† Skyward Bound †

United States of America

Just a wandering INFP who finds solace in the silence and expresses her voice on paper in a world filled with paper-thin voices.
Be bright, be beautiful, and most of all, be YOU! You were sculpted by the sculptor of the stars; glow, you miracle you!

Message from Writer

"If you think you've blown God's plan for your life, rest in this. You, my beautiful friend, are not that powerful."
~Lisa Bevere
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?'
~Shakespear // Romeo & Juliet
( Also said as: )
“Well, what you fell over for?”
~Stan Shunpike // Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

I just gotta say: Remember that words (both audible and not) have more power than we realize. They can be used to make someone's day, or break it. Be careful with this tool handed to you by God, and go out and live your lives my internally and externally beautiful human beans!

Published Work

Home

Home.
Nostalgic music and thrumming fingertips.
The taste of butterscotch,
the smell of dollar lemonade from the gas station.
A never-ending rural road disappearing into the horizon,
A path paving the way to opportunities yet to come.
Home.

Unlocking (So primitive..) Chap. 1

Tommy waited tensely in line, feeling ready to bolt at any second. Like the line for a water slide, as his looming turn drew nearer, the butterflies in his stomach turned into bats, swirling and tumbling and spiraling in a way that made his legs shake and head spin.

8 more people.

His hands clammy, Tommy gripped the railing leading out of the tunnel carved through red rock so tightly his knuckles turned white. A scream sliced through the air, echoing as it's source fell down farther into the canyon below. He winced.

5 more people.

Th words echoed through his head hollowly, multiplying his panic by tenfold. To calm his panic, Tommy tried to focus on the head of the boy in front of him. 'Shaggy brown hair, in need of a trim.' But then, weren't they all in need of a trim? And a bath, for that matter. Another ear-piercing shriek cut trough the frigid air, slicing through...

Monostich

Monostitches of Multitudes

i. I am the very quiet change: moving mountains from the shadows, changing the orbit with a pen.

ii. Its when I'm alone with you that I yearn nothing more than the utterance of a word from your lips. But then, I fear that is all it is. A word.

iii. The union of souls by fate and chance, the eternal yet fickle devotion of waves to the shore, or just two beings on a beach with racing pulses and chemical processes muddling up their brains.

iv. Sitting alone under a tree with its branches reaching for the sky, I'm better accompanied than quietly surrounded by smiles that never reach the eyes.

v. I dream of a bench under a crooked oak in a field surrounded by pines, all painted with the morning's golden light.

vi. Appreciate the rose with the sharpest thorns, the nights with the , and that lone weed that always grows back. Appreciate them,because in the end, they...

The Case of Marcus Fletcher - The Appointment

Hello, Mister Fletcher.
Hello.
Do you know why you are here?
Yes.
Why?
Because they think I’m crazy. And they think you can fix me.
I’m sure they don’t think you’re crazy. For one thing, you don’t sound like a crazy person, and I’ve dealt with crazy people before.
You haven’t denied the fact that they want you to fix me. And ma’am, with all due respect, I must say good luck.... because I need to be broken to be fixed in the first place.
Markus, I don’t fix people, I… help them. I offer support, friendship. You understand that this is a safe place, correct? You know anything you say here will never leave this room?
Yes, I understand. But even so, I can’t promise you’ll understand anything I say. At least, not about my… differences.
I’ll be the judge of that. Now, let’s begin. I understand it that you see things that no one else sees?
Yes, but...

25 Words

Stumbling Optimistic

She always looked up. At the stars, the sky, the moon and the sun. But she forgot to look down and watch where she stepped.

Monster Flash Fiction Competition 2018

All of Us

They told you that monsters were fake, too, didn't they? Just figments of your poor traumatized mind. Well let me tell you, they are wrong. Monsters are real. They're everywhere. And these monsters? They can't be abated by the hushings of a mother or the faint glow of a nightlight.
I've seen the bits of them that most people miss. The quick flicker of a forked tongue from pale lips. Eyes crackling with ice and fire beneath a forced smile. Curved claws emerging from cracked fingernails. I've seen them all, despite their sudden disappearance, remaining only for a flicker of time, a warp in reality. But I still notice.

They say I'm crazy, but that's just a matter of o..opinion. A change of subject or dismissive wave of hand will not abate them; labeling the cold truth something more pleasant won't help. These monsters are cunning, cruel. They slip inside you when you least expect it and whisper lies that...

