smooth walls enclosed the space. clean, cool, safe. i had just come upon this room with its golden wooden floor. it wasnt special. just a room. but it was safe and clean and good. i walked around, absently caressing the wall. the paint wasnt new, but the integrity of it was palpable. the soft dryness of the wall registered as good as well. i turned to look at the entire room again...so pleasing and calm it was to my eyes when i noticed something on the farthest wall. a spot. black, wet-looking, tar-like. i wondered at this that i hadnt seen seconds before, so i wandered over to the spot. it seemed to be growing. oozing out of the wall, spreading...like a drop of black blood on clean white cotton. tendrils laced out and away from it, infecting more and more of the clean walls. backing away in my horror at the spread of the disease, i heard a noise behind me. the clean plaster of the walls was crumbling. sliding down to reveal a wall of, not lathing, but more blackness. it was not the one spot that was infected. the whole room was oozing with the evil blackness. sick and rotting the stench suffocated me. the once golden wood floor beneath my bare feet became suddenly rotting and sharp with splinters. i wanted to run but i knew i couldnt. i smiled through the tears that were streaming down my face. smiled at my naivete. smiled at the earlier estimation of goodness and integrity. and the evil began to fill the room.

chapter 1

"Damn," she thought as she rolled over in the sheets, listening to the unearthly scream of the alarm clock. It was that point in sleep where you haven't quite opened your eyes but are still horribly aware of the vulgar screech of the alarm pulsing away, deriding all that is good and holy in the morning time. Not that there is anything particularly good or holy about morning, she thought to herself. Those last few moments of blissful unawareness passed painfully quickly and the cloud of responsibilities that the day would bring loomed inches over her bed, waiting to crash down on her shoulders the instant a semblance of consciousness was regained. Reveling in her last few moments of ignorance, she savored the softness and warmpth of her pillow and idly entertained the possiblility that she may be able to sleep in today.

The alarm clock made sure that this was impossible, however. She sat up, immediately coming into painful contact with the cloud of her mental "to-do list" for the day, and groggily batted at the biggest button on the alarm clock. She could feel the bed pulling her back down, but she resisted today, seeing as she had given in to the warm softness too often before. Besides, today she needed a shower, and the will to smell good outweighed the will to attempt another two minutes of sleep. She'd just end up having to wake up all over again, and it really wasn't worth it. She slid out of bed and headed towards her door. Staggering enough to have to grab the door frame to keep from falling face first into the wall.

The bathroom was the same dingy white it had always been. It would have been painted by now...except that she never found the time to decide on the color she wanted. She felt blindly for the faucet; her eyes had not regained the ability to focus yet...almost, but not quite. She looked down into the sink and froze. It was there again. The deep red smear, bigger this time. Redder this time. She heard the blood rushing in her ears and she felt the quickened throb in her neck.

"Not again." She whipered. "No, it can't have come back."

She wanted to run, to scream, to faint, to suddenly be jolted awake again by the deafening blare of her alarm. It had to be a dream. It didn't really happen. No...no.

She quickly began wiping with the first dry cloth that she could reach. An old blue shirt of James' that he had left at her house weeks ago. She tried not to notice how much blood was seeping into the fabric as she continued her panicked smearing.

Turning, she froze. This time she did scream, though it was not a full scream. More like the sound one would make when one first feels the strong hands close around the throat. A high pitched exclaimation, cut short by the sudden constriction of the hands. There on the windowsill, was a crimson smear of blood...a five fingered smear. She lunged at the sill with the blue shirt, rubbing the erie smear beyond her initial recognition. Shaking violently, and breathing irradically, she kept frantically cleaning the scarlet stains off the sink and sill.

She spent the rest of the morning fighting the image of the ominously shaped smear on the sill, as it seemed to be the image that persisted in her mind.

view from my window

growling, the deep grey clouds fade away in the distance as the soft, white fluff drifts in between the blue mountain tops. cold breeze chases away the heat fo the summer sun hidden behind layers of grey cotton batting. crisp and clean the divide of clear air between the grey ceiling and the white expanse of cotton tucked softly in the valleys with islands of trees sticking out of the fallen clouds.

random thoughts

i would rather misjudge a person as greater in character than less.


"self-contemplation is a curse, that makes an old confusion worse"
~ Roethke

too much caffiene

small child running away far away from the music playing and the softness of sunday church fading into the past. grey dusty planks wooden floor dirty feet and splinters. muddy tendrils wash the pebbles in the stream of ice. green moss moist and soft cushion. bed of moss. cannot sleep here with the trees and silver slips of moon shining on the grey grasses. curved blade of the moon shines quietly violent in the nothingness the stars struggle against the suffocating deepness of the black clouds. bending in the silver streams cast shadows hide the tears watering the grasses. blackness all my own wraps me warmly stealing breath from the dewy air. blood seeps into the brown trunk reclining its way across the path winding as a thread of earth through the grey coated leaves. curled away from the eyes of the lesser light whose blades of misty brightness lacerate the darkness cloth wrapping tighter around my chest. heaving struggling rasping breath gags on the cold wetness chill on back and neck. stillness settles, stifling the sounds of the struggle within. slowing the steady rhythm of warmpth streaming through the numbing body. drifting away from the grass, the stream, the moonlight...drifting home.

