Hillside
The hills role on and on, slumbering and sloping, raising and rolling, slowly falling and fading away into a flat surface, bending and turning over and around its former self, the grass becoming greener as the earth grew softer, the cliffs falling out underneath the blue sky, clear as it could be, shining itself as perfectly as it could on this piece of the world, allowing the wind to see as it softly guides the blades of grass to the east, never once waning or fading as it leads the way, never once crossing paths with a single shadow or patch of anything else as the grass shone back at the sky, turning the blue a shade of green and as this all carried on, a solitary soul wondered what tomorrow would bring.
It’s hard to listen to the same advice everybody gives when being yourself means being a selfish, moronic, angry, painfully ungrateful asshole.
Exorcise
I ran as fast as I could.
As the wind rushed against me and the friction of rubber and cement burned across the ground I thought about what got me here.
I made mistakes. A lot of them. A whole lot. A horrific, almost endless, terrible, heavy, dreaded truckload of mistakes. There was blood and there was glass and bodies and so much lost. More lost than could ever be gained.
I turned the corner, almost unable to control my own speed. My feet started to find a rational rhythm rather than the frantic motions propelling me forward.
Take it all, I prayed.
Take it all back. Give me another chance. I will give all of this up, I will never even think of it again. I will never ask for a single thing ever again. I will be good. I will be good. I swear. Just send me back and let me do this all over again. Can’t you do that for me? Haven’t I gone through enough?
My eyes started to well, partly because of the cold rush stabbing through my cornea and partly because I was begging as though there was any way of this ending in my favor.
My legs burned, the acid seeping into my bones and spreading up and down. I felt my heart pushing through my chest, hoping to get out. I was going to collapse if I thought about it any longer. So I didn’t.
I stared straight ahead, looking at where the sky met the earth, and ran toward it.
I swear, never again. Never again, I swear.
Give me a bed
I need some rest
Give me a bed
I need some rest
Give me a bed
I need some rest
Give me a bed
I need some rest
Ascendance
A fallen angel
so broken and bent
take off your wings now
your hair is tangled
you’re heaven sent
no longer dead, you’re disavowed
don’t dress your wounds yet
you let them breath
the skin on your hands cut
just like your knees
measure your spirit
estimate your soul
the weather is warm
the blanket is cold
your head is bleeding
stay, stay with me
memories placed on shelves
now falling over slowly
and once, they said
you were so lovely
so clean and pure
but vile words
made them unsure
so you lay down
warm and loved
a lovely town
just up above
you reach, you smile
you bare your teeth
you breath, all while
you’re asking “please”
Lighting
“I’m sorry.” He said to her, staring at her now empty body lying on the floor.
Regret and sorrow filled his eyes, drowning themselves in the blue ocean they’ve always looked like. His lips moved slightly, trying to come up with something else could say. But all he could do anymore was barely whisper “I’m sorry,” under his breath repeatedly.
His body began feeling cold as well, coming to match hers. His fingertips loosing feeling, his skin becoming iced over. Legs gave out and arms rolled themselves forward to her, gripping at her clothes as though he was trying to squeeze the last bit of life out of the color. He pushes her hair back and leans in, kissing her cheek and resting himself on the floor alongside her. His final breath leaves him and the drowning eyes overflow, finally releasing. He takes her hand, hoping it will be that much easier to find her soul. The ceiling became brighter and more obscured yet he never needed to squint. All he does is smile, ending it with a worried look. He’s going back. He’s going back.
And cut.
Reading
She turns the page.
She turns over in her bed, keeping light shining over the words. Line after line, she reads and consumes it all. Every letter, every word. Smiling at the cleverness of the story, at the beauty of the characters. People she’s met and known almost entirely in her own head, each one with their own life and physical attributes. Ticks and emotions and every little detail perfectly defined within her mind. Voices are distinct and wonderful, the quotation marks beginning and ending on notes. Her eyelids blink serenely, softly covering her eyes for a moment, only to open back up as quickly as they’d closed. She laughs to herself a small bit, breath escaping her lungs a quiet electric. Paragraphs break.
She starts almost anew, but in the same mind. She moves across the line, through the crevasse and over it again. The reading begins again at the top of the page, the number in the corner changes at the end. Rolling down, divinely accessing every word, creating the setting and the world in her mind. Keeping track every once in a while with a lightly pressed finger. Down and down, to the bottom of the page, until the final punctuation mark, only to turn the page again.
