“Bianca” the voice called out “Stop, mother said keep it down”.

Not being able to play her music as loud as she normally would to block it out, she stares at the Vinyl records and pretend to hear them, but it doesn’t work.

“Mother is a liar”

”Stop”

”Mother is a snake”

“Stop, please”

She sits in a corner of the room rocking herself.

Flashbacks begin to play in her head, flashbacks that are not her own.

A cry fills the halls of the house bouncing from room to room.

“Hello beautiful, don’t cry, Bianca shall be your name, a pure soul like yours, your name shall define you Anima Bianca.”

Bianca meaning white in Italian, a color you picture on Angel robes and something Holy but what came next was nothing of the sort but the complete opposite.

Doors began to open and shut, windows slamming, shattering the glass and stomping throughout the house, something familiar to Bianca.

The Midwife begins to scream “Diavolo! Anima Nera” she then grabs a scalpel and butchers the mother on the bed and slits the throat of the Doctor delivering the baby.

Bianca knowing by now she is looking through the eyes of her father she is screaming in his head “Nooooo” as she witnesses the murder of her true mother and the doctor that had delivered her, the father screams as well, while grabbing his head, frozen in place, shocked of what is happening.

The Midwife then begins to cry as she stares at the baby in the bed who had exited the womb and knowing she couldn’t bring herself to harming the child, she drops the scalpel.

Anima Nera, she says again..which meant black soul in Italian, then grabs the baby and hands him over to the father.

“Anima Nera shall be your name”

The house goes quiet the doors and windows stopped slamming, the stomping silenced and all you can hear was the blood dripping from the blankets where her mother laid dead, against the pool of blood on the floor.

She looks at the midwife realizing she is the one she calls mother for the past 18 years of her life, and then she stares at herself through the eyes of her father and then her sister.

She then finds herself back in her room, no longer rocking herself but smiling to herself…

“Anima Nera?”

She asks sitting across a girl that looks just like her.

Meanwhile Mother and the Guest

“How is she?”

“She is perfectly healthy but still will not say a word”

“Well she did kill her father at 5, that would damage any kid”

“I Thought it was suicide?”

“She made him take his life, just like she made me kill her mother and doctor, she’s evil, her father was never the same since that night”

“Yes, i know, I’ve hid her for 16 years at 18 I’m not sure I can keep hiding her”

“In a church with your beliefs is the best place for her…”

“where is she now”

“Waiting in the car, I thought it would be time to come clean and tell her about her sister, I’m too old and my brother would have took his life long ago if it wasn’t for you, so thanks to you he continued to live after the death of his wife…I’m sure she would understand that you been protecting her all this time”

“so glad, I called you that day”

Back in Bianca’s Room

“It was always you Bianca you killed Mother the Doctor and you would have killed me, if father wouldn’t had stopped you, he had our gift as well”

“No...it can’t be”

“That’s why I showed you what happened only father and you could see what happened...it wasn’t father’s eyes you saw through but your own, your jealousy, you would not share father with me or mom”

“I don’t believe you”

“That lying lady you call mother blamed me because of you...you put those thoughts in her head...you fed her those lies and father believed it..after 2 years of hating me he finally gave me to his brother the priest…telling him to cure my black soul and told you I died…”

“why are you doing this...why?...I don’t believe it”

Once again she finds herself in a flashback

She watches her Father as he sits in his office in tears and watches as her younger self walks in.

“Daddy why are you crying”

“Sorry Bianca.. just missing your mommy and sister, I’m so sorry they are not here with us to watch you grow, I was to weak and cursed her with something you will never understand”

“Daddy.....you got me”

“sorry”

“Yes daddy...I’m sorry too”

As she forces him to put the gun to his head

He makes no attempt at stopping her because at that point he realized, Bianca was the Anima Nera.

“Sorry daddy, I should have been enough”

Back at the room

“you made yourself forget Bianca, but I won’t let you and that’s why I have always visited you, slam your doors stomp your floors, flicker your lights but I’m done playing games, time to pay, for mom....for dad”

“No...no...no…”

“PULL THE TRIGGER!!!”

A loud bang is heard echoing around the house and the room door swings open and the Priest and Mother stare into the room with Bianca laying on the floor with a bullet to the head and a gun in her hand.

“Anima Nera!”

“Hello,....Mother.”

