“I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world as me.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

You are the space betwixt

my skin and my heart -

more than a beloved

manuscript on pages,

a borrowed entity

for a brief moment

of gilded time,

the rise and fall

of my chest as

I breathe your essence,

a patch of love

silhouetted against

the midnight sky,

succulent juices, dripping

on my tongue,

gentleness soothing

my sobbing soul,

secret summer days

in sunshine of you,

resounding poetry

sparkling in your eyes,

fragility among

hard bitter surfaces,

as you touch me

while we are

standing apart ,

wings exploring

our world,

tapestry of us

braided together

becoming one.

Weak little girl,

Silence stabs at pain,

Beat to the ground,

Stay quiet and stay down,

They won't care anyway.

Small, delicate angel,

Couldn't wound no one,

Fragile flower; little sun,

But stars burn when they want to hurt,

When they see the light.

A caged bird has no wings,

But everyone can see some way,

By sight; by sound; by touch,

I finally learnt to fly,

I finally learnt to shine.

I stood from the ground,

Kicked through the brick,

Let the light back in,

Saw that I was strong,

Know I can take the weight on.

//Line from the song invincible by Kelly Clarkson\\

Ugly

Fat

Idiotic

Your words echo in my head

Poison slowly feeding

Feeding off my emotions

Leaving nothing

Nothing but pain

Annoying

Attention-seeker

Naive

I only ask

Why

Why do this

Knowing how it feels

Knowing the empty void of tears

Forgettable

Waste of space

Worthless

Why does it

Hurt

So

Much

That's what I think as I clear the dishes, as I grab my purse and head out the door.

I think of secrets when I pass the park where we used to play. All the memories we shared, cherished away from everyone else. Silly things, maybe, but nevertheless we kept them to ourselves as children are wont to do.

I try not to think, but I can't help it. I pass through the gate and the memories wash over me, flood my very cells and carry me away. I can almost see you crouching behind that bush, or maybe swinging from the branches of your favorite tree. I remember hunting for treasure with you. I remember playing by the creek. I miss those times. 

I miss you. 

I wish I had missed what had happened. You never needed to get hurt. But some things will stick with me forever. How could I forget? I can't look at the steep banks of the creek without flinching, no matter how many memories I have of playing happily in the clay. I can't see back to those days past your unseeing eyes, set in your stone-cold face. I'm still standing there on the edge watching you caught eternally in the threads of misunderstanding in the midsummer heat. But then the stillness shattered and so did you. I couldn't move. I can't now.

Once again I'm standing there. I remember they told me it wasn't my fault, that the bank is dangerous, that it easily crumbles, but I knew we played there often and that day the earth was firm and you knew where to stand. 

You were trying to save me. But no one knew that. Maybe in your haste you weren't watching the edge and slipped.

Or maybe, in my anger and confusion, I shoved you away, not expecting you to fall.

Or maybe it wasn't an accident. Maybe there were other things you'd done. Maybe you came to apologize. Maybe I rejected it, rejected you. 

Maybe there even other secrets here, and we were just caught like flies in a spider's web that summer.

All I know is that I stand here, where you've stood, and that soon I'll lie where you did too. 

You got me. I can't take it anymore. Because no matter how I try to push away the memory of you, I know that you linger just out of sight. I know that if I but turn my head, you'll be there. Haunting me. 

...

The line is from the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson. This is my first time really writing flash fiction or whatever this is, so any feedback is welcome!

The depths of the Inferno harbored many foul residents within its charcoal covered cities. Not just the souls enslaved and tormented but the demons who dwell on the granite and brimstone. Scriptures would say that the demons are vile beasts that feast off the flesh and bone of those imprisoned and forgotten by the Creator. Not the case for these denizens of the dark, for they share many roles and lives as humans, with the exception of some of their more monstrous appearances. They work, they lounge, and they party like all the rest. Their children, all of various age, attend schools for better education and knowledge of the ever growing universe. Yet there are few of these children granted with the gift of sorcery, to which they are offered the grand opportunity to be taught under the great mystics of the Inferno. 

With all the demon spawn that are chosen to train under powerful magic wielders even fewer were hand selected by the all-powerful sorcerer supreme, the ancient adviser of the devil, Legion. In his decrepit, six-fingered hand he carried a dying, wooden staff. He wore black garments that covered much of his insectoid body, a towering papal tiara on his round head, and a ragged scarf hid his face except for three pairs of black spider-like eyes. Those three pairs watched over his latest and most promising student. A small demon boy with red skin, pointy ears, and a messy patch of spiky, black hair, and a long, pointed-tip, serpentine tail. He also wore clothing that were every human from his blue jeans to his red-orange hoodie.