you said...

you said you beat up the other guy. you explained every blow. you gave us the play-by-play. you make jokes and we laugh, you tell stories and we listen. you tell us how strong you are. how unfair the fight was. how unfairly you have been used. you tell us how she hurt you, and how strong you are for taking it. you tell us how you give her your strength. you tell us how you give us your strength.

we say...

you dont need to be strong for us. we already love you. you are already our friend. you do not need to prove your strength, capability, deservingness. you dont have to carry our burdens. we dont ask you to be something more. you dont have to be our entertainment. you rush to tell us your story..."here is my story and all that i am..." "now that you know me, you cant leave me." youve had to be strong. youve had to be enough. know that you dont have to be anything for us to continue to love you. thats it, youre in, sorry hon, you cant get out of it now. weve got you.

all im saying is that you neednt worry. we will listen, we will talk, we will be here when you need us. because...we are friends.

valley...

i was headed down. through the trees, around the rocks, splashing through the cold mountain streams, and into the fading golden light. leaves crunched and sticks cracked loudly under my bare feet and the moss was soft and cool. i gently caressed the lichen spotted trunks as i balanced on their roots in the cooling evening. chill began to settle, and the air became wet with the dew that drifted in and out with each breath. the rocks grew sharper, and the darkness deeper. the cold stars shone on night-blackened leaves as i wandered, darkness settling, stifling hope that flared with the last of the sun's light. now i was lost...and the darkness whispered. speaking of the evils it held in its midst. threatening of the things unknown and nameless. slippery, the leaves underfoot threatened to pull me down onto the sharp rocks and tear the tender flesh of my knees. tears streamed down my face as the moon watched my stumbling deep in the trees. stabbing through the openings in the leaf latticed sky. i couldnt see. i fell. bruised and broken, i lay in the wet leaves in the ditch that cut deep into the valley, cradling my limp form. i couldnt rise for the weight of the the blackness, soft, smothering, suffocating.

i woke to the morning light streaming through the windows. the coolness of the room seemed to echo my memory of the nightdark. stretching, i turned over, waiting for the alarm to sound to signal the official arrival of my day. for that moment of inexistence, where there were no demands, no reasons, nothing but the covers and the crisp morning, i was new. yet i remembered the darkness wrapping me tighter like a cold, black sheet, slowly constricting my chest...and then i knew that somehow, during the night, i had left the ditch. i had left the damp, wet leaves, and i had begun to climb. upways again toward the rising lightness in the east. it was not my own strength that pulled me from the ditch...the handmarks bruising my arms serve to betray the help of another. during the nightdark, he had pulled me out, and placed me where i may be able to once again climb towards the greater light; saving me from the cold indifference of the lesser.

to him: thank you.

i am tired

i am tired and restless. so much is different yet so much the same. i hate this time, this time where i feel like im teetering on a precipice and my stomach drops at each waver of balace as i lean further out over the edge. everything has been so incredibly hectic. i cant believe im back. last semester was all i knew, and now its so different. im going to run away. i wandered around campus, looking for someone, hoping someone would find me at this hour. i wanted to go down by the pond, i wanted to go somewhere, with someone...though i dont know who. i cant ask. i cant ask what i want to ask. i cant ask that of them. its not my place. its not my right. and asking would just be wrong. wrong for me. where shall i go now? where shall i wander...im so tired, yet i cannot sleep. im so hungry, yet i cannot eat. im so...lost right now. i dont know how, but thats what i feel like. this is the strangest feeling right now. im just so...stressed, i guess. eh, maybe the toga party in catacombs will help. i cant wait til open dorms...and im not really sure why.

so i walked outside today....

...on my break and i sat down on this nice little bench on campus. i suddenly realized that, though i had the entire bench to myself, i was seated off to the right. i wondered about this...it was like i left a space for someone. then i realized that i sleep on the right side of the bed. and i sleep on my right side. i am right-winged, right-handed, and right-sided. i must have the aisle on my right-hand side, and when i get into the backseat, i must sit on the right. i drive with my right hand, even though i drive stick. i carry my purse on my right shoulder and when i cross my arms guess which is on top? yep.

hmm. i left a space. like i was saving someone a seat. maybe someday i'll find that person who goes on my left. the person i've always saved a spot for.

that four-letter word

is it a list? a long iteration of qualities and talents that is checked off at every meeting and opportunity? a "best fit deal?" a 'well, you fit 82% of the requirements, so i guess you win' thing?

or is it a set of scales? with one side labeled 'good' and the other 'not so good.' with qualities that fill up each dish and the final judgement witheld til the end. a good vs. bad thing?

or is it a hiding place? a sweet and quiet niche where you place your hopes and dreams. a secret room where you wait quietly for another to care enough to seek you out and find you, then you sit and talk forever. and there's no rush, and you have the rest of your lives. you slowly show them around the room, letting them see each hope, each fragile dream. and they do not laugh, or jeer, or roll their eyes. but merely smile and listen with honest interest as it comes softly shining in each other's eyes.

this is the newest addition to our family. her name is Isabella, but we call her Belle. she's about 3 months old and is about the size of my dog, a border collie named Sammie. sorry about the lack of wit in this post. i just didnt feel up to it.

