child-of-the-nighttime-stars

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

2 Years Into College

(Inspired from the song "2 Days Into College")

I'm 2 years into college and I'm 3 work shifts behind.

My friends and all my loved ones say that I'm losing my mind.

But that doesn't really sit with me quite right,

Since I'm not too sure what it's like,

Not to lay questioning every little thing well into the night,

When I wake I'm always shaking and it's so hard to hold,

Despite all I'm taking though in the end it's not that bold,

I always hated trouble,

But couldn't bear the fallout's rubble,

So I try to speak,

Hope for something not so bleak,

As my life unfolds,

'Cause everyone around me says I'm doing all I can,

Yet in my own mind and heart, I fail to understand,

That I can rest,

Take a breath,

This is my best,

At my own behest,

"I'm okay,"

"It'll all work out anyway"

It doesn't pass my mind that I am still so young,

It's okay to not know how every little thing is run,

"You've got time..."

But do I have time...?

#poetry #poem #i wrote a thing #i wrote a poem #small stories #prompt #prompts #prose poem #writing prompt #short story

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

Footsteps

No one knows how I lay in bed and listened for the footsteps,

I'd lie in bed and listen,

Past the muffled noise of late-night TV ads,

For any kind of noise,

Whether that be his voice, talking to himself or the arguments in his head,

Or how the floorboards creak beneath the rug,

There's a difference, it's louder when he wears shoes, but still deafening to hear him approach,

Steps become thunder as they lurch up the stairs,

Despite my trembling body, rigor mortis sets in

Stiff, unnatural, a sure way to be caught,

It wasn't just his, but all of their footsteps,

Their patterns at night, even in broad daylight,

I was a child then,

With time and age, the skill began to fade,

For I didn't need it, not as much, as I once did

Normalcy set in,

Happy home, quiet steps,

Startling yet not unwelcome,

Is this what I should feel?

Is this what I deserve?

I am now 22,

But my skill still persists,

Now I lie in bed, with a door that can close,

One threat may be gone, but the need is far from over,

So I listen,

Past the muffled noise of late-night TV ads,

For any kind of noise,

Now it's screaming from cyber fights or talking to strangers that may not exist,

For the way the sheets rustle as his weight shifts,

Or the way the chair creaks, depending on where he sleeps,

I can discern when he stands, even as carpet covers the floor,

Is it to go get a cigarette,

Or is he going to come to me for something more,

Steps become thunder as they lurch up the stairs,

Even now rigor mortis sets in, my body twitches and spasms,

Stiff, unnatural, a sure way to be caught,

But begging for release

For freedom,

For safety,

They say they aren't the same,

Far from it,

Yet being met with them,

Why I am encompassed with the same fear?

The same dread.

Though you may not share the appearance of the monster I knew,

You share the same actions,

The same footsteps too...

#poetry #poem #i wrote a thing #i wrote a poem #small stories #prompt #prompts #prose poem

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

I'm not crying over spilled milk, I'm crying over the FUCKING AUDACITY of this bitch.

#writing prompt #inspiration #short story #prompt #dialogue prompt #dialogue

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

"College Kids are Nicer"

"College kids are nicer"

That's a quote I have heard since I was bullied in middle and high school. But I never believed it.

"They won't care about your looks or how you walk, you're all in the same boat."

That's what the adults would say whenever I got anxious about my robot legs or needed to use a cane for a few days. They said that in high school before I was mocked relentlessly for such things. It wasn't everyone. It wasn't even many people. But those few voices were always the loudest.

I was so crippled, not by my physical disability but by what they had told me. It was to the point I told my mom I wouldn't return to high school until I was fixed.

It's been 2 years since I graduated. I graduated a year late because my high school refused to give me tutors when I was bedridden before and after a life-changing surgery. Now I've been in college for these 2 years, and things have changed my view.

I've met with those who knew me back in primary school. Some of them were sweethearts that had just been ships passing in the night between classes. Some of them were people I thought were too cool for me while they thought I was too cool, we then became friends finally over our courses. And finally, some were people who did actively threaten me only to now smile at my face and tell me I look great. I smile and say thanks, but quickly keep them at arm's length.

But living as a person with a disability that's visible, I know what to expect. I still get glances of questioning, blatant asks about what's going on with me and offers to help. Although, the overall vibe is different.

