Author: Amanda Miller

Nonetheless by Wesley Yeager

Nonetheless by Wesley Yeager

Wesley Yeager

Nonetheless

 

Her eyes watch you, staring deeply into your soul.
But you don’t see her.
You survey yourself daily and primp while she laughs.
But you don’t hear her.

She is there nonetheless.

Through your eyes she can see your secrets.
But you don’t know it.
She probes your mind while you are unaware.
But you don’t feel it.

In the corner of your eye you can see her.
But you ignore it.
She appears in front of you every day.
But you forget it.

She changes things occasionally, just for you.
But you don’t notice.
She screams at you, tries to terrify you.
But you don’t listen.

You can feel her sometimes, after a scary movie.
But you push it aside.
You feel her eyes staring across the room.
But you just try to sleep.

In the middle of the night you wake, sweating.
But you don’t think of her.
She sends shivers down your spine, chilling you.
But you rationalize instead.

She stands in your mirror, watching your life.
But you ignore her.
Until one day, she has you convinced she’s fake.
You go about your day.

That is when the mirror changes, it doesn’t reflect.
But you are asleep still.
It opens and she walks through, over to your bed.
You stir slightly, anxious.

She lifts you into her arms, gently as a lover, out of bed.
You smile to yourself.
And she carries you across the threshold, the mirror black.
You feel damp, cold.

You wake and scream, pounding against the mirror in vain.
She has your life.
You see her living on the other side, living the life you once had.
You beg and plead.

But she is there nonetheless.

Dreams by Rachael Marion

Dreams by Rachael Marion

Rachael Marion

Dreams

I take a deep breath and dive right under
I swim through the sifting sands
A scorpion glides right up to me
And pinches me in the toe
I scoop him up in my hands
Feeling the ripples above me sway
I let him go; he slides away.

Swimming along these strange lands
I wonder what I am to do
My breath is short; I lose my place
Falling ever under
A figure helps me surface, but who?
Gasping for air, I search all about
Feeling the loss of the one I’m without.

I’m in a new dream
There’s water around me now
But I fly, not swim
I have wings so silver they gleam
Yet again I don’t know how
I sense him floating around me
I see who it is, oh how can that be?

My one, my love!
My heart burst with joy
But how? I thought he had passed
I don’t care how he’s alive
All that matters is that I love this boy
I drift into his arms
He promises to protect me from harms.

But then he’s gone
I am alone and I cry
Why must nothing go my way?
I just want him back
Through all my wants I sigh
I know all the problems my wants will make
So slowly, sadly, I wake.

Mirror, Mirror by Vikki Rowe

Mirror, Mirror by Vikki Rowe

Vikki Rowe

Mirror, Mirror

I stared into the blue eyes of my reflection, twisting and kneading my short black hair. Though the bathroom was vacant of anyone else, I knew he was here. I could feel him.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

I could feel him twisting and slithering like a large serpent in the space around me. I closed my eyes as I heard his crooning voice whisper at the nape of my neck.

“Because I’m afraid you’re lonely, Holly.”

“I-I’m not lonely. Mother says you aren’t real,” I rebutted; however, my voice offered no confidence in this as it trembled and creaked beneath my nerves.

“You can hear me talking, can’t you? What? Are you going deaf now?”

I could feel my head sink with defeat as he was right. I could hear him.

“No. I can hear you. But…but she can’t.”

“I’m not talking to her now, am I?” he purred.

I shivered at the thought of him behind me; a large predator encircling his prey.

“No…you’re not. You’re talking to me.”

My submission was evident in the arrogance of his words. He was winning.

“Precisely. I can’t leave you alone, Holly. I won’t leave you alone. Then you’ll fall to every lie she tells you. She doesn’t love you. You know that, right? Every little thing she tells you is shit. And you believe it.”

I love mother. He was not allowed to speak to her as such!

“No…no…not always. She sounds so-”

He spun me around and I could finally see the demon lurking from the shadows. He was a slender man with black hair that was always hidden beneath a towering top hat and icy blue eyes that relayed every ounce of fear I was attempting to conceal.

