembled with fear.
“Please calm down miss, you’ll scare the mice.” A calm voice said, causing me to turn. A girl stood behind me. She looked to be a few years older, her dress like a slightly more modern version of a pilgrim’s. She wore a hat akin to a witch's, pointed and it sat straight upon her dark amber hair. The thing was, she had only one large brown eye in the middle of her face.
Upon seeing this, I screamed. The girl just stared at me, looking tired, until I stopped, clearly seemed used to this kind of response.
“My name is Clarity. Please call me Claire. Now, if you’ll come right this way.” Claire began walking down a path, which made me notice a large jar, about the size of a backpack, strapped to her back. It was filled with what looked like mist, some of it a deep black and some of it a light gray or white. My brain was telling me not to, but I slowly rose to my feet and slowly followed after Clarity.
“Where am I? What’s my name? Why can’t I remember anything? What’s with the jar? Wh-?” I kept spewing out questions like a broken faucet until the girl sighed and cut me off.
“You’re in purgatory, the place between Heaven and Hell. Your memories, have all have been wiped, except your death.” Claire stated. “If you just think and remember.”
“Wait, I’m dead? What are you talking... about?” I trailed off as it all came back to me. I had been in my fifth period, my Calculus class, when there had been gunshots outside the hall. We all panicked. A man with a large automatic gun kicked down the door and began firing. Most of us made it to safety behind desks. I hadn't been so lucky.
“No. No, no, no, no, no!” I muttered, clutching my head, walking backward, away from Clarity. “This isn’t real! It CANNOT be real!”
“Unfortunately.” Clarity grumbled, clearly irritated, probably with me, but it also seemed like a little more than that. “So, you’re now a lost angel, as we call ourselves around here. Also known as Angeli Perdeti, if you prefer Latin."
"This is a joke, right? Some sort of sick prank?" I burst out as I started to laugh hysterically. "Maybe, it's a dream! Yeah, that's it. I'm just asleep and as soon as I wake up, I'll be home again!" I kept rambling as I laughed, trying to find the logic in this whole situation until Clarity slapped me. Hard.
"Get it together girl. It's hard to deal with, but you're dead. I'm dead. Every creature and person you might meet here? Dead." She looked at me with her one big eye almost sadly. "It's best if you come to terms with it now so you can move on with your afterlife. Now, follow me. We need to get you a holding jar, so you can start collecting." She turned back around and started walking again. This time, I just stood in place, too overwhelmed to even follow her.
"What? Collecting? Are you nuts?" I asked her, throwing my hands up, my voice slowly rising to almost a scream. "This is impossible! None of this can be real! Even if it was, what could I possibly be collecting in this place? TULIPS? PANSIES?" I gestured wildly to the flowers around us. When Claire answered the question, she didn't turn around, stop walking, or even slow her pace. She just answered with a steady voice and an even tone.
"What are we collecting? Forgotten and dark souls, of course. What else?"
All I want for Christmas.
When I'm flustered or embarrassed, I cover my face being I'm feeling so many emotions, most of them centering around said embarrassment. I want to hide and make everyone forget what happened. Just get me one of those camera things from Men in Black, please. It would change my life and save my ass. Awkward conversation FLASH! Erased. Said something rude that you didn't mean to say? FLASH! Erased. Greatest. Gift. Ever.
So, y'all know what I want for Christmas this year.
My 3 AM, No-Sleep Thoughts
Okay, so I have a few things to say.
1) All mermaids have six-packs because they literally swim dolphin kick, ALL THE TIME.
2) There are days when you just need to lay down in bed and read shoujo manga.
3) THE EMOS CAN READ ROMANCE NOVELS TOO SO STOP JUDGING ME
4) It’s lowkey always sad boi hours.
Want Coffee with That Gucci?
“It was an accident! I promise,-!” I was cut off as I was slapped across the face. My stepmother, Kristen glared at me, seething.
“Shut your mouth, you DISGUSTING mongrel!” She roared in my face, causing me to wince. “How DARE you even THINK about being around my beautiful girl!”
My stepsister, Fiona was the same age as me, Sixteen years old, but she acted like she was eleven. Kristen had married into my family a year ago and she’d never liked me, even from the start. I guess she wasn’t too fond of hot pink mohawks and weird tattoos. Especially on girls. However, she didn’t scream at me this way around Dad. Instead, she gave me backhanded and passive-aggressive comments, which my dad took as nothing but simple criticisms.
Fiona was just as bad, except she treated me like her servant. Constantly asking me for everything, borrowing my clothes without permission, and anything else you can think of. Thing is, everyone thought she was perfect and popular because she’s SO nice and SO pretty!
Now, back to before. Fiona was watching as her mom ripped me a new one, all because I’d gotten coffee on her daughters’ new clothes. It had been a total accident. We’d both been coming home from hanging out with our friends.
The thing is, there’s this one stone in our walkway that is slightly higher than the rest. I knew this and so did Fiona but I was saying bye to my friends and I wasn’t paying attention. My foot connected with the stone and I tripped. My dark chocolate mocha went flying out of my hand and all over Fiona’s shopping bag.
So, here we are with an angry, thick make-up wearing mother screaming in my face. She paused from her rant, chest heaving, and eyes wild. I was still standing there, cringing and waiting for her to speak. When she inhaled again, the next stream of words were several things about my mother that she shouldn’t have said and that I won’t repeat. Instead, I snapped.
