Invaders of the Word had across our lands, our motherland of our own time. They came to tell us of our past, the one we dare not tell our children. We are living in a harder time, the stone is being picked at once again,
But the children do not prevail, yet they do cry in their fathers frustrations and mother’s pain.
It’s hard to tell a picture from a story that was painted before our time that led out our futures cry.
Her transparent body floats, taking hold of what is now,
She tilts her head, walking into a haze, million dirty ways,
She jumps, pointing her toes, her elegance to be gained in precise movement,
The dead beat of the song pulsing through the room,
You can’t see the tears that she’s cried behind the mask,
She tried to forget the horror, but it’ll never leave for the past has resurrected,
The waves, yea, they drag her down, down below an abyss everyone forgets when you die,
But to die, she said, would be an untold story,
For Death is an untold story.
*Behind a closed door lies a beginning, or an end, another world, another lifetime. Behind any closed door, hidden there is a key or lock. Behind all closed doors, comes new possibilities. Behind every close door, hides a secret*
“Oof!”
A quick jab in the girls jaw had her flying down, hitting her little head against the hard floor. She couldn’t cry, even though she wanted to, it would make him laugh. His boot swung up and with enough force, he kicked her little body off the ground, thrown against the wall. She plummet down, afraid. She coughed and wheezed, her vision blurry, her eyes hot with tears.
The monster, a horrid swine, bent down, coming close to her ears, whispering evil hatred. He grabbed her long, knotted hair with his hand and dragged her to a dirty old mattress on the floor, in this torture room. He ripped off her only clothes and threw them across the empty room, laughing crazily.
The little girl whimpered, pleading not be hurt, like this, again. But there was no stopping a madmen, a beast, a parasite, from killing, hurting, raping, torturing… It will be an endless cycle in this world. Unless these weeds can be pulled from the garden, to never again harm a precious, fragile flower like the little girl. The little flower named Phoebe.
“I know you want me like this, you little disgusting whore!” He hissed in her ear, she cried- which angered him. He wrapped his huge, wolf- like hands around her small neck, squeezing hard where she couldn’t breathe. He laughed, and laughed, taking in the excitement from the little girls face, a face of pure terror and agonizing horror.
“Please… just… stop.” she breathed-
and suddenly
She was free.
He was lifted off of her body, thrown back, a bullet blasting his brains and tissue all over the wall.
A loud ringing began and she held her hands up to her ears, trying to block out the pain. Everything turned white, and a warm blanket covered her dirty body, and she was lifted by strong welcoming hands, and in the distance she heard a soft voice, “You’re safe now Phoebe, do not be afraid.”
And in that moment, her heart gave in, not rejecting, but allowing the unknown hero have full utter control over the next few moments of her unstable life.
Later on, in some point of time, she heard the words, “One other parasite removed from…”
We are sisters.
Maybe not by blood,
But who else is going to tell us otherwise?
We have similarities.
Same morals,
Same skin,
Same story,
Same LOVE.
We care for each other like sisters should.
Maybe we don’t fight like we should,
Maybe we don’t understand each other sometimes,
Maybe were just weird…
But what I know is that sisters stick together,
Through good times and bad.
So here I am!
With my arms stretched out,
Ready to be there when you need me. ❤
~Goobis<3
5/21/13
“A human brain is complex in many ways. Many men are knowledgeable, yet only to a certain degree. The mind has many features still locked away, not even you and me could comprehend the understanding of what it means to really ‘live’. That’s why each individual body, soul, and mind is it’s own machine, yet we are all connected to the same root; Earth.”
“I’m Alice, Alice Thompson.” the girl spoke.
“State your age.” The older man wrote, avoiding eye contact at the moment.
“14.”
“What are your parents names?”
She hesitated. “Mary and Dave Thompson.”
“Do you know what happened to them.”
“They died, the shadow killed them.” She gulped. He scribbled down some notes and she shifted in her plastic chair, holding her breathe so the old man wouldn’t hear her heart beating quickly. She wiped her clammy hands on her gown.
“Who is the shadow?” He asked.