This boy, Dominic, one of the many sons of Moloch, practiced his magic with fireballs outside the home of the ancient spellbinder. The great arachnid's hut was crafted inside the trunk of dying tree, its bark made from the same wood as his staff. The fruit had long rotted off and the leaves have long since fallen and withered away.

For his lesson, Legion had instructed his pupil to hit various targets with his fire projections. Small green fireballs shot out of Dominic's three-fingered hands and he pitched them at the targets like a baseball. He threw one, then a second, then two at a time, followed by a fire blast that engulfed the whole target. Dominic smiled at his perfected performance and hoped that his master would acknowledge his improvement. 

"Your form has improved," The ancient demon commented. "But what of your fire art? Have you been practicing that?"

"Yessir." Dominic replied. "Everyday."

"Show me!"

Dominic took in a deep breath and exhaled out a stream of green fire. He then pictured the image he wanted to craft in his mind. Legion watched as his apprentice stroked the air like a painter brushing his artwork. With each gentle motion of the boy's hands the emerald blaze moved with him. The fire spiraled around and then his art came to form.

"Not bad," The old demon bellowed, carefully studying his student's work. "But you seem distracted."

Dominic looked back to his fire then gulped of what his teacher had noted. The fire he had outlined was in the form of a human girl, looking about his age, with the smoke that represented her black hair and beanie, and was even sure to detail that some of the smoke covered a portion of the girl's right eye. Dominic swiftly waved his arms out, which extinguished his art into a fading cloud of smoke. But his master had already recognized the model, much to Dominic's embarrassment.

"You still need focus, boy." Legion reminded his pupil, tapping on his spiky head with the end of his staff. "But for now let us move on to the next lesson: levitation."

"I can lift some small things," Dominic said.

"So I've noticed before, but now we'll move onto something more advanced." As Legion slowly raised his six-fingered hand into the air, three statues, all the etched into great demonic creatures, ruptured through the sulfuric earth. They became air born after being summoned from their earthly slumber. With a final wave of Legion's hand the statues dropped before his surprised pupil. "Lift these."

Dominic nervously stared at the statues. "But they're too big." He gulped.

"Only in your mind," His master gravely reminded him. "Concentrate. Clear your thoughts. Then lift them."

Dominic took a deep breath and focused on the three monstrous statues. He closed his eyes, focusing only on the statues. It was no different than levitating a ball or book. These were just much bigger, bigger than him and his master for that matter. Dominic held out his arms at the three statues. Each of his three fingers were spread out into obtuse shapes. He felt a connection between him and the statues. All he needed to do was lift with his mind.

The statues vibrated eccentrically. Chunks of dirt cleaned of their curves and edges the more Dominic focused on them. Dominic figured he they were lifting. His head flooded with thoughts of graduating to become a powerful, demon sorcerer and a date with a certain black-haired, beanie wearing, human girl at the success of mastering levitation. Dominic peaked one eye open but discovered that the statues only rocked around yet did not float in the air. 

He concentrated harder, then harder. His brows were soaked with his sweat. His sharp teeth ground against one another. Thoughts of achievement faded behind delusions of being disowned by his family and humiliated. He then dropped down to the floor after the statues wouldn't budge for the final time. 

"I can't do it!" Dominic pouted irately. "What you ask is impossible. I'm just not good enough. I'll never be good enough!"

Legion stared sternly at the young imp, who sat there with a tear dripping off his cheek. His old spider-like limbs crept him over to where he was. One of his six, skeletal fingers arched the demon boy's chin up, making sure that the boy's sad, hollow eyes were locked onto each of his six eyes.

"Impossible?" The old master grumbled. "The task is impossible because you deem it so. You believe yourself as unready or not good enough, and so your actions in the matter will follow. If you continue to see yourself as a failure then that is the only result you receive. Life will always keep you unprepared. It is up to you how you adapt to the situation. Now rid yourself of those tears. You know they won't serve you in my lessons. Concentrate, clear your mind, and lift them."

Dominic wiped off his last tear with his sleeve and picked himself off the ground. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll try."