The majority of the time, I don't feel those glances are glares of judgment. The tone of the question doesn't usually hold the mocking spirit it once did. I no longer feel like a creature in a zoo or an object to cast pity points or a catalyst for a good deed for the day.

Perhaps, it's because of the new environment. Maybe it's because I have gotten treatment to process the bullying and my general depression. But this eye-opening like many others is by an experience.

It was the 20th of February when I got the call. The power had gone out. It was 8 something and I wanted to hear a cancellation since my precious sleep was disturbed. But there was no such fortune for me on this sunny day.

So I stayed awake and checked my email for any cancellations from my professors. Again, no luck. So the day continued as normal, including my ride with my mom and our weekly tradition of eating lunch from the Quickcheck deli.

It was only when I got to campus did misfortune finally glance my way. I walked the elevator with my drink in one hand and the handle of my backpack in the other. (The signature backpack of those who're disabled or simply DON'T WANT TO THROW OUT THEIR BACK)

I cursed under my breath, not because I couldn't walk up stairs. I walk up or down a flight every day in my apartment. Expletives were running through my head because dragging a 10 to 12 pound bag is no fun for anyone who isn't a weight lifter.

I hated asking for help, not because I'm stubborn but because I was fearful of the judgemental onlookers. But as the security told me the sorry state of the elevator, I begrudgingly asked if he could help. But before he could answer, another guy did.

He wasn't overly enthusiastic as many teacher pets had been when their master couldn't be bothered. His blue eyes weren't glaring me down like those who wanted to seem good to the world as they secretly loathed people of my state. He was just kind in his offer, I didn't feel like a burden.

So I accepted. We made a pleasant conversation about what the campus brought that morning and how the other was. But as I arrived at my destination 2 floors later, he smiled and wished me well. I did the same, overwhelmed by this genuine warmth. But then he left, I don't think I even got his name...

It was after class when I was facing my nemesis once more. I was prepared to thunk-thunk-thunk all the way down to the basement. Judgement could be damned, I only had 10 minutes to walk across campus. But this time, there was a girl.

She also asked if I wanted help. Again, there was no overt enthusiasm. There was no pity or veiled aggression. So I gratefully accepted. This time we talked about the elevator. She said specifically that she thought of me. I didn't recognize her. But then she said how fucked up it was that they'd allow classes when not everyone could access them. I wondered what she meant, if she knew me, or if she was just a decently thoughtful person. I instead made a shitty pun about getting my steps in for the day.

She only walked me down 1 floor and I didn't have the heart to ask for another. I instead pointed in the general direction of the building I was headed to and asked about her. She pointed to a building only a few yards away. I smiled, thinking it was a good call not to ask anyway, I'd feel bad. So I thanked her, and wished her well, she did the same, and we went our separate ways. I didn't get her name either...

I reached my building much easier on this route, perhaps I could start using it as my main route if the weather kept up. The door was held open for me and again I said thank you. But before long I ran into my arch-nemisis' lost lover: Stairs part 2 electric boogaloo...

But before I could begin the disharmonious song of thumping and thinking. a classmate appeared. This time I knew his name: James. And again he extended the same genuine offer. I honestly wasn't expecting it! He was so chill about it, remarking on how I wasn't late for once. (I always am to our class due to that damn first elevator) I blamed it on such, my voice cracked as I struggled to maintain steady steps and steady breathing. I prayed that he didn't notice.

When we reached the floor of our class, I fully expected him to plop my bag down and just walk off. He'd done his good deed, he'd done more than enough. Yet he carried my bag all the way to class before departing to his usual seat in class.

Once again, I thanked him as I sat myself down and set up for class and all I could think after reflecting was:

"College kids are nicer"

#writing inspiration #i write #writing #writing prompt #writers #prose #nice things #stay positive #positive #body posititivity #short story

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

Six years have passed, In this world, feelings don't usually last, But my heart still trembles and my body still shakes, Every time I'm in your wake, Not because of a mainly flustered state but from anticipation, Your well-being has become my greatest temptation, Joy is an understatement whenever I'm with you, You're my reason to be excited for whatever life puts me through,

Three simple words is more than enough, But saying the depths of my heart is still rather tough, You deserve so much more, Because you are my one of my life's cores, Through and through, you are my sunlight, The one with who I want to spend my every night, Again I love you is more than enough for what I want to say, But thank you for being my gift this Valentine's day <3

for: @cydanite

#poem #poetry #positive #love poem #valentine's day #writing #romance

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

I Tried...

