That girl

"She's mad, and i told him because he needs to know that the woman he married," i sank on the seat opposite the mirror, " Is terrified of age and punishing the world for it.My wife my Wife," Leanna Mimimicked. Her fathers praise rang through her eardrums turning her stomache like a washing machine. "she tried to kill her because she's jealous, because she's ugly rotten on the inside, mad and forgotten,"
"What do you mean forgotten?"
" Mum feeds off attention. you think its about how we feel, or that men on the street don't wolf whistle at her anymore, she lost a job that made her feel powerful, and here she is cooking up ways to destroy the life of a girl half her age if she could kill her she would, but not for us, not because we feel bad," Leanna took in a long sigh. " Because she's sick of herself, and nobody sees it but us. The dresses that dont fit. The friends who dont pick up her calls anymore, she feels left out of everything, and were supposed to save her, when was the last time she talked about just us. Our achievements, i got complimented at my job recently, mums so obsessed with this girl, she didn't even mention it. My boss joked soon id be the boss." Her brother wiped the tear from her eye. They were a family, each one on an Island , none more desolate than their mother herself. Her world revolved around competing with a girl half her age,  " i bought her a gift a while back, it wasn't flowers, she instantly launched into a monologue about Olivia Jones,"
'Olivia Jones," Wolf supplied, "is just living the life mother wanted to live growing up, and were suffering. She figured out a way to bring on the girls seizures,"
" I wish it was simple. That i could just say she's nuts and that's the end of it,"
"but it's more complex than this," he ran his hands through his dark hair, " she can hold a normal conversation, she cooks like a normal housewife, she even apppears normal when she talks, but you have that girl appear, and she starts allover again,"
"its something about that girl."
"I think its something about her past, she refuses to resolve. Ghosts, they haunt her, and that girl reminds her of someone. Someone that made her feel less than adequate."
"She tried to kill her," Bertrand put in her shiny black hair swaying in the wind, Her brown eyes now needle black. " She used the urn to try and kill her saying she'd die of axfixiation, If you saw the look in her eyes, razor sharp, she knew exactly what she was doing."
There was a ghostly silence. It hung like glue from trees, fear echoed in their hearts, each one beating a bass line. " She's too selfish to do it for her family, this is about her. Your mum's about ego. There's a way she envisioned her life, nothing in her life turned out the way she wanted it,"
" That girls done so much to..."
" Dont you get it, your mum's trying to get her power back through this one girl. Other people have hurt her, but this is about more than being hurt, it's about everything, it's about not being abandoned, not being left, and trying to mould you into the characters that she wants you to be."
I scrunched my features the way i used to when my teacher asked circumference questions.
" She's not happy Lea, no amount of torturing girls half her age will make her. She married into a life. She's jealous of what you refuse to see. She's jealous that girl is loved, look how much she has to do to get love. Women have to become sluts , whores, slags, so she's moderately attractive, anytime that girl gets male attention your mum starts making a spectacle of herself, so somehow the attention lands on her, she craves attention. You can't even have friends over without her turning it into a circus." I swallowed hard, deep down i knew the truth. It was heavy on me, but loyalty itself is a burden. " That girls problem started with your mother, your mother with her, the way she makes things up, who knows where the truth lies." She reached for a large glass of water, downing it as though it were gin. " She's emotionally exhausting, and lying, and suffocating, and i guess ill see you around." We looked at her in confusion my brother and i.
" She wont get help for her....episodes, you wont get her help, your all pretending as though everythings fine, she's a threat, to someone else's child. Obsessed, fixated,she's not normal" another pause. " What if that girl had hit her head really hard and died. That's how people die from epilepsy. What your family did was attempted murder, and for what? Because one woman refuses to grow old gracefully. " She downed another glass of water. " That's how John Travolta's son died of epilepsy, if that girl was on her own and you were using whatever you were using. It would have been murder." I wondered what we would have done after that? Would we have patted her on the back and supported her whinings about feeling inadequate? My mother is one of the most manipulative people ive ever met, she knows how to play people off against each other. She'd done it most of my life. Power hungry, Egotistical, and exceedingly cunning, lies leaked off her tongue like water, there was no doubt my mother had done her research on Epilepsy, she knew the dangers. I leaned back in my seat, i studied my brother's expression. " John travolta's son had an epileptic seizure hit his head and died in the bath." It was said with a sombre knowing.