Who is he? What is he is? Is he a God or a Human being, his knowledge is of many wise men, his thoughts expand daily, he is as great as the Gods of Greek, Nordic, Celtic Mythology or even the prophets of the Bible, at times his suffering is shown in paper but his physical shows no signs of it, solid as a rock he stands untouched, unharmed, he is the Poet.

The poet a great being known to mankind throughout the world, the Poet sees what others can’t see, feels what others can’t feel and express in writing what others dare not

Every Poet whether Man or Woman unique, original in their own way, friend or foe fear the Poet, they do not understand him or his ways, they find him strange and evil, something, not of God, the Poet is not affected by this, the Poet lives for himself and shall die by himself, even if surrounded by many, still alone, because of his thoughts, ideas, his view on life and a vision to see more than the eyes can see, the poet seems to be sensitive, dark, mysterious or even full of charm, his person of being changes instantly he is unpredictable, considered at times dangerous to those mislead by his writing but if you dare ask this Poet what Genre he prefers when he writes..his answer would be..., Fiction

Fiction the one place you have control and where a happy ending..., is up to you.

Every night she sneaks out of bed

Into his room she would go

Right at the door I stared right in

As she laid in a fetal position

In his tiny bed reading a goodnight story

Followed by a poem she wrote

In tears I listen

Mommy’s here, where are you?

Peek a boo, I don’t see you

You giggle, I laugh

Hide and seek, I can’t find you

Hearing the tapping of your feet

Mommy’s here, where are you?

Peek a boo, I see you

You giggle, I laugh

Hide and seek, I found you

Tapping of your feet running

Away screaming, “again!”

Mommy’s here, where are you?

You have his name, you have his eyes

You have his chin, so don’t cry

She whispers the last part to herself

where are you?

Is what he ask every night

A picture in hand

Mommy’s here…..but where is dad?

I wish I could hold her, God knows I’ve tried

I wish I could tell him, he does have my eyes

I wish I could have laid in that tiny bed

Smell his pillow, kiss his head

Watching over you both I send you a sign

A chill down your Spine,hairs behind your neck rise

As he points at the door saying, Daddy and smiles.

I thank God first before anything in my life, then my parents, wife and kids, family and then everyone and everything that molded me to the person I am today.

I’m thankful for the way I grew up, the stuff I didn’t have and the stuff I went through and the things I still go through, because if it wasn’t for me growing up so poor I wouldn’t appreciate the little things I have now, if it wasn’t for all the death I was surrounded by I would not appreciate life, I’m thankful for my kids and thankful that they have way more than I did growing up, that they didn’t pass a night hungry, that although they don’t have the finest things in life they have the things they need in it, I’m thankful for the people that judged me growing up and would always say I would not amount to nothing, proving them wrong was my motivation, I’m thankful for the family members that didn’t let their kids mix with me and my siblings and saw us or me as a black sheep because it pushed me to try harder to better myself to who I am today, I’m thankful for all those cops that looked and treated me like crap even when I was not doing bad, thank you, because something had to change.

I wake up in pain and go to sleep in pain sometimes but I’m thankful I wake up that morning, this morning, I’m thankful, I’m thankful for my job, I’m thankful for life and the people I’ve met over the years and the ones I continue to meet, I’m thankful for my anxiety because the days I don’t have it, it is another good day I’m thankful for.

I’m Thankful for all the great people in my life that I have been lucky to have met, whether they are family or friends from my past, present or soon to come.

I’m thankful for Prose and everyone in it, thankful for the comments and likes, I’m thankful for all those that share their poems,stories and lives, as well as allow me to share mine.

Thank you & Happy Thanksgiving, life is good.

Awaken to an unbearable stench, a stench so awful that will give you nosebleeds and make every hair on your body stand, a heat so intense that makes your skin get soft as if about to melt…what is this feeling, where am I, where am I going, walking in pitch darkness, with every step hesitant to whether there is a floor, reaching for a wall.