I confronted you, and you shot back that everything in my life was a waste, My job, my schooling, my friends, and everything that made me feel safe, They're useless just like me and in your eyes, that'd always be the case, You shot back as nothing so sacred to me would ever be able to deflect your strafe,

You said it'd all be for nothing, that the people I love would tire and leave, Even if I got so far, I'd still fall short or so you believe, That means a lot from someone I used to hold so dear, Someone who now relies on me to make sure they can go a day without having their mind clear,

So yes your words hit their low target and did make my views falter, Making me wonder how I should change myself or what to alter, But even during this, I couldn't help to wonder why I cared, About someone who admits they're happy living in their own despair,

We all have our lows, Believe me that much I know, But the one difference between you and I, Is that when I die I can at least say that I tried...

#stay positive #poetry #poem #i wrote a thing #i wrote a poem #small stories #short story #okay to reblog #self accepectance #late night writing

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

A Summer's Day

I want to kiss her, Similarly to the way the sun does, Over every inch of silken skin, Leaving her basking in a darker glow,

I want to grip and hold her, In the way that the Summer heat will, Her body burning beneath a sheen of sweat, Leaving her overwhelmed, knowing nothing but more warmth will provide any true relief,

I want to carry her, Just like the soft white clouds do, Sweeping her away from any worries and doubts, if only temporarily Leaving the hardness in her eyes to melt and flutter shut with peace,

I want to love her, Just like the brightest blue sky above us, Watching how the blue can fade, a downpour can come, and how it can reveal true beauty behind the rain, Leaving the insecurities in her heart washed away down a gutter drain,

I want to love her, Like that of a typical Summer's day, Warm, unyielding, blunt and brash, Leaving her to know that she'll never be alone even if she can't feel the same way...

#prose poem #poetry #poem #i wrote a thing #i wrote a poem #small stories #love #okay to reblog #love poem #love story #short poem

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

Tales Between The Sun and Moon

She was the sun, Natural and gold, Wrapped within the soft grey of clouds, One may think by her they were shunned, Or they found her burning beauty to be getting old,

Yet she didn't really care and wasn't one for crowds. One may think she was alone with only her work and her thoughts, She did all she could making days bright and helping things to grow, Her presence was always there and always stunning but never loud, But there was something that nobody seemed to know,

She had a lover, one who many forgot, A girl who was the moon, a solace that many sought, Yet only those who lay awake yearning ever saw her, Luminescent and dazzling in her own right, A girl who banished the very dark of the night,

The sun reflected from afar just how the start of their love occurred, Even within the shadows, her love glistened like no others, Distance made things hard but they whispered through the breeze, On the nights she'd vanish, there'd be an ache in Sun for her shine, Surprise shocked her upon hearing, "Without you, there'd be no point in mine..."

#love #poetry #poem #small stories #i wrote a thing #i wrote a poem #poetry on tumblr #love poem #love story #short story #sweetheart #okay to reblog

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

The Art of the Argument

Burn the colors off the page,

As a hole grows inside festering with seething rage,

A knee-jerk reaction and unthought words,

Send the frail trust I shared with you soaring like birds,

You apologize over and over until the sound sputters out,

All while I comfort you when holding in the need to shout,

I want to take the knife and twist it in your bleeding heart,

Turn your blood and tears into a new kind of art,

A piece that could make you actually proud,

A piece that could convey the anger I know not to say aloud,

But just like the joyous colors burnt to ash,

The searing rage I feel also doesn't last,

You apologize again,

But this time it's meaning I can actually comprehend,

So dry your tears,

And let my softened words ease your ceaseless fears,

For in the end, it is all okay,

As the silence washes over us it drowns out all that we should and shouldn't say,

#writing #late night writing #poetry #poem #i wrote a thing #i wrote a poem #small stories #sad poem #love poem #remorse #argument

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

Perceptions and Misconceptions

I am a nineteen-year-old girl who has Cerebral Palsy. When people hear about my disability, they automatically think that it is a mental disability. It also doesn't help that I try to be as friendly as I can be just because I know the world is rough and you never know what a person is going through. This then leads people to believe I am naïve and/or just stupid.  Then when they see that I move slower or am shaky with my movements, people will believe I am incapable or not entirely human to the point that others are.