Su Hill: Short story

image from  evanira.deviantart.com

"Your crazy you know that, this is acid rock hardcore shit it eats you." I shrugged at Adrien Molex, swiped playfully at his fringe. We were sitting on the highest precipice of nature's den, a place perfect for climbers.
"Your really gonna do this to beat her."
"I'd do anything to beat that fucking," His malteser eyes swallowed me, a thick finger pressed against my pulsing mouth. We were alive together. Fire in our veins, alcohol drowning our curling Oesophogus. Danger on the tongue. The bitch we were talking about was my twin sister Rhia. He was banging her, because that's how men communicate with her immaculate features, and slender shape. Then when he knocked on our door, the third time, there was a moment, like a bubble had swallowed us and we were in our hub. " It's ridiculous to think a man like you could love someone like her," i'd seethed internally.My eyes sparked with jealous rage, and then an orgasm of calm exploded as he placed a hand gently on my square shoulders. Millitant yet terrified of the world outside.
"I didn't know Rhia had a twin, she's very beautiful," funnily enough id always known i wasnt. It was like god had picked the petals of mothers womb, remaining was me, a shapeless stem. Lean enough to be gangly, short spiky hair which never agreed with order or hairbrushes. One kid once said i was deformed in comparison to my sister. It bit me at the time, and then i began to accept it. " Rhia looks latino, Spanish,is she mixed?" Stupid questions, stupid strangers asked. It sucked so hard being compared to my glamorous twin. At schools, girls ran their hands seductively through her endless main of wild, curly hair. Stubbornly she had managed to grow it to near her ankles. Rhia Evans looked like a painting, and i the younger twin looked more ....regular. I hated that. I never felt regular , i felt odd in my skin, like i belonged in a spaceship somewhere, martians please invite me.
"You can take the first hit," He flashed a dimpled smile waving hands appart,
"No way, i like being smart. These are the freezers, he scanned the almost empty moss green cliffs.
" I really want to kiss you right now, make you come to your senses,"
"it's a trip, i need a trip, people lean in when she utters a sentence, hungry for her adventures," i sighed, " im the salad or the green peas the child plays with on his plate. Lena the troublesome one. \Lena the meth head, and lena the product of an artist who barely came to completion. I pulled the white stick to my lips, sucking it in as it entered my chest, and teased in like a belly dancer. suddenly i felt a sharp prick in my lungs, fire and heat , i began coughing dramatically choking as i grappled for air. My eyes bulged, i could feel the veins popping out, it felt as though my body was preparing to shatter into a million pieces."what is this?"
I spat nervously, panic strangling my every breath. " People aren't what you assume."
"What is this?" I put my hands to my throat trying to cough out its contents.
"Something unpredictable. Your sister is waiting for me over there," he pointed a finger at curdwells narrow street. " It will look like you committed suicide."