“You don’t know a THING about MY MOTHER!” I snapped, my head snapping up and my back straightening. Kristen stepped back, startled by my retaliation. “I would tell you to stick to the things you know, but honestly? It seems like you don’t know a goddamn thing.” I picked up my fallen coffee cup, which still had some liquid left inside. I turned it over and poured it on her Gucci shoes as I looked her in the eye the whole time.
Kristen looked at me, her mouth wide open.
“How dare you! You little-!”
“Tell someone who cares.” I hissed, stalking back towards the house. “I was trying to get along with you for Dad’s sake, but y’ know what? Not anymore. NO ONE talks to me that way.”
Then, I slammed the door on their coffee-soaked, awe-struck asses.
Loved and Proud
On Prose, I'm very open about my asexuality, as most of you wonderful people support me and are incredibly nice! However, in reality, I'm closeted at home and only out with friends and at school. The time I tried to tell my family, they didn't believe me and that I was labelling myself.
"You just haven't met the right guy yet."
"You're only fifteen, it's too early to label yourself."
I just nodded and smiled like that perfect girl they wanted. The perfect girl I couldn't be. It made me sad to think that they didn't understand, so I decided not to mention being biromantic because I wanted the convorsation to be over.
The next week one of my best friends called me, also a LGBTQ+ member, but they're very out and confident with their sexuality. They said: "Hey, want to come to pride with me? It'll be a lot of fun!" I wanted to so badly, but I wasn't sure how to ask, so I did. My parents said it was fine, under the impression that I was just hanging out with my friend there, which was true.
So, I went. And it was one of the best desicions I'd ever made. It was astonishing how much support there was and how many others like me were there. It gave me hope that one day I could come here completely out and accepted. I know It'll probably be a while and will take time for me to come out again, but honestly, that's fine. I want to be ready when I try again.
So, if you ever doubt yourself or are feeling down, remember you're not the only one. I'm here for you and everyone else because it takes time to be accepted and even longer sometimes to accept yourself. So, just keep you're head up high because you're all perfectly imperfect in your own ways!
And most importantly...
Take My Hand
Irene opened her eyes, groaning. Her head was foggy as she lay in her hospital bed, her meds wearing off. She went to sit up, but her head flared with pain, causing her to groan and clutch her skull. Irene glanced around, gaining her bearings and trying to discern where she was.
She was in a... hospital room? White walls, with that hospital smell. Irene noticed an IV in her arm, dripping some kind of liquid. As the pounding in her head slowly subsided, she noticed her right arm was bandaged completely and that her head and left eye were covered in gauze and bandages as well.
“W-what... what the Hell happened?” Irene muttered, unsure what she was doing here.
“Give yourself a second, you’ll remember momentarily.” A voice said to Irene’s left. She snapped her head around, startled, causing her head to flare in pain again. She cursed as she glanced over.
A teenager, looking about seventeen or sixteen. There weren’t any clues to gender identification that Irene could see. They wore a black hoodie, with tattered gray jeans. Black hair that fell down to their jaw, jagged and messy. Silver eyes sunk deep into deathly pale skin and dark circles under their eyes. However, what really unnerved Irene was the aura and the presence of this person. It’s like they radiated desperation and hopelessness.
Then, it hit her. She’d been at a party and had a little too much to drink. She’d insisted to her friends she was fine to drive home alone. She’d been wrong. Irene had run a red light, getting t-boned by a pick-up truck and tumbling into a ditch. Then,... nothing.
“I almost died!” Irene gasped, grasping at her heart. The person coughed, drawing her attention back. “What? And who are you anyway?”
“About that. You didn’t almost die..., you are two minutes away from being dead. I’m Death and I’ve come to help you move on.” They said, looking Irene in the eye calmly.
“W-what? You’re kidding me, this HAS to be a prank!” Irene had forced a deranged smile on her face as she looked around the room. “Haha, very funny! Joke’s over.”
“It’s not a joke, Ms. O’Brian. Look down.”
Hesitantly, Irene looked down and felt something welling up in her throat, whether it was vomit or a scream she couldn’t tell. She was looking down at her unconscious body, still lying in the hospital bed. The heart monitor beside her body beeped with each heartbeat, each one which could be her least.
“Oh, my God!” Irene couldn’t breathe, she fanned her face, freaked out. “I’m dead! I’m DEAD!”
“Yes, but if you calm down and come with me, you can reincarnate or have yourself tried for the Afterlife.” Death said, blinking and standing up calmly. “All you do is have to take my hand.”
“Are you CRAZY? NO! OF COURSE NOT!” Irene shrieked, reeling back, which made her realize she was floating. “I’M A GHOST?”
“I hate to tell you this, Ms. O’Brian, but if you don’t take my hand in the next fifty seconds, you might be stuck here. Forever.”
“I wasn’t finished. You’d be here forever, unable to speak to anyone, interact with loved ones. You’ll have to watch them fall in love, suffer, and die, slowly moving on past your death.”
Irene went silent.
“However, if you take my hand now. You can see them again in the Afterlife or in another life, but only if you do so now.”
Irene thought. She then slowly reached out and took their hand.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos
Body on body
Corpse on corpse
The bodies rose up
As the kingdom fell down
All at the hands of a swordsman
Smile on smile
Giggle on giggle
The morale rose up
As the kingdom fell down
All because of a wordsmith
Crown on crown
Throne on throne
The people rose up
As the kingdom fell down
All because of a monarch
Sword on sword
Shield on shield
The battle rose up
And the kingdom fought back
All for the hearts of the people
The Soldier stood tall
The Poet spoke loud
The King never bowed down
As the kingdom rose up
All through the hearts of the people