When it comes to correcting them, it is a fine line. I want to correct them in an eloquent and polite way so that they can see that I am intelligent and capable despite my physical limitations. Also, I want them to see that my kindness is a choice and not the only thing I know because I'm too 'innocent' to know how to be cruel. But because these misconceptions are so widespread by those who don't know me and do not want to take the time to realize their views may be wrong, it can be frustrating.

So another part of me wants to lash out and return the blatant cruelty that's inflicted upon me when these people do not listen to my polite explanation. I want to show that I am capable of ignorance just as they are, to scream explicative words and insult those who insult me. But in the end, I KNOW that doing so would not make these people view me in any higher capacity. So even though it takes a lot of self-control, if those cannot dispel their misconceptions even after sharing my own views, I choose to simply let it go since I cannot change the views of those who do not want to change. I then just go on with my own life the best that I can to prove to myself that I am just as capable.

Those who are worth my time will see that despite my physical differences, I am just like them.

#writing #food for thought #writing prompt #i wrote a thing #school writing #disabledlife #disabled problems #small stories

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

LOOK AT THIS AMAZING ART MY DUDES!!

#FRENS ART #LOOKIT

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

Over-Protective

He was closed in a box,

By his own god,

She possesses the key,

But still doesn't let him out,

He can't breathe in there,

But if she were to talk more, his world would end

His words are paused between his panting,

The gasps come off as lovely to her when they should be threatening

His voice grows soft as she coos about his freedom,

Yet even as silence comes over him, her box won't ever open...

#poem #sad poetry #forbidden love #love story #poetry #i wrote a poem #i write things

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

A Loving Word of Advice

They cast you a simple glance and your heart began to race, They simply uttered your name and you fell on your face, Idiot, They're just nice you should know, It'll never change and you should just accept it so,

Don't expect a thing you know, You'll end up getting hurt, Don't assume a thing, Yes, I know that I'm sounding curt, I beg you don't expect a thing, You'll end up getting hurt, Don't you dare assume... Idiot.

They'll never fall for you, It's just not within your cards, Just get that within your head, It really shouldn't be so hard, Just move on and have self-respect, Do you not have any? 'Cause aren't you tired of all these tears already?

That's why: Don't expect a thing, You'll end up getting hurt, Don't assume a thing, Yes, I know that I'm sounding curt, I beg you don't expect a thing, You'll end up getting hurt, Don't you dare assume... Oh, don't you dare assume...! Oh! Don't you dare assume...!! Idiot.

#original poem #love poetry #love poem #early morning writing #i write things #stuck in my head #a few words of advice #crushes

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

What Stirs You From The Stares of Your Nightmares

“It’s getting late, Grace. Are you ready for bed?” This simple phrase had become a staple part of the nightly routine.

The same could be said about the darkened circles around her mother’s eyes and the soft slur of her words when she spoke. Yet Grace had come to expect it. Just as she expected getting dressed into fuzzy pajamas. The pink set with flowers scattered on the bottoms was her favorite, even if they were missing a few buttons on the shirt and the drawstring within the pants. She then was tucked under a mountain of snuggly sheets and blankets. They were all different colors, textures, and sizes. A small detail that was easily missed within the darkness of bedtime but became apparent when they were balled into a lump during the day and each covering was too big or had shrunk too much to properly fit the mattress. Then finally being hugged tightly by her favorite teddy bear, Mr. Snugglesworth, before drifting off to the land of dreams.

Grace beamed as bright as the stars twinkling outside her window when she nodded at her mother. This earned her a subtle upward quirk of her mother’s lips in return before her mother began to usher the girl to her pantry of a bedroom. Grace was usually very eager to be tucked in, so as her feet began to drag across the shaggy carpet towards her room, her mother’s heart sunk into her stomach. Grace’s mother glanced down at the child but before she could even raise a heavy brow the young girl answered her wordless question.

“Daddy promised to tell me a story tonight! He said that he’d definitely do it tonight! He promised.” Grace’s words practically bounced at the prospect of her father telling her a story. So did the loosely tied, chocolate pigtails which rested on her shoulders.