"No!" Legion retorted fiercely. His old staff slammed against the ground, which cause his apprentice to jump. "Don't try. Only do. Trying will only give you the same results. Doing will give better solutions."

Looking back at the three statues, Dominic cleared his thoughts once more. Like before he held out his arms, thinking only about levitating them. His teacher stepped aside and waited for results. Dominic concentrated harder and harder than before. The stone statues all rumbled again. The connection between him and the three stones rose up inside like a hungry fire. Legion watched as the statues proceeded to slowly levitate a few feet off the ground then drop suddenly back to their spots. Dominic opened his eyes, now a more confident spellbinder. He looked to his teacher and eagerly awaited his comments.

"Your form needs work." The old demon grumbled. Dominic smiled at his criticism, knowing that is the best form of compliment that he'll get out of his stern teacher. 

"Angelie, 

Wake up, 

Don't sleep too long

You have three projects due

Your writing is useless 

Please just focus

Angelie, 

I love you

Even if no one else does

I love you and it's my duty

To take care of you

Without me here

To guide you, 

You'd be helpless.

Angelie, 

Don't feel so alone

I'm always here

In your head

Your best friend

Angelie, 

I'm not a parasite

I'm not a voice in your head

We're just having a normal conversation, 

You and I, 

You and your ole Conscience

Angelie, 

Don't write about me

Can't I be our secret

People shouldn't know about me

They'd think you're crazy

You're not crazy

You can't help it

Angelie, 

Don't worry, 

I'll always be here

For you."

(The line is from Atrophy by The Antlers; you should check it out sometime)

Fiddle-dee-dee. Fun for men, you mean!

That's what Scarlett O'Hara had said, but Eddie wasn't having any fun at the moment.

His new bride of only seven weeks was having a hissy-fit unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life and he was totally flummoxed. During the three years of their courtship, she had never shown any signs of anything other than docility and delicateness.

"Are you paying attention to me?!" She yelled, causing him to jump. Before he could answer, a red shoe of some sort whizzed by his head, just missing his lengthy brown sideburns. "I TOLD you I wanted to go to the movies tonight and now you're telling me you have to WORK?!" Her not so delicate hand launched another shoe, this one blue, in his direction. He ducked and attempted to calm her down. Looking deep into her sky blue eyes with his own hazel orbs, he softly responded.

"Now, darling-"

"I am NOT your damn darling!"

Taken aback, he tried again. "Sweetheart-"

"My name is Annabeth," she growled through clenched teeth.

"Right...Annabeth. We just returned from our honeymoon last week and I simply must go in. We're trying to win this big account and think of all the movies you could see when I get the bonus!...Hell, we could even build a theater onto the house, if you'd like."

"I don't care!" She pouted, her pink lips turned almost comically downward.

"Hon- Annabeth. Please. After being gone all that time, Mr. Reynolds really needs me when we present our idea to the client. You KNOW I wouldn't leave you if I didn't have to!"

Silence.

"Ann," he continued, "Surely you have to know that I'd much rather be home with you...doing what we did in the Philippines." He smiled, endearingly. She didn't.

"No, I don't know that. I don't know WHY it has to be tonight. Don't these men have lives?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"And as for what we did in the Philippines, THAT won't be happening again for a long time!"

Marriage, fun? Eddie cried.

It was the kiss.

Or maybe it was the feather-light touch before.

Whatever it was, it got her out of her dress.

His shirt toppled to the ground.

And you sat there watching,

accidentally,

wrong place, wrong time

wondering why life had to play its cards so fucked up.

©SelfTitled, 2017

My body fit perfectly in yours,

we would intertwine ourselves

and always end up

the same as the night before.

My fingers remember every curve of your

body,

and the taste of your molars will permanently remain

on my tongue.

My hipbone knows the cushion of your

thighs,

and my arms will always search for your

body

between them.

And now I lay,

here for days

The dirt ingrained into my

bloodstream.

The trees above provide the only comfort

I know now.

This was the last place I saw you,

The last time I held you.

Now, my arms wrap around my legs

as I fold in half

in complete

misery.

Curled up, tight, alone.

A mangled mess of a man

I bathe in the blood

you've left behind

because after you died,

everything around me is constantly damp.

From your blood, from my tears,

from the rain that drips down

from the canopy above.

There is no more

You

&

I.

I lay here and slowly

I become part of the earth.

***********

Title is a line from the song "Thirteen" by La Dispute.