“Truthful? Holly, Holly, Holly… lies are always meant to sound truthful. That’s why they’re lies. If they didn’t sound truthful, why would you believe them? Why would you fall for it every time, like you do? It’s a shame really…if I weren’t here, think of how daft you would be? It must be nice to live in an ignorant bliss, Holly.”

As he spoke the smile never left his face, only seeming to widen at the thought of his words impacting into my skull.

“But…I’m happy,” I said, softly. I wasn’t happy. How could I be? Mother was lying to me.
“That’s because I’m here. She’ll take me away. Then you’ll be alone with her lies. You’ll be happy with her lies. Is that what you want? Holly? Is it?”

He placed his firm hands on my shoulders as he spoke and I felt safe. He could never hurt me. He loved me. He was telling me the truth.

We both hesitated, hearing the rustling from down the hall and her footsteps soft upon the carpet.

“Holand! Who are you talking to?” she called.

I looked up at him and in that second I didn’t want to be left alone with her. What if she kept lying to me? His smile softened and he stood aside, never releasing his grip on me. “No one mother! I’m talking to myself!”

Death Sentence by Wesley Yeager

Death Sentence by Wesley Yeager

Wesley Yeager

Death Sentence

The chair felt like any other, cold at first, and then the longer one sat on it the warmer it became. It had handgrips that sadly showed their years quite prominently; such a variety of men and women whose very fingers had clutched these arms. The scrapes and dings on the surface of the chair showed its personality. Each scratch held a treasured story as tenderly as a mother holding new life. Yet in its whole life, this chair had only seen the darkness of man.

Extinguished by Keirston Rinehart

Extinguished by Keirston Rinehart

Kierston Rinehart

Extinguished

Life is…

when the autumn leaves fall from the tree,
preparing for dormant winter months.
A unique silence fills the crisp air.
The impalpable breeze flows through his skin.
This may be the last time.
His wrinkled skin mimics the leaves on the ground,
dead, old, and decomposing.
His heart breaks, much like the foliage.
His loving soul is being crushed by the season,
destined for more, he knows.
Don’t let him be forgotten
for is he leaving this world. Without notice.
Extinguished.

 

Untitled: Depression never lifts a finger… by Benjamin Fisher

Untitled: Depression never lifts a finger… by Benjamin Fisher

Benjamin Fisher

Untitled: Depression never lifts a finger…

Depression never lifts a finger, but rage—

                        IT

                                    Moves

                                                MOUNTAINS

            So says Lavinia; sliced tongue

            fingers and thumbs drawing

            clumsily

                        in

                                    the

                                                SAND

Praying for anger is not the same as angry prayers.

            Stay focused on the places you’ll go past,

beyond,

            without me.

The strong follows the weak now, wobbly steps

that will

            become more sure, but the weak can

only follow for

                        so long.

            Let the tide take the message away because

everyone hears, no one accepts—

            but who will be remembered longer,

            Achilles or Astynax?

Soldier by Star Dodson

Soldier by Star Dodson

Star Dodson

Soldier

Training intensely
Minding willfully
Trusting completely
Planning fearfully
Rising forcefully
Walking quietly
Sweating profusely
Watching cautiously
Beating rapidly
Praying sincerely
Aiming precisely
Standing steadfastly
Weighing instantly
Shooting orderly
Killing suddenly
Grieving instantly
War

I Dance the Dance of Life by Kafi Cunningham

I Dance the Dance of Life by Kafi Cunningham

Kafi Cunningham

I Dance the Dance of Life

Idance the dance of life like Indians dance their dance for rain
The life that I loved for 34 years left me despite my dance
I saw the life leave those doe brown eyes
I felt his cinnamon skin change from pain sensitive softness to rock hard rigor
Rainbows in my tears
Rainbows in raindrops clinging to windowpanes