Grace’s mother rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Her pedicured nails ran along Grace’s shoulderblade as if to smear away such a thought. “I don’t think your father’s gonna give you a good story tonight. He’s in one of his moods, as I’m sure you saw at dinner.”

“Yeah, but he can’t still be mad about work, can he? And-- And he promised! He promised to make up for the other night!”

A quiet sigh pushed past the painted lips of Grace’s mother. While the grip she had on her daughter’s shoulder grew a bit firmer. All to push the young girl through the cream-colored curtain that separated the living room from her daughter’s bedroom.

“Yes, well, Daddy makes a lot of promises he doesn’t intend to keep, sweetie. Why don’t you curl up with Mr. Snugglesworth and your other animal friends? I’m sure they’ll help you create an even better story than anything your father could come up with.”

Grace’s big brown eyes stared up at her mother’s clouded gray ones in an attempt to argue. But when her eyes met with her mother’s dull gaze and pursed lips, Grace’s sight fell to the floor.

“Okay, Mommy. But Mr. Snugglesworth and I don’t create the stories like you and Daddy make up.”

With the end of that discussion, Grace stumbled to bed and climbed in. Her mother covered her in a few blankets, but not all of them like she’d done the night before when her speech wasn’t slurred. Then she handed her daughter, the beloved Mr. Snugglesworth before casting her an, ‘I love you,’ and a, ‘goodnight,’ as she exited the room. Without any more conversation, there would be no noise. So it shouldn’t have been long before Grace’s thoughts lulled her to sleep.

But that had been over an hour ago. Instead of that sweet silence that would allow the noise within Grace’s little head to act as her own bedtime story and lullaby, there was screaming. It erupted from downstairs. The old, creaking floorboards had muffled it but not by much. Rather than the sweet stories of royalty and true romance that filled the room by Grace’s rushing thoughts, noise that seemed like nothing but nonsense exploded within the small girl’s even smaller bedroom.

“Goddamnit, Kimry! You’re absolutely shitfaced again!” She could hear her mother shout. This was followed by a quiet thud and then the sound of something shattering.

Grace remembered a little while ago when she and her mother were waiting for the bright yellow school bus one morning. She looked up to her mother and smiled when she noticed her gaze seemed brighter the night before. That was until Grace asked a question regarding it. She asked what her mother meant by the phrase, ‘good-for-nothing’ and why she kept yelling it at her father so late. Grace was curious as to what it meant, but she was more concerned about why her mother and father were being so loud during the quiet time for bed. The feeling of pedicured nails scratching at her scalp before they plucked at one of the braids her mother had crafted that morning lingered on Grace’s mind. She also remembered what her mother had instructed her to do if she did hear her or her father being loud during bedtime.

So Grace did just that. Her tiny stature scooched on the bed until it was pressed against the yellowing wallpaper which covered the chilled concrete wall. She then took the pillow that she had just abandoned and stuffed it on top of her head. Before she took Mr. Snugglesworth and clutched him in her trembling arms for dear life. She tried to lay as still as the floorboards which separated her from her parents, but Grace couldn’t help but jump when she heard her father shout.

“Listen here, bitch! I’m a grown man--”

“Grown man?” Her mother retorted, trying to stifle a humorless laugh, “You’re nothing but a drunk piece of shit who can barely hold down a job! You can’t even remain sober enough to tell your daughter a story for bed!”

When Grace heard her mother refer to her as just her father’s daughter, a heaviness began to weigh down on her heart. Why didn’t her mother use the word, ‘our?’ Grace had learned in school the other day the differences between possessive pronouns and the word ‘our’ seemed far more inclusive. Grace was her mother’s daughter as well and even when her mother and father were mad at each other, they were still a family.

“Oh, Grace wants a bedtime story? I’ll go tell her right now since you couldn’t be bothered to, you bitch!”

Grace shut her eyes tight and puffed out her cheeks to hold her breath. A small whimper managed to hum in the back of her throat though. As desperate as she was to have a story from her father before, she didn’t want one when he was this loud and angry. When he was like this his stories were also loud and angry. They told about her father’s times in war, the deaths he had seen, and the deaths he had caused. The endings were never happy either. If Grace got upset and began crying then her father would get angry and scream at her. So she didn’t cry now either, even though she wanted to. But she still remembered the times that her father would break down into tears himself at the end of his stories, so she would just hug him until he fell asleep and her mother had found them.

