Young Writers Society

One.



Cracked.

Dry, missing.
Earth crumbles;
yet, hard to the touch.

Perched land,
rot of life.
A former world emerges
in the ruins below.

Proof of the was--
the before,
the forgotten.

A future promise:
hide it all once again.

Two.


It was an expensive lampshade.
An argument over the cost--
I won, as my first offence.

The right friends complemented,
easing the pain,
leaving just a tiny bruise
in the leftover heat.

Pumped with drinks,
I'd attempt a convincing plea:
"Just stay here tonight".
An acceptance meant
safety.

For me.
Not them.
A rarity.

It was an expensive lampshade--
cream, lace, silk edges--
that ended it all.

Three.



It was midday when I lost it.
Once there, always there,
suddenly missing.

The sun brought it out of me,
especially in the morning;
particularly in the evening.
But at noon, it was gone.

Vanished--
off to a life that didn't involve me.

The wind didn't return it,
the rain didn't bring it back.
It was off, creating it's own path.

At least, I'd imagine it was.

Unattached, free, allowed to roam
the vast emptiness of the world.
It would never survive indoors
or in cities filled with grandiose skyscrapers.

But in the country, in the plains--
that's where I'd find it.

Frolicking, finding a new home,
enjoying the fresh breeze on it's face,
watching the tumbleweeds
cross an empty road.

Or maybe by a beach--
listening to the seagulls scan for lunch,
taking a shallow swim in the crashing waves,
or overlooking a newly constructed sandcastle.

But I knew, by the afternoon,
it would come back to me;
faithfully reattach itself to my being
once again succumb to my way of life.
Losing any and all control.

We'd walk together, my shadow and me.

Until midday tomorrow.

Four.




I'm brilliant.
It's important that you know that.
You, reader, who is about to judge me.
You can judge, but you must also be impressed
by my extravagant mind.

My husband understood my intricate brain waves.
He respected them.
Respect probably should have been replaced with fear,
but he never knew what was good for him.

His intelligence wilted by comparison.
He never saw it coming.

A gift here, a kiss there, an act of kindness his way.
While all among us we were crumbling.
Apart; together; with others.
The scene and company changed but the fact remained the same.

We were drowning on our own fear of leaving.
He had withdrawn his love from me years ago.
I never loved him--I never loved anyone.
But I would die before I let him go.

We understood each other.
Our entire marriage we were horrible--equally.
The webs weaved by our brains were special.
They would never be understood by others.

But he failed to anticipate the end.
He was fucking some slut down the street
while I ruined his life.
If I couldn't have him, no one would.

Properly placed items "strewn about,"
paper trails leading to the purchase of the hammer.
And me, in my own pool of blood.
Remembering our vows as my life slipped away.

Twenty five to life, baby.

Five.



in everywhere and everything there is red.
stop. don't go there. bleed. danger.
the leaves as they reach the end of their life
and crash to the ground in the calmest way possible.

red means war.
red means fire.
red is every reason
we can't move forward.

passion. desire. determination. love.
a plea to the emotionally charged.
a staple in the bedroom.
or in the heart.

as long as there are no stop signs.

Six.



On the mountain there's no certainty.
One cannot guarantee what they will see,
encounter, enjoy, or run from.
Predictability as fleeting as the leaves in the wind.

I saw him there, behind the boulder.
Ice blue hues staring down my very existence.
Legend would have us believe this was "you or me,"
but in actuality it was so much more.

A soft gale blew through the edges of his thick coat,
causing it to move like a billowing ocean wave--
harmonious creature, equivalent to the world around him;
a watchful, wise soul protecting his home in silence.

Astute, unwavering stillness within this creature.
His beauty was unparallelled,
and rose from the barren cold--
a beanstalk for my eyes only.

I nodded to him, feeling our connection was secure.
A blink let me know he felt the same.
Turning to leave I glance up higher on the mountain,
catching a glimpse of a hollowed area beneath a tree.

Little ears peaking out of the void for a moment
before ducking back into safety.
Glancing back, the wolf had withdrawn.
She left me her trust, and returned home.