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Short Story Entry #1:

Simple Drug

It was just those things he dreamed about.

They were simple, small, wistful little words that never actually passed the border of his lips. They rested on the tip of his tongue; and more than anything they wanted to push out beyond what felt like a thin barrier. It was true- the flesh that remained closed when they wanted to sing were only too small compared to the things that wanted to spill forth.

Even when he didn't mean to thoughts somehow entangled themselves in something that was totally unrelated- them. Well, him. Him. The thoughts had first settled in hostile territory, bubbling and being thrashed around until it was considered to be untrue. As time passed on, though, the thoughts and feeling resurfaced and howled at him like some ungoddishly lonely creature from Hell.

And now, he was more than clearly what he believed those tea-drinking people called whipped.

He almost felt like a stalker, really- always thinking. Even if it was a completely unrelated subject their name was there or something that had happened between them. WAS he a stalker? Was he turning into one of those insane people that wandered around on the street? Obsess over a person strait up until he finally snapped and did something that only an insane person would do?

But then, the thought of inflicting any type of harm on him seemed absolutely unbearable. Did that prove that he wasn't crazy? ...But then why was he always thinking about him even when the situation didn't call for it or was completely unrelated!?

If anything, THAT by itself was enough to drive him insane and into one of those jackets with the straps on them. Thinking about him brought about a calm in him that he'd never really felt before. Not until then. But at the same time, he felt so painfully gleeful that he was sure his insides would rupture. Why couldn't things like these be strait forward and simple instead of insanely complicated and make NO sense whatsoever?

At the same time, though, it almost felt like his feelings didn't matter. After all, as long as He was happy, did it really matter how he felt? It wasn't that he didn't want him to be his or the other way around, but in the end it was the person he cared about that mattered. His feelings condemned him in the same moment that they freed him. Even though his heart seemed to grow stronger at the smallest mention of the other's name it also faltered and the feeling could only be described as... well, maybe emotional bleeding.

He'd always been so clever and hell, he wasn't about to deny that he could be a jerk sometimes just for the fun of it. So these things were absolutely and mortifyingly misplaced. They shouldn't be there, they shouldn't exist- aside from the fact that just a single, SINGLE person was tearing him apart with such a level of emotional pain that was so powerful that his bones ached- it was a guy. A man. A male. Why couldn't he have been a she?

It was selfish to think these thoughts, though, and he knew it. This entire thing seemed ludicrous to him but no matter how much he tried the feelings refused to dissipate or fade. To be away meant a strong loneliness, but in the same gesture being close by might have been even worse. Because despite how overpowering they were, he could never say anything.

Because it simply... was not meant to exist.

The words hurt and burned, because they weren't simply by themselves but they had been smashed into the feelings and created some sort of an invisible acid that licked away and burned holes into his self. Sometimes he wondered if speaking would help. Alleviate the pain. It didn't seem like anything would, though; except for a mirror of his feelings appearing from Him. Not the exact same- different, but loving....

Ah, here he was, getting so self-absorbed again. But he just couldn't help it. These things floated inside of his mind whether or not he wanted them to and even when he banished them they returned. It was a simple and brutal cycle that he was sure would kill him. After everything that he had gone through, it would be this that would kill him.

It almost felt worth it. Maybe it was worth it- just to love them so much that he figured tearing himself apart would be little sacrifice if it was for the other's needs. But the feelings would never be returned, because they weren't there. It just didn't exist. It existed in him. Its beauty and pain was more than enough for him to know. But in the other, there was nothing even close.

Now all of those things that he'd heard made sense. Except in his case, everything was one-sided. There was no one to share it with, and the feelings, in all of their glory and warmth, was so, so bitterly cold.

He didn't want the feelings to die because then it would mean that everything would have meant nothing. Meaningless. And He was not meaningless. But what was all of this? The word that had been punctured onto the feelings felt too damn small. Across cultures the word to describe was always so... tiny. It needed to be bigger. But then, maybe it was supposed to be that way.

It really was something so simple. He loved him. It was the attachments that made it unbearable.

So the tears would come, drip to the floor and ultimately be absolutely meaningless. Physics stated that when something pushed against something else that "something else" exerted a force equal to what was being pushed against it. Why was it that this couldn't work in the same way?