So that’s what she did for her teddy while she listened to her mother tell her father to stay away from both herself and Grace. Grace then began to scoot around her bed again. She laid the pillow by her window and kept her eyes on the blanket of stars just outside. They twinkled and swaddled the world within their blue little beams. She didn’t know how long she laid like this, staring at the shining specks. But it was long enough that her parents screaming had faded into silence once more and without even realizing it, Grace drifted off to the world of dreams.

When earthly irises opened once more, it wasn’t with a gentle fluttering. Instead, Grace’s eyes shot wide open as she thrust herself back into the land of reality. She took a desperate gasp of air as her eyes darted in every direction. Her terrified thoughts were scrambling to make sense of the surroundings that had become so dizzying from this sudden awakening. As her heartbeat began to calm its thrashing and her thoughts began to stall out; Grace was greeted by the small gleam of the stars which had put her to bed mere hours before.

Allowing herself to take a deep breath, Grace realized that their light and that of the moon were all she had. Her entire house had become drenched in darkness while she slept. Yet the shimmering stars combined with the waxing moon was enough to swaddle Grace and all that her wide-eyed gaze could see within comforting waves of pale blue light. Or, at least, such light would’ve been a comfort if it hadn’t been accompanied by a stern silence. Grace tilted her head with a raised eyebrow, searching for any kind of sound. Except there was not a single one to be heard. Unlike before, there was no screaming. There wasn’t even a low murmur like she had heard from her father many times before. Not a single door or floorboard groaned or creaked. Even Grace’s breath barely made a sound. It was like someone had come into Grace’s house and put everything on mute like her father had done to her favorite cartoons and songs whenever he decided he wanted to ‘talk.’ A small shudder ran down her spine as Grace clutched Mr. Snugglesworth against her in a one-armed embrace. She felt a small comfort as his matted fur scratched her cheek. She could feel the way her chest hastily rose and fell while shallow gasps filled the air. But even as she listened for them, not a single noise was heard. Although her mind was rushing to dismiss the demons within her dreams, even her thoughts were muted. Grace could only listen to the silent screaming of her instincts telling her it would be okay if she just hid away.

With Mr. Snugglesworth still snatched up in her trembling arm, she buried herself beneath the blankets. Although their weight only seemed to suffocate her rather than provide any of the security she desperately hoped for. Another small whimper stuck to the back of her throat while her brown eyes peeked over the pile. Between the gaps in her curtain, Grace stared out into her desolate living room. Another shudder crawled through her veins as the midnight blue light from the moon felt like it was swallowing her whole. As if its simple shade of serenity was only an act for the darkness in which the demons from her dreams thrived.

So she hid away once more until the warming weight of her blanket pile crushed not only her breath but whatever soft security she tried to create for herself. Although when her earthy irises peered outside of her small room once more, it wasn’t the tiring tranquility of the moonlight that met her sights anymore.

She stared down the cream-colored curtain which separated her bedroom from the rest of the house. It was heavy and scratched against Grace’s skin whenever she’d brush by it. In her mind, it acted as the barrier between her sanctuary and the rest of the world. Grace could see into the living room and the big, comfy, green couch that her mother deemed a throne, although no one seemed to be able to see her. This was a small fact that Grace usually loved when staying up past her bedtime but hated when she just escaped from the monsters lying deep within her memories. But as Grace’s flitting gaze peeked through the sliver of a gap on the right side of the doorway, someone’s dark stare captured her own.

This person’s sight seemed crafted from the ashes of charcoal. The intensity of their gaze acted as the unyielding embers that provided the faint light within them. It was as if this person’s leering eyes were trying to burn right through her very being. Compared with the wide smile that stretched against this person’s stubble-ridden cheeks, Grace couldn’t tell what the person was feeling, let alone what they wanted with her.

Still high from trying to tuck her dream demons back into their dark corners, Grace’s thoughts leaped from one idea to the next. Was this a bad guy from one of her mother’s crime shows? Could this be the scary stranger that Grace’s teachers warned her and all her classmates about? A silent gasp caught in the back of Grace’s throat while her body suddenly laid stiff against the plush pillow that cradled her back. It took her a minute to realize that the messy mop of hair and long gray robe that swayed in the still air belonged to her father.