Something
Fascinating, the world is. Spinning over and over, trying to find its tail. The sky rises and falls and if you stare at it long enough, you can see it breathing. The stars spread themselves heavily and lightly across the top and the sun sheds a new light, fresh and shimmering.
Old and dead, some might say.
New and wonderful, others protest.
People have always tried to find themselves, their other halves and their purpose. The answer sometimes lies along the shores, the ocean meeting the land as they fade into each other. In alleys and homes, in untouched attics and unknown hallways. Lining the walls are images you’ve so often attempted, but could never curve your fingers correctly to create. You smile. Your eyes widen, trying to accept it all into your memory. If you ever needed to think of this again, it would need to be as vivid as possible. Your spine drifts along your back comfortably chilling you. It’s something new. Something wonderful. Something you’ve searched for and something you’ve found.
Strangers, Ch. 2
A Doctor Who/Harry Potter crossover fic
[Chapter 1]
“Luna? Lovegood?”
“Yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to her. One of a kind, that one. She stole a pair of my shoes once. She’s not even my size! I liked those shoes, too…do you know where they are? No, of course you wouldn’t. Sorry for asking. These corridors are beautiful! Real stone and all. This place, Harry. This old place and the stories it can tell. So tall and worn. So beautiful. A beacon of hope.”
By the time the Doctor had stopped speaking, the TARDIS door was closed, he was about ten feet away from Harry and he was on the grass, looking up at the wonderful height of the school.
“Oh, Rowena,” He said to himself, “You would be so proud.”
Looking back to Harry, he took concentrated, serious steps toward him, finally stopping in front of him.
“Well then, I’m the Doctor and you’re Harry Potter. You know what that means?”
“What?” asks Harry.
“Lots of trouble.” He smiled.
Strolling across the halls familiarly, the Doctor looked around him in his not-subtle wonder, his shoes kicking in front of him before each step. Harry kept trying to keep up with him, almost bothered by the Doctor’s strangely fast pace.
“Who are you?” Harry finally got to ask.
“I’m the Doctor, Potter. I thought we’d gotten through introductions.”
“I—I know you’re the Doctor, but who are you?”
“What do you mean?” asked the Doctor, a bit miffed at Harry’s repetitive questioning.
“I mean, where are you from? Why were you in that box? What are you like?”
The Doctor suddenly stopped and turned.
“I’m the Doctor, Mr. Potter. I do…Doctor-y things.” He questioned his own wording.
“And what does that mean?” Harry asked, his natural curiosity disregarding the fact that he still basically has the same information he’s had since the Doctor stepped out of his box.
“It means, I move all around: doing things, helping people, running. Basically, Mr. Potter, I fix things. There tends to be danger around me, but I have nothing if not good intentions. There tends to be a lot of running along with it.”
To Harry, the Doctor was such a curious character he didn’t pay attention to where they were going. He finally looked around at where he was and realized they’d gone up a few levels.
“Harry,” The Doctor asks, finally slowing down and stopping in front of a painting. “What’s the password?”
A Speech That Will Amount to Nothing
You don’t know what it’s like to be me. To have to wake up every morning and be disappointed at your continuing existence. T—to stare at yourself in the mirror in repulsion and to have to carry around this past. For every moment I’m awake, I regret saying one thing and not saying another. I rethink every word and I, I—I am careful beyond measure. And because I’m so careful it hurts that much more when something goes wrong. You are…what’s gone wrong. You are the thing that, that make my stomach turn ever day because I made terrible choices and what I had no power over certainly didn’t help.
I’m sorry. I am so sorry for everything I’ve done. For everything I haven’t. I try and I try but I can’t seem to think of anybody but myself when it comes to gaining something. I am selfish, I am stupid, I am weird, I am terrible and I am so in love. I am so in love and I hate myself for it. If I had any say in the matter, I would turn it off completely. I would forget you wholly and I would go on with my life and be so much happier. You’re everything to me and I know it’s the worst investment I can make and that there is no way this story ends without me losing, but I keep at it anyway. It’s so…entertaining to everyone around me, it seems like, that I’m so melancholy and emotionally immobile purely because of the fact that you actually exist. And I know that under no circumstances will I ever be able to have you. You are visible, but unattainable. I can grab your hand, but I can never take it. I can never hold it.
That’s all I wanted to say. Well, there’s more, but I’ll spare myself the wasted breath.
Now you can go ahead and forget me again.