I begin to feel something crawling up my legs, penetrating through my skin and crawling from within, causing extreme pain but I dare not scream in fear of deep down knowing, where I am, knowing it can only get worse, I reach a loud sound of a door opening creating light slowly, a door so tall that you cannot see where it ends, upon opening fully different sounds fill my ears, brings me to tears, the shouting, Shouting of voices, so many shouting, so loud...one after another, one on top of the other, making It hard to understand what they are saying, I walk until the door closes behind me, the light is brought from the flames, surrounded by fire I am, the crawling on my legs got higher and as I look down,I see maggots cover my skin like a layer of clothing, I brush them off screaming in pain, I then notice my skin melting away, like a plastic spoon I would burn from the tip as a kid to watch it drip.

Now I can see others around me, so many, some down to bones but yet crying and screaming in pain, the itch, this itch which at every attempt of scratching removes my skin, I saw no end to the flames, the people, I close my eyes screaming, why! why! why!

I awake to my wife shaking me in my bed

“Are you ok, you were screaming”

“It was just a nightmare babe, lets go back to sleep, I’ll tell you in the morning”

“K, but before you go back to sleep can you check where that burning smell is coming from”

When you’re asleep, I’m with her

When you’re at work, I’m with her

If you only knew the days I call out sick

I wait until everyone leaves and take her out

When I’m done, I stare at the walls in a blank

Wishing you were enough

Hating myself because you’re not.

I know you had your suspicions

So when you push the door with force

Ready to start screaming, you see me there

And with tears in your eyes, you walk to me

As I smile at you with a blank look in my face

You see her, in the bed she laid

Right where I left her, she had done her job

Like while you sleep I sneak her out

When I call out from work and everyone leaves

Home alone with no worries, out in the open

I take her out my bag and she takes me far away

As I press her slowly into my veins

I stared right back at the wall

You screamed and cried without words

Smacks to my face, your lips and arms moving

Nothing they say, I hear nothing and feel no pain

I Smile at you, then stare back at the wall

Hoping this high doesn’t go away

Many years have passed and with her I still remain

Gone through most my veins

With a Stink of piss and shit I’ve lost all shame

The streets my home, I beg for her, with a cup

Telling stories I’ve made up, hoping I get enough

Hoping someone gives a buck

I hate school days, I have to get up early

I pick out his clothes and get him dressed

Take out his cereal, pack him a sandwich

And walk with him to school

I pick him up, then we walk home together

When I’m home I help him with his homework

I make something simple to eat

He complains about his classmates

How they tease him and call him names

It breaks my heart so I pinky promise it will stop

The following day I sit in the principal’s office

I beat his bully pretty bad

Cops were brought in, to scare me

I’m only eight I know they won’t arrest me

They ask for my dad, I say he’s at home

They ask for my mom, I said she died

They stared at each other and talk very low

Then they tell me someone will escort me home

Quickly I respond with, well let me get my brother

He’s only six and if I leave now

Another bully will pick on him

They pick on him and call him names

Since mommy died he barely bathes

His hair in knots, his clothes are dirty

He cries often, begging mommy come back

I tuck him in and tell him pray and have no fear

Since she’s an Angel she will hear

I leave his room and go see dad

He’s asleep in the couch

With pictures of mommy and a bottle

He stinks of sweat, beer and vomit

That’s my everyday so please

Let me take my brother.

It's funny to think one man changed the world. I write today just to write as I sit here reading what all of you wrote on the great Stan Lee.

I usually don't bother with movie stars, comedians and musicians passing. It's more like "eh" sad, but it’s not like they were family...I lost a lot of friends growing up, maybe that's the reason...a lot of them didn't see 21...which I thought I would not see as well, old age, what the hell is that in the hood. So today I sit here reading and Yea I'll say it again it's funny to think I reached my 40s and he might have had a part...well my mother's prayers as well...as she would break night by the window praying to God I didn't get killed and make my way back home and off to work she would go with no sleep, it sucks. Thanks to comics they steered me a bit off although I still got involved in a lot of crap there was those days I picked up a comic and stood home those days I picked up a comic and drew my favorite hero or villain, like Bullseye, spiderman, hulk etc...I liked Daredevil a lot, the idea was amazing like a hero version of Zatoichi the blind swordsman...but Yea I have Stan Lee to thank, open or closed caskets friends, family passing when I wanted to give a break to the madness life was, at times I would read one, no matter which one it was....whether it was the avengers, x-men or something else I'm not saying I stuck to Marvel, I cheated on him with DC, Darkhorse, TopCow and Image, maybe even Vertigo...but yea he was great. He changed the world, Thank you Stan Lee. We sit here reading or writing from so many different backgrounds but all talking about, that one great man that helped us during hard times, helped us escape or just for a quick read, The man who was the face of something so great...it’s crazy, it took me reading what you guys wrote on here...so Thank you.