A Ring for Lilly by Kimberly Bingheim

A Ring for Lilly by Kimberly Bingheim

Kimberly Bingheim

A Ring for Lilly

His stomach turned, his knees were weak, as he moved closer to the front door. He began to think about her smile and the scent of her hair. His fingers wrapped around the metal handle and he pulled open the heavy door. This is it, he thought as he walked inside.
“Hi, how can I help you, young man?”
The woman standing behind the glass display gave a small grin with her crimson lips. Her hair was grey with streaks of white and pulled back into a smooth French twist. She wore a light blue pant suit with a silk blouse. Three separate bracelets adorned each wrist, matched to the multitude of gold diamond rings decorating her beautifully manicured fingers.
“I’m here to buy a ring. An engagement ring,” he said, his voice shaking. He could hardly believe the words were coming out of his own mouth.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. My name is Linda and I’ll be helping you out today,” she said as she held out her hand for him to shake. Her fingers were cold and clammy.
“How long have you known the lucky lady?”
“Two years.”
“How nice.”
She smiled, this time large enough to expose smudged lipstick that had somehow made its way onto her two front teeth.
“The engagement rings are right down here.”
The mass quantities of jewelry clinked together as she pointed towards a display to her far left.
As he walked towards the display he felt his heart beating again.
“What’s your girlfriend like?”
He thought for a moment, his mind began racing through every detail. Her hair smooth, black and wavy, bounced over her soft round shoulders. It reminded him of ocean waves moving over the smooth beige sand of a beach. He thought about his favorite day of the week, Sunday, when they would lie in bed the whole morning. She was usually dressed in nothing more than small pink bikini cut underwear and a tiny tank top. Her smile made her even more stunning as she rolled around in the sheets, laughing intensely at all his stupid jokes. He thought of her kiss, slow, soft, sensual, capped off with the faint taste of mango lingering on her tongue.
Not being able to explain his thoughts to Linda, he simply told her, “She loves to laugh and she loves the beach.”
“Okay, what about this one here?” Linda pulled out a modest diamond atop a smooth white gold band.
Taking the ring, he examined it. It was lovely, but he knew he could do better.
“Hmm…” He looked down at the collection of rings meticulously scanning every detail. Then he saw it.
“What about that one there?”
Linda slowly pulled out the ring and sat it on the glass. It was white gold with a large princess cut diamond. A row of diamonds moving from large to small lined each side.
“How much is it?” He was scared of the answer, but knew no matter what the price Lilly deserved more.
“The engagement ring alone is thirty-five hundred dollars.”
Twenty minutes later he left the store with a small white box, along with three thousand five hundred dollars of debt. Getting into his car, he let out a deep breath and smiled.
When his car turned onto his street, he saw Lilly’s green Nissan parked outside of the small two story townhouse they shared. He slowly made his way to the front door. His nerves began to set in, and he paused for a moment. His pulse was racing, his breathing labored.
Taking the ring out, he looked at it once more, scrutinizing every feature. It appeared perfect, but upon closer examination he noticed a smear on the underside of the ring. Using his t-shirt, he promptly wiped away the imperfection.
“Perfect,” he said replacing the ring in its box, and slowly slid it into his pocket.
You can do this, just act normal, he told himself. He peered inside the small window on the top of the door, but saw nothing. After opening the door, the sound of music trickling down from the second floor struck him instantly. Wanting to catch his Lilly dancing in front of the mirror, one of her favorite mid-morning rituals, he darted up the stairs.
The door was open a crack. Trying not to disturb her mid-dance, he silently moved towards the room while peering inside. That’s when he saw her. She was not dancing; on the contrary, she was lying on the bed stomach down, every part of her perfect beige skin exposed to the air. A cigarette lay between her lips. He moved his hand to open the door, but in that moment he heard a voice. His hand stopped short. The voice had come from inside the room.
“Thanks, babe,” he heard a man say from the other side of the door.
Feeling the anger rising through his core, he used every ounce of will he had to hold back from storming the room. His hand moved over top of his pant pocket, clutching the box inside.
The man on the other side of the door was wearing a pair of untied blue and white shorts. Moving into sight, the man walked to the bed and slapped Lilly’s soft, round behind. Her shoulders shrugged, her mouth formed a smile and she began to laugh.
Wiping his tears, he turned abruptly, and made his way down the stairs. As his stomach was sinking, his soul became flat, and his world empty. He set the white box on the table next to a little glass bowl containing left-over shriveled mango peels, and walked out the door.