I want to go to Paris
I want to live and breathe
I wish I could speak French.
I wish I had an accent.
Every night and day is my dream’s hope,
to see that shining light.
I believe that following your dreams
will make you be a believer.
I saw a tall, somewhat short
lady walking past the fancy café wearing
red high heels and a fancy bubblegum
beret. Her clothes were unique and
creative, classy, a fancy polka-dot dress.
In deep, deep within the fashion.
soul and fame. Their accents are different
from most accents. It’s real and true.
The warmth, feeling the fresh air. Seeking
a new journey is awesome, the best way
to be adventurous. The feeling of getting
married in Paris. Going to have a
honeymoon. That would be an amazing and beautiful
sight. Starting down the Eiffel Tower is like
feeling you’re on top of the world.
He was always lonely
Little, skinny, and bony
Told himself “One day
They will all pay
For how they treated me
Tryna tell me who I should be”
He tried suicide
Instead he sat and cried
Careful not to let them win
Did this over and over again
Wondering what’s his purpose
Wondering is it worth it
Parents tried and tried
To keep suicide out of his mind
Overdosing, parents exploding
Wondering what they did wrong
Throughout the years
Now he’s gone
But when he was here
He had no one to love
I lied when I said I loved you.
I lied when I said I didn’t.
I lied when I said I betrayed you.
I lied when I said I wasn’t
thinking about it.
I lied when I said I never slashed
I lied when I said
I lied when I cheated. I lied when
I left you.
I lied when I went crazy.
I lied to you.
I lied to my family,
and I lied to everyone.
I lied when I left you
I can talk to dead people through my violin. I sit in the dark forest and play a sad tune that makes your heart hurt when you hear it. Your ears ring and your brain turns to mush. The evil souls reveal themselves. It’s the only time they feel loved, understood, not neglected. Though it’s only on Halloween. The day the devil dances. Though one Halloween that was a mistake.
Since the devil is evil and full of tricks, he decided to play a game. The game was called soul-snatching. And since I was the dumb human I helped him. I didn’t actually help him snatch souls; I helped him by making him to feel welcome out of the shadows. See, now every time I played my violin, it made him stronger. He grew taller and became fatter, his claws longer and his teeth sharper. His mind thinks more evil thoughts and his plans become smarter.
He controlled me like a puppet on strings. He moved me out of the forest and into the world where all the innocent people were. He forced me to go into their homes and snatch their souls right out of their bodies. The looks on their innocent faces was a look I had never wanted to see. It was the look in the children’s eyes – a look of fear and worry. I felt ashamed. I wanted to die with them, especially when I had to look into the eyes of Jammonica.
She was the two-year-old I had once helped dress up like a princess and took trick-or-treating, the sweet, innocent girl I had babysat and tucked into bed every night. She was my little sister and I loved her. That feeling, that happy memory made the devil drop the strings.
I fell and broke the glass bowl in which I had been storing the souls. The souls sunk down into the earth and I heard an evil laugh.
A voice then said, “You almost made a fool of me. I almost lost my precious souls. Since you are a good person, and I feel you aren’t ready for this evil game and those wicked memories, I will take you out of your misery. But, for me to do that you would have to serve me and play your violin to make me happy.”
“See, now, you are trying to make a fool of me,” I replied. “I played my violin for you, and you became stronger. And to be fair, if I may add, I have been your servant long enough. I have served you daily. No way! I will not serve you anymore!”
I felt my body lift back up and travel back to the forest. My violin floated up and landed on my shoulder. My fingers automatically moved into place. The bow was already on the string, but I didn’t lift my hand to begin playing. I kept my hand on my right hip and said:
“Have fun in Hell, ‘cause that’s where you will stay.”
I then lifted my violin and slammed it against the cold dirt. It smashed into pieces. The game was finally over.
with little to no closure
catching the focus
of the surrounding environment
with the words
that weren’t appropriate
voyaging into the opening
of lost words unspoken
soaking in the orbiting commotion
of the people just asking…”what happened?”
whishing for captions
so they can skim for their unneeded knowing
of the opposite side launching
a verbal barrage
at an unarmed soldier
unprepared for any perpetrating
predator piloting toward where
the ground is lower
that drops bombs with astonishing kosher
shells of the argument
just lays and it bolsters
the chip on the shoulder is now a boulder
on the soldier…the soldier
is me and the shells of the argument
I just wish I could say I’m sorry
WHO WE AREExclusive Ink is Shortridge High School's dynamic creative writing group. This is the place for our work to glow.
WHAT WE DOWe write poems, short stories, essays, and whatever us inspires us. We share our work aloud and support each other.
WHY WE WRITEBecause it's freedom. Because it's fun.