To all those that wrote about him and sparked something in me to see how he changed so many lives, in so many different ways Thank you.

Just me thinking out loud.....

It was a beautiful morning today, I woke up just like every other day. The kids jumping on the bed, my wife telling me to go wash my mouth because she had already taken out my coffee, and it would get cold. I said a prayer and did as she said, I drank my coffee and then jumped into the shower. When I got out, my wife and kids were gone, the house was quiet. I got dressed and took a long pause, looked around and kissed the pictures of my wife and kids, as if it were my last goodbye.

I rushed out the house to the train station, I to make a certain train at a certain time and as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs I saw someone holding the door to let me in, I was happy and surprised at the act and as the conductor complained over the loudspeaker for him to let the doors go, I thanked him.

Surprised to see a seat available I sat without a thought.

“Hey sir"

"Why hello young man, what are you doing here? All on your own…." An expression

of confusion on his face.

“My Father sent me”

"I have a boy about your age and I would never let him ride a train on his own.

Why don’t you get off on the next stop and call him to pick you up?"

“It’s fine sir, He sends me out on my own all the time, I meet so many different people, from so many different places”

"I wish I had ran into you on a different day I would’ve had words with your dad."

“You can call him if you like”

"No kid it’s ok, I guess it’s none of my business"

“My Father said today I should bring home many friends”

"What does your Father do?"

“He sits at home and sends his men out to do work for him and makes sure everything goes accordingly to his plan”

"Just like he sent you out on your own…"

The kid giggles," Yea I guess”

"You know I have no time…. kid what’s your stop?"

“Union Square”

"K....that’s mine as well but…"

“9:10 Father said to meet with everyone and bring them home”

"Why don’t you get off a stop earlier and call a cop so they can talk to your Father?"

“Sir, you said you have a boy around my age, I can’t wait to meet him today”

"Huh...what...anyways, Yes, I do and one a bit younger...ok kid please get off on this stop it’s one before Union Square and there you can call or look for a cop and tell them what you told me"

“9:08, two minutes and I’m going to introduce them to Father”

"Come boy I’ve had enough" He grabs the boy by the arm and walks out with him, the doors closing behind him.

"Damn it boy...you have no idea...you made me miss my 9:10 appointment"

“9:09 Sir, hey is that your boys with their mommy?”

As the train leaves the station the man notices his wife and kids in the car that followed the train car he was in.

"Yes…", he said and tears began to roll down his face out of the shock of seeing them.

"9:10, Fathers calling me, I guess I won’t be bringing anyone home, He’s going to be so happy”

"I can’t believe it, what was she doing in that train and how did you know that was my family boy..." As he turns around he doesn’t see the boy anywhere on the station.

He then reaches for his phone and makes a call to his wife.

"Did you just get off the train?"

“Yes, I did, the kids had an appointment today, the train took forever and then it stood at our station for a bit and the conductor called out on someone for holding doors...Hey, are you crying”

"No….", as he wipes his tears from his eyes,

"I’ll come meet you guys"

“Yes, sure please do, the kids will be excited, we’ll be upstairs in pediatrics”

"Yes of course…"

“That’s him Officers, he was talking to himself the whole train ride, I followed him out because he looked suspicious and that was when he reached for his phone and I saw it.”

Cops then surround the man screaming,

“Sir! put down the cell, remove the vest, rest the bag on the ground and lay flat on the floor...NOW!”

I do as he says, and remove the vest. I then put the bag down and place my phone on top of it.

Quietly to myself, I thanked the boy that saved my family and all those innocent lives.

The Officers then called for backup on the radio, “We are going to need the bomb squad here, now!”

So who am I but just a person who grew up around violence, who would settle for sweet silence but not familiar with it. Lost so much in life and feeling not worthy of the things I was given, so on Winter nights, ink to paper, a pen dances in silence creating thoughts into words while sipping on Brandi, 333 shots to date but on this night, for winter warmth. Feeling too old to care on how late it is, In love with words, I sit and write in a dark room with barely light, under me you will be and above all, I shall stand, my soul rebel to life, I fight it to live and promise from living never quit.