“He lived in our new house, he didn’t like anyone of us, except me.”
“Why didn’t he like your parents?”
“Dave is my step-father, he would of liked my real dad.”
“What is your real dads name?”
“Jacob Jefferson.”
“Why do you think the shadow would like your real dad?”
“Because he never hurt me.”
“Did your step dad hurt you?”
“Y-…Yes.” She stuttered.
“What did he do to you.”
“He… hit me. And… He- always yelled at me.”
“Did he ever sexually abuse you?” He asked. I looked at the recorder and the camera that was filming my expressions and what I said. I was being torn from the inside out. He would get me, hurt me again. He could see me through these glass walls, seep down beneath my clothes and tear away my flesh. He would command me to do things I didn’t want to do. Everything he did was wrong. And he never did anything for me. Nothing.
“Alice, has your step- father ever sexually abuse you?”
“He raped me.” I said numbly, invisibly gagging on the words and distilled air in this tiny room. When will this end???
“How many times?”
“…Seven times.”
“Did your mother know?” He asked as he wrote down the words I bled from within me.
“No, she was always working. I never could tell her, because he said he would of killed her.” I looked at my feet.
“Have you ever contacted anyone?”
“I have no other family.”
“What about people at your school?”
“I had no friends.” I looked at him, yet he was only doing his job, he has no sympathy for me. Like I wanted it anyways.
“Do you know why your here?”
“Because you and everyone believes I killed my parents.” I said.
“Who do you believe killed them?”
“The shadow.” I said matter-of-factly.
“Did you parents know about the shadow?” he said tapping his pen on the table
“No, he was invisible, only I could see him, my parents never wanted to see him. They said he was fake, that I was lying. But they were wrong, he was real.”
“Does the shadow say anything?”
“It said it hurts only the people who deserve to die. Like my step father, he deserved to die.” I smiled.
“Would you of killed your step father?” He looked at me with disgust.
“No. Because my mom loved him, so the shadow killed him for me.”
May 24, 2013: Patient 167. Thompson, Alice is diagnosed with ‘Personality disorder’ and ‘Borderline’, the inability to regulate emotions. She has major anxiety attacks and periodically trouble breathing at times. She is physically healthy but unstable, and should be watched at all times. She has failed attempt records of committing suicide. Her prescription should be given to her twice a day. She is calm and not aggressive, and should be given outside communication if any distress occurs.
August 4, 2014: Patient 167. Thompson, Alice is deceased due to committing suicide. Papers have shown progress of cooperation and good behavior, but later that week it began to lower in success and she became less mentally unstable and unable to talk to. The next month she was very depressed, even on medication, and on 22:31, August 1, 2014, Alice was found dead, wrists slit deeply by a broken glass from her mirror.
File Closed.
“Silence is words unspoken and the mind screaming out.”
The Creator made Men the most successful and knowledgeable of all beings on Earth. And now it is our turn to be responsible and care for the Earth as how the Creator wanted.
“Let not all the world be judged by what men’s tongue can say, but appraise them by not simply following others, for no person should follow behind another.
All people are equal, they say… For are we all- truly equal?
I believe we are not, yet we are. For we are all humans,
we all make mistakes, some learn, and some don’t.
Some love others, some love themselves.
We… are all different. Every one of us have their own secrets and stories to tell.
Yet, we all gather for the same reason, we all have things in common, bringing people closer.
Would life have any meaning without Love and Happiness?
Isn’t that the whole point of life?
Without it, our life is just to learn, grow wise, and die.
With love, we have a new door open with experience, with more emotions, and we become more humane.
Without love, we wouldn’t be human. We would be empty shells of nothing but knowledge of the past, present, and future. Life would be as meaningless as the Book of Life that is blank of pages.”
“I had a way then, losing it all on my own.
I had a heart then but the queen has been overthrown,
And I’m not sleeping now, the dark is too hard to beat
And I’m not keeping now, the strength I need to push me
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone
You shine it when I’m alone
And so I tell myself that I’ll be strong
And dreaming when they’re gone, cuz their calling…. Me home”
-Ellie Goulding ❤
Blackinkhearts 