The Parting Glass

All the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm I've ever done
Alas,It was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now,I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Goodnight and joy be to you all!

Fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate'er befalls
Then gently rise and softly call
Goodnight and joy be to you all!

Of all the comrades that e'er I had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had
They'd wish me one more day to stay.
Since it fell into my lot
that I should rise,and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call
Goodnight and joy be to you all!

But since it fell into my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call
Goodnight and joy be to you all!

So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate'er befalls
Then gently rise and softly call
Goodnight and joy be to you all!

closing song to waking ned divine

whispered

tiptoe carefully, there are people sleeping on the floor. the warm wooden floor smoothed by two hundred years of wear. two hundred years of bare feet scuffling through the night. the billowy white curtains recall clouds in their folds and ruffles, gently wrapping the windows that frame the cool darkness. how many people have fallen in love in this room? how many people have danced, talked, kissed? how many people have cried in this room? how many children have run their hands across the logs that make up the wall of this room? tender, young hands on the raw, rough wood. how close i can feel the past...i can feel them crowding around, warming their snow-numbed hands and feet around the stone hearth while the smell of warm drink floats in from the kitchen. their murmurings are muffled by the veil of time that shrouds the shadows that they cast on the darkened walls. and their whispers gently stir the sleeping people on the floor.

skybluepink

how can you tell when the world cycles back and begins again?
how can you tell when the dreams you can't remember come true?

love is a fickle thing...
we throw it away so cheaply then wonder why we cannot find it again, we wonder why no one means what they say...we wonder if we will ever really know someone.

...im searching for contentment, but these dreams keep getting in my way

it sucks to not be in love...

i havent seen much of my mom, considering our schedules are perfect opposites, and i tend to spend days at a time away from home...tonight she asked me "so who are you in love with?" ...caught a bit off guard...i dont usually speak of these things with my mother, but dad's not around so i decide to open up a little. the truth is, im not in love with anyone. its a strange predicament...considering i have always had some guy to crush on since first grade. so she asks "who would you like to be in love with?" and i wonder why i have so many answers to that question....and none to the other.

im bored

Lauren's Aliases

Your movie star name: Kix Ray

Your fashion designer name is Lauren Rome

Your socialite name is Lorelai Vegas

Your fly girl / guy name is L Kin

Your detective name is Fox Sherando

Your barfly name is Apple Smirnoff

Your soap opera name is Elizabeth Scepter

Your rock star name is Hersheys Vette

Your star wars name is Lausam Kinand

Your punk rock band name is The Resignation Telephone

The Amazing Meganame Generator

im a bird.

venom

i felt so stupid. so weak and childlike. so silly. sure dad left. but he would come back. he never left for more than a few days. i shouldnt be worrying so much. what kind of faith do i have that i worry about such things, when i know that God will take care of me and provide me with all that i need? what kind of faith is that to be afraid? but i was. i really was. "no youre not" the voice said. "you just mime fear to get sympathy and comfort. you are selfish and a liar." its venemous whispers plauged my mind. shamed me. cursed me. and i believed them. i berated myself...scolded my feelings of fear and anxiety. but no matter how much i tried to stamp out the embers, they burned still in my heart and in my mind. "fool!" the voice screamed. "fool! child! idiot! you say you trust your Father but still you fear? what is your faith? your faith is worthless if this is how you feel!" and again, i believed.

dad came back.

and the voice laughed in triumph. "there, see! you doubted and feared in vain! your feelings were unfounded and selfish, and you the more worthless for having them." again, i berated and cursed myself.

i try to fight it off, but it remains, lurking in the corners of my mind. hiding in the shadows of what i am afraid to bring to the light. waiting for the chance to strike, waiting for weakness...and my strength is failing. i must stay alert, wary of its presence and of its intentions, or it will gain ground. it will overwhelm me and bring me down. this voice has teeth...and they often drip with my blood and tear the flesh of my heart. for my heart is the target of these firey darts. of these sharp teeth. but my strength is failing.

Lord, i give this voice to you. judge it as you will, and return it not to me.

dad's back

my dad is gone. he left yesterday. we think hes in pennsylvania. he left because he saw how abusive (verbally) he was being, and didnt want to hurt us anymore. we dont know when hes coming back.

i think im going to try for the job at petsmart. i cant leave until dad gets back. it may be a week, it may be a month. we dont know. i used to think that he would never leave us for good...that he loved us too much. however, his love for us may actually make him leave. im optimistic that he will come back...he tends to be a little ADD at times, and gets bored with things easy. i want to say that i hope he comes back soon...but i dont really know.