This realization only made Grace’s chest feel that much heavier. Some part of her wanted to lift her hand, to beckon her father inside, and have him wrap her in one of the tightest hugs to feel some kind of comfort. Yet under her father’s searing gaze, she couldn’t move a muscle. She tried to will herself into even moving a finger although her body remained frozen.

“Daddy, I-I’m awake,” Grace wanted to whisper yet her breath remained locked behind her dried lips. The voice within her mind even remained as nothing more than a pitiful croak.

The only thing that Grace could feel while this staring contest continued was her insides. Her stomach was doing flips and chills ran up and down her spine. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, desperate to escape its cage and beat the breath out of the frail body it resided in. All the while her nerves were set alight beneath her father’s unblinking gaze, making her skin feel like thousands of invisible bugs were scurrying down her skin.

Seconds turned to minutes. Then minutes drifted into what seemed like an eternity to Grace as both bodies remain unmoving. As much as the darkness frightened her, Grace squeezed her eyes so tight that she could see the stars behind her eyelids. The silence that she had longed for hours before was beginning to creep under her crawling skin. It was to the point that Grace almost wished to hear the enraged arguing of her parents or just the mad murmuring from her father, anything that would drown out the smothering silence. Yet as harshly as her heart was pounding in her chest, not even that could be heard with her ears.

Grace waited for another eternity to pass before opening her eyes once more. It felt so long to her that surely the sun should be rising and her father will have retreated to the darkness of downstairs. But when her sight did reveal the world around her, the scene remained unchanged. Even her father’s expression remained as still as it had been before. His sneering smile was still stretched wider than Grace believed his mouth could go. While his sights remained stuck on her stature as if she wasn’t there at all.

The only thing that had changed was as another chill sprinted through her small bones, Grace could actually hear the subtle rustling of her mattress adjusting as her weight shifted. The sound rang in her ears as if it was the loudest sound that had ever graced them. It was such a shock that the breath she had been holding finally pushed past her chapped lips in the form of a gasp. Her eyes that had momentarily glanced towards her bed beneath her, darted back towards her father. Although his stance remained steadfast as if he was completely unaware.

Grace kept her eyes stuck on her father while she tried once more to move her fingers. Finding that she could, caused another breath to escape her lips. She started subtly by bringing her hand over her heart before draping it over Mr. Snugglesworth who was luckily still by her side. All the while she studied her father for any sign of change but her movements remained unnoticed. Grace then began to twist her torso to the right and away from her father. She cringed every time the mattress rustled then settled once more, fearing that one subtle sound would be what would make her father snap. Though like a statue, her father never flinched.

She took a deep breath before making her final movement. Despite it being the subtlest, it made Grace’s body tremble the most. Letting her right cheek squish against the pillow, Grace finally took her sights off of her father. She began breathing deeply, allowing her eyes to fall shut another time. She could still feel her father incinerating the fuzz of her pink pajamas with his unyielding gaze and the glint of his unfaltering smile flashed within her thoughts yet again. That pale moonlight that her father stood in startled her much more than the encroaching darkness that was driven to capture Grace in its embrace once more. But until dawn broke she could only hope that the small stars above would watch over her and keep her safe from the stares of her nightmares...

#prose #short story #small stories #sleep paralysis #i write things #late night writing #writing

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

The Friend You May Have Never Met

Hello, Wonderful,

How are you today? I’m not asking to simply be polite. I’m asking because I genuinely care! I know things may be chaotic in this ever-changing world, in your ever-changing life, but you’ll be able to navigate this. I know you can, and I believe in you! Even though we’ve never met, I want you to know I am here for you. Even when you feel that you have no support and the world is crashing, you’ll be in my thoughts. No matter how you grow, you will never be alone.

You’re probably wondering why a stranger to you would take the time to write such a sappy letter, aren’t you? Well, there’s so much negativity in the world and if I can make someone else’s day a little brighter then I’m doing something right, you know?

I just want you to know that you are such a splendid person who is growing so well despite what’s going on, what anyone tells you, or even what you tell yourself. You’re still here and that’s what matters. You got up today and managed to read my letter so that made my day a little brighter. So thank you for taking the time to do so! I hope that life grants you the happiness, wellness, and love you deserve and that every day only gets that much brighter for you!

