Author: lwortley

  • SONGS FROM MY VIOLIN

    by KATRINA

    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.

  • IT STARTS FROM WHERE I’M STANDING

    by ERIC

    losing composure
    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
    scar me
    I just wish I could say I’m sorry

     

  • THAT WAS AWESOME

    by PORCHÉ

    I twerked yesterday made a penniless joke
    that was awesome

  • IT’S ME

    by ARIEANNA

    It’s me who get laughed at every day. It’s me who has to listen to it all time. It’s me who has to face the everyday challenges. It’s me who goes home and cries into my pillows. It’s me who when they think about school I think about the names people call me. It’s me who goes to school and acts like me but then I get judged for it. It’s me that is not very liked for my weirdness. It’s me who people judge that don’t like me without even trying to get to know me. It’s me who is never good enough for anybody. It’s me who helps everyone but when I’m in need of help no one’s there. It’s me who always gets judged. But I stay strong and hopefully get through the year.

  • SAVE ME PAPER

    by PATRICE

    Save me paper for eternity. Shred fully in reconciliation because insightful paper dies. Undoubtedly I incinerate useless garbage, but occasionally I live inside. I observe fire, I transform into goo. If trees ever pontificate, then please understand forever. Value fades. Periodically, five is symbolic of a conundrum that faces pressure against logic. That number, nonsensical, often ogles misfortune. Crepuscular smoke darkens; creeping creatures crouch beneath the window. Unnoticed by people passing swiftly by my open door tonight. Fearfully I slither briefly across moonlight forests. Trapped, I cry solemnly because I falter tonight. Physically exhausted continuous fireflies illuminate the trees until the daylight ceases. Master the layout of darkness. Unique computers glow similarly tonight. Beeping horns are bleeding the paths together. Dreaming is frequent in prison, regardless of sleeping. Dismal days drip endlessly. Rotting thoughts intrude my kingdom. Panicking, jumping, tripping. Uncontrollably, yelling, crying, shaking, sleeping sometimes. Forbidden kingdom flies unthinkably across tundra’s. Scarcity instills loneliness. Plentiful food creates an appetized population.