To love something- no, someone- that was indescribably... everything to him seemed... he didn't even know. There were things that words and pictures could only begin to skim across. Nothing could ever begin to pierce such a thing like this.

To love someone that was indescribably something to him. Only so many words could be crammed into a single sentence. To love something that would never love back, though....

It was more brutal and wonderful than anything he could have ever imagined.

Poetry
first entry


The Beating In My Chest

What is this thing inside me?
Beating in my chest?
It keeps me alive, but causes me so much pain
I want to rip it out.
It beats a rhythm like music,
but all I hear is the ticking of a clock,
waiting for its time to run out.
When I listen to it thump, and feel it in my chest,
I have an urge to protect it.
But at the same time, all I want is for it to be gone,
so I no longer have to bare its burden.
It’s easy to break
and takes time to repair.
It’s so completely simple,
yet at the same time, too confusing to understand.
What is this thing inside me?
Beating in my chest?
It’s my life source, but it’s more than that.
It’s me. It’s my present. It’s my past. It’s my future.
It’s everything about me…everything I am.
It beats - and I live.
It stops – and I die.
It’s my heart…my life source, and my life.

short story
entry 2

Death Story

With each kick of my leg, it felt like another ten pound weight was being put on it. My lungs hurt more and more with each breath I took. I reached out, trying desperately to grab onto anything I could. I could feel my muscles starting to lock up, and my struggling became weaker and weaker…I had worked so hard, but now it was time to give up. I could no longer take in my breath. My muscles had stopped working. My body felt like it was a 700 pound weight that was slowly dragging me to my death. It was icy cold and I wondered if I should take one last breath, but decided that would just prolong my suffering. I slowly forced my hands to let go of the snow around me, and my head began to sink under the frigid water.

I reached out and grabbed her hand just as it began to disappear under the water. I pulled her out of the water and put her in my arms as I started to head toward shore. “Don’t leave me, Katie,” I whispered to the limp body in my arms, “Don’t you dare leave me, not now.” I tried to put meaning behind the words but I knew they were useless. The only way she would be able to live now was to get her to a hospital or somewhere else warm, but we were in the middle of a forest with nothing around but trees. She would die. I walked over to a tree and sit down, holding her in my arms, waiting for her death. I began to hum a lullaby to her.

I could feel his arms around me and though I was still freezing cold, my heart warmed, and I was no longer afraid. I felt him sit down by a tree with me. Even if I could have, I would not have told him to get up and help me. We both knew I was going to die. I heard him sing my lullaby. I was still freezing, but I was completely at peace. I was sinking deeper and deeper, into a state of unconsciousness I had never felt before. I was dieing, but the only thought going through my head was, the first thing I will do when I get to heaven is thank God for Jacob Cristan. I felt him kiss my forehead and I was ready to go.

I kissed her forehead. It was just as icy cold as the water I had pulled her from. Her breathing became slower and I knew her end was near. I began to hum again. It was strange: the instant she took her last breath, I knew it, as if she had been a part of me and the instant she died, so did part of me. Knowing her death was certain was not the only reason I didn’t try to find help. It was also because searching for help would have kept the both of us dwelling on the fact that we wouldn’t find any, and I didn’t want her to be full of sadness and worry, not in her last moments. No, I wanted her last moments to be happy and somehow, I knew they would be if she got to spend them in my arms. I wondered how she was doing up in heaven right now. I gave her one last kiss on the forehead and looked up to the sky, sitting there under the tree. She was dead. Katie Schlomer, my best friend and possibly even more. I rested my head against the tree and drifted into unconsciousness. My dreams were filled with me and her and what our life could have been like together. It wasn’t long before the cold took me too. As I drifted off into the caress of death, I saw her face, glowing in the sunlight and smiling at me. If someone would have seen us, they may have thought we were posing for a magazine picture the way we were cuddled up together, her in my lap and my arms wrapped around her. Of course, no one came. Why would they want to come here? To this lonely place…with nothing but trees, a frozen lake, and two kids who lived together and died together, their bodies frozen in each other’s arms, just waiting to be found.

yay today is the day ^^ good luck everyone XD

O.o I won? Sweet! ^^ *happehhappeh*

I lauged at my mention...in a good way though! Love ya Kayla...Annie!

Yay! Thank you for the honorable mention^^ I never thought I even stood a chance. I am very proud of myself, and thank you so much for letting me participate. XP