This is what I wanted my future to be like, filled with happiness. I wanted my life to be filled with good memories. Memories I’d look fondly back at. But I’d also have to accept the bad memories as well. Though if I had people who cared about me, they wouldn’t be so bad. They’d make life tolerable and worth living.
Thoughts kill you… Or so that’s what I’m convinced as to. It’s never usually healthy, the thoughts running around in your head. It eats you alive until you’re obsessing about it. And trust me obsession is never healthy. Well sometimes, if it’s a healthy obsession. Like with sports, except the aggression part, well actually scratch that. Maybe with video games, well it’s good until it consumes your life and leaves you with no skills of social interaction. So maybe I’ve come to the terms that no obsession is healthy…
It’s not like I could escape it… This town, this quiet little town called Riverdale wasn’t much of a safe haven as you’d expect little towns to be. Oh, there was so much more that this town held that I would soon come to know; secrets, lies, death, betrayal, etc. Honestly, I didn’t know why I still stuck around in this town. I could have gone to live with my mother in Forks. But I chose to stay back with my dad, why? Must be a very good reason. Read more
I swear I could hear my heart ripping out of my chest when he uttered those last five words that I thought that I would never hear in my entire life. It was a windy day before spring break and I was standing outside of the bus pick up area in the school.
In the beginning, a blink was a few hours gone.
Then it grew to a day.
A day turned into a week.
Weeks turned into months.
Months turned into years.
And after seven years, they pulled the plug on Sleeping Beauty.
There was no evil fairy responsible, just a helpful friend.
There was no curse, except reality.
There was no spinning wheel, but temazepam.
Fear feels unwelcoming, as I look at you in a crowded room.
It’s being isolated, left alone with toxic thoughts.
The creeping weight of “what would have been?”
Sneaking up on me, in its eerie tone, haunting me.
Fear looks lonely, in the dark shadows of the night.
The lone nights spent in distress with thoughts consuming my mind.
Fear is the waking reminder you are, just but a ghost of memory.
Fear is when I wake up wanting to text you,
But I realize you probably don’t care to hear my whimpering sobs.
Fear is wanting attention
But feeling too desperate.
Fear is the nightmare the consumes reality.
Day 6 (Present time)
“Mrs. can you remember anything at all? Anything that can help us find your children?”
“No,” I cried, sobs racking my body as I fell over. Two pale blonde haired arms gracefully caught me. I glanced up to find my husband who looked heart broken.
“Leah, please. We need to know everything you know. Think back,” He begged as he raised me up and onto the nearest chair which was directly in front of the lean and tall sheriff who was cautiously watching me.
“Danny, can you please leave the room? I think it’s best if I question her one on one,” He informed, taking a seat as he looked at my husband.
“So you can hound her like she’s a criminal,” He venomously spurred as he glared at the tan man, as he sized him up. His eyes widened a little when Sheriff Jones stood up from his position on his desk. He walked over towering above my husband, who’s chunky but compressed force held no threat to the fit man.
He ran his tan hand through his chocolate brown hair, before closing his greenish-blue eyes and sighed. “Sir, I can guarantee you that I will not treat your wife hostile,”
“Darling please leave,” I said, my voice barely reaching over a whisper. He looked over at me as if I had shot him but none the less he walked out the door.
“Mrs. Pierce, do you remember the last place you saw them?”
In my mind I always went back to the Witch’s Coven, that’s where everything went downhill.
“You’re an ugly one, aren’t you?” her reflection mused aloud. Ari jerked back in shock and dropped the antique handheld mirror to the floor. Luckily, or perhaps, unfortunately, her floors were covered with thick plush carpets, and so the mirror did not shatter. Read more
A tale as old as time.
The Beast often kills the Beauty.
He is a horrible monster with no one to love him.
The Beauty is often kind to the Beast.
She is a young maiden-virginal and pure.
That is how things often are.
It is not how things are in this story.
There she stood in all her glory, the object of my affections. The way her chocolate-brown hair fluttered in the win filled me with complete joy and her eyes, oh her eyes. The emerald greens could pierce into your very soul as if she was learning all your dirty little secrets. Her skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. But she hid it all beneath that oversized red hoodie; it was like that thing was infused to her skin. Regardless of it all, she was still a masterpiece; she was my masterpiece. Read more