But can you remember something for me? It’s something small, I promise! I want you to remember that everything will be okay eventually. You may not feel that way. Perhaps you haven’t felt that way in a while, and for that I am sorry. But let me remind you that things will work out and that one breath at a time will lead to one day at a time and that’s all you need. No matter what you do, I believe you’re going to do great. You don’t need the top grades, most productive days, or to meet everyone else’s standards every day. As long as you feel a bit of happiness in the day, as long as it’s not hurting yourself or anyone else, then that’s all I want for you.

You really are such a wonderful person, please don’t forget that. Well, I’ll let you go now but once again thank you for reading!

Sending all my love and well wishes,

~The friend you may have never met~

#short story #letter #mean a lot to me #letter to you #i write things

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

A Response To Those Wanting More

I'm just so confused,

As to why people want my nudes,

I'm flattered that you find my body appealing,

But your straight forward nature has my mind reeling,

They get me in private and that's the first thing they say,

What happened to buying me a drink or asking about my day,

Even then my body isn't something I'm looking to sell,

But, god forbid, I let them down easy or tell them to go to hell,

Their fury is burning and their words are hot coals,

As if I'm in the wrong or stomping on their poor souls,

For simply not wanting to send such intimate pieces for their nickles and dimes,

A warm body is a luxury darling, and mine is sublime,

So I won't say forgive me for covering it so,

The curves and small details are something only I should know,

I'm not some pearl you can take by ripping away the clam shell,

And I'm not a criminal for saving it for someone special...

#poetry #poem #writing prompt #i write things #writing #satirical #humorous #WHY DO STRANGERS ASK THIS??

[child-of-the-nighttime-stars]

The Medicine Cabinet

Rays of pure gold shone into the dusty window and made the whole room glitter. They made the room shine brighter, but not in a way that would provide comfort. The chips in the faded yellow tile were more noticeable. The rust which continued to creep down the shower pipe appeared thicker. Within the brighter light, the room felt hollow, like it was a stage for a set rather than one that was lived in. Perhaps that was because there wasn’t much to this room other than the normal bathroom standards of a toilet, bathtub, and a sink. 

There was another furniture piece. But I wasn’t allowed to look at it. At least, I hadn’t been allowed to before her passing. The rule had become so ingrained in my mind that ever since then, I simply continued to follow that rule. I followed it to the point that I forgot the piece was even there, even as my reflection stared back at me. But now, my reflection glared right through me as I approached the condensation-stained mirror. I no longer was that little kid. This no longer could be called my home. 

But to break such a rule that had essentially become sacred to my very being, felt wrong. My reflection also shared my feeling of disgusted shame when I reached my hand out to grasp the lower-left corner. My fingers slipped and my arm fell to my side once more. I offered my mirrored self a comforting smile to reassure them. The one they gave in return seemed even more half-hearted. A sigh broke through my tightly pursed lips as I reached out once more. I wasn’t that little kid. This home could no longer be called own. So, why? Why was it that I still trembled with the simple act of reaching forward?

I shook my head and gripped the lower-left corner once more, firmly this time. Yet my breath was caught in my throat when my fingers slipped to the very edge once more. Though it was with that slip that I had finally broken the one rule I had maintained all my life. There was a quiet creaking as the small door swung open. I flinched at the sound which left my hand to fall by my side once more. But finally, after all this time, the contents behind the silvery glass were revealed. 

Before my eyes were four cramped shelves, littered with dust-filled bottles and disintegrating boxes. All of them scribbled on with thick, charcoal-colored sharpie telling about various needs, circumstances of usage, and dates of years that had long become as dusty as the bottles themselves. It was at this moment that it truly broke me. I never was that little kid. This never could be called my home. Reaching out my hand one more time, I took hold of a bottle that had both my name and hers. I bit my bottom lip and shook my head once more. My eyes never left the scribbled writing though. 

Only when my voice startled me had I realized I had spoken. I searched this light-filled void for a response to a question I held so long. I searched for answers. I searched for closure. 

“You really thought this would make all the pain go away...?”

#writing prompt #writing inspiration #early morning writing #prose #short story #medicine #small story