365 days: Short story

painting by Franz Von


Smells, i cant put my finger on it cinnamon leaks through your nostrils, mint slides down your lungs. The hair.Short shiny bob, rich eyes a purple blue hue, lean frame, she was something you awed at. She looked like the others, the others look like mother when she was young, pretty happy, with her shiny black bob and retail uniform. She was dead in the eyes, I had to kill her. I had to kill them, it was my favour to the world, their beauty was a stain on it. It doesn't make sense, 365 days, 24 hours, i finish work at 9:30, their eyes are glued to me, those spirits, they watch my every move, she was other worldly. I had to bury her before i burried her. It started in a dream, unravelling like a scarf, 365 days, 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, she was a poltergeist haunting my thoughts. They speak in hushed tones when i march into the office, whisper, gulping down words that are delicious to only them. It's girls like her, i dated a girl that looked just like Madison Grey once, she wasn't as trendy. She was braces, and didn't swivel her hips when she walked. Instead she marched. Pretty girl, no one can blame me about the blood. It's them, they make you hungry. Your not scared of newspapers, or magazine articles or being exposed, you find tidy places, plots to bury. You ignore the sobs of howling parents on flatscreen tv's, or flyers saying have you seen this girl? Madison was the last. I swore she would be the last to me, she had to be, police were not as dumb as they looked. I was a concerned neighbour with brown hair and caterpillar moustache, concerned hippy who noticed a few things out of place. I was tired of my ingenius IQ. I'm ten steps ahead of myself it's been years, and it's gotten boring. Those stupid police officers look for bodies the way barbie dolls look for vintage classics. What's so precious about this life? You come you go. Yet Jason was lying to himself, he lied often it was the potential that they could find love, the potential they could find happiness something his mother never had. She wasn't battered physically, but life. Such pretty things they were, when he buried them he lined them up like neat Chinese dolls. " 365 days, 24 hours in a day," mother had piped every morning. " What would you do with yourself?" The sadness in her eyes was like a blunt object carving it's way through your core. She was dying, every day your alive your closer to dying anyway, but unlike the women in the groups, and the hubs, mother was dying of something else, a bitterness had eaten it's way into her core. Her smiles were plastic. It was a strange thing. To be so happy and so sad all at the same time, Then the idea had come to him  when he'd seen that fox out on pitchmans Grey, it was writhing and dying, it's teeth were visible as though it were trying to smile, he'd marched straight up to the house where the bread knife was plunged it into the heart of the animal. Somehow that made so much sense, perfect sense such a pretty thing, what if someone healed it, bandaged it up and it was different. It happened on Tuesday, Tuesday the 4th of October. "365 days in a year, 24-" she hadn't seen it, it was the old screwdriver in the toolbox he drove in deep into her navel over and over again. " Liar!" he tossed the word, feeling the poison within. " Your not happy you never were. No more smiles." Hunched over he stood back and finished his cereal as he watched her bleed all over the kitchen floor. It was a strange emotion, dark, empty, numbing, the world seemed quiet but the clink of his spoon on the blue oriental bowl." I hate that sentence. I hate pretenders." He burried her in the shed, they didn't have many friends but whenever anyone called she had relocated, was living with a sister for a while. Until he disconnected the phones and with her savings moved. " 365 days in a year, 24" that sentence always came to him when he saw them, the copycats of mum. It made him erect, his veins pulse, he'd speak to himself in hushed tones as he followed them around chelsea, kingscross in London one in Bermuda, 365 days, they were sick, he was fixing their lives.

Adam Lanza goes ape shit and blows the world away

America please stop making guns so easily accessible to your public. Another kid has popped the cork in the U.S. of A. 20 year old Adam Lanza decides he wont just gun down his mother (a school teacher),  in a good ol Connecticut elementary school; he'll slaughter 20 children and six adults. The therapists and specialists on news media produce the same story's they hide behind; he was a loner, spent a lot of time by himself, his parents divorced maybe he just snapped because of that. I have to argue that the world is full of loners who aren't going round killing everyone, children who come out of broken homes extremely successful and incredibly happy. That's a poor excuse. If he just snapped did anybody reach out to him, offer him assistance, help in anyway. The aging process can be quite brutal, and some of us who are not aware were on the wrtong path, or those suffering with mental health problems, can become too scared to reach out and get assistance. The sad thing is this guy's performance will create a stigma for other people who suffer from mental health problems and ensure it's harder almost impossible for them to function in society as quote on quote normal people. People who vaguely keep to themselves will become questionable, and paranoia will reel it's ugly head. Young men need to know having a gun doesn't automatically mean you have the biggest cock in the world. In fact it almost disempowers because it's cheating. Guns outside of the police department should be used as an instrument of protection. Sadly internationally it's rumoured that purchasing a gun in  America is almost as easy as buying sweets. Although i dont believe all rumours. America please tighten your gun laws for the sake of your children.


R.I.P to the lost loved ones.