Brilliant Milky Moon

There is a woman, who lives on Cherry Lane.
She has silvered hair and silvered eyes
Like the moon permanently cast her with
It's brilliant milky light.
There is a woman, who lives on Cherry Lane,
Sitting on a bench every evening,
She has a sweet scent of buttermilk and cherries,
Like the moon permanently marked her with
It's brilliant milky scent.
There is a woman, who lives on Cherry Lane,
She sings to the birds every morning,
She has songs of stars and the twilit breeze,
Like the moon granted her the gift of
It's brilliant milky tones.
There is a woman, who lives on Cherry Lane,
She is growing weary, every night,
She has words of wisdom, timeless and true
But she longs most for the moon,
Like it’s calling to her with
It's brilliant milky breeze.
There is a woman, who lives on Cherry Lane,
Her heart is heavy, tired of the moon’s games
She has a...

Colors to the Sightless

Red
Bravery, Ambition
Fierce Love, Mother’s Love
Hot, Strong, Thick, Heavy
Fiery, Burning Bright in my Mind

Orange
Joy, Passion
Protection, Restraints
Warm, Lively, Hard, Happy
Loud, Rich Honey on my Tongue

Yellow
Hope, Pleasure
Butterflies Tickling my Palm
Warm, Kind, Soft, Sweet
Playful, Gentle Sunshine on my Skin

Green
Harmony, Peace
Forest’s Greeting, Nature’s Call
Cool, Ever-changing, Soft, Safe
Welcoming, Rain Gently Pattering my Face

Blue
Honesty, Wisdom
Creek Trickling over Riverbed
Calming, Constant, Ancient, Steady
Honorable, Sea Breeze Whispering in my Ears

Purple
Devotion, Pride
Crisp Night Air and Distant Stars
Powerful, Comforting, Bold, Lovely
Spring Blossoms Wafting under my Nose

Gray
Sadness, Gloom
Ghostly Silence Stilling Everything
Numb, Lonely, Depression, Death
Isolated, Winter Ghosts Gripping my Heart

Brown
Simplicity, Warmth
Falling Leaves and Rich Earth
Loving, Wishful, Solid, Home
Reliable, Squelching Mud between my Toes
 
White
Eternal, Forever Kind of Love
Crests of waves and Pearly Shells
Innocent, Young, Ancient, Wise
Snow and Frost Crunching Underfoot.

All Connected

Why can’t we all be connected
Like the tide and the moon
As insignificant as we may feel,
Or as insignificant as the distant starts seem,
We are all connected.
There is stardust in your bones,
You are a part of the universe,
Just as the prey knows its hunter,
And the hunter, its prey
We are all connected.

Talking to “You”

You and I

You and I are friends. Or that's what you tell yourself as I give you my second brownie at lunch like always.

You and I are friends. That's what you tell yourself as I giggle, poking your neck and pulling your pigtails during math class.

You and I are friends. These words float in your head as I shove you during recess, laughing and saying it was just a game.

You and I are friends. This is the sentence you repeat as I make fun of you with my other friends, later saying I didn't mean it.

You and I are friends. This is what you say when I stop apologizing for the bullying but continue to hang out like normal.

You and I are friends. That's what you repeat as I stop sitting with you at lunch but still ask to copy your homework.

You and I are friends. That's what you try to believe when I say that...

Love in 13 Words

love.

trusting another so intimately your souls dance in the nights spent counting stars.

through grumpy mornings and sick days, the arguments and tears. now that's love.

three words. so simple, so powerful, so painful, so meaningless. lie, or truth?

x1 mildly used heart. INSTRUCTIONS: Assemble with care. Apply time, affection, and dedication for best results.

love isn't what you always expect. it will come, some way or another. just trust.

Love in 13 Words

love.

love.

trusting another so intimately your souls dance in the nights spent counting stars.

through grumpy mornings and sick days, the arguments and tears. now that's love.

three words. so simple, so powerful, so painful, so meaningless. lie, or truth?

x1 mildly used heart. INSTRUCTIONS: Assemble with care. Apply time, affection, and dedication for best results.

love isn't what you always expect. it will come, some way or another. just trust.

Darkness Everywhere

Monsters are real. They are everywhere. That prickly feeling crawling up your spine when you feel like someone is watching? That’s because they are. The shapes and shadows floating in your vision at night, even when you close your eyes; or the unknown flash of foreboding that makes you wake in a cold sweat in the dead of night? Monsters.
 
Still not convinced, eh? Well, I don’t just mean when you’re all alone. When I said monsters are everywhere, I meant everywhere. You might not see them, hardly anyone does. But they’re still there. They are the steel bitterness in a voice, the eyes behind a forced smile that crackle with ice and fire. These monsters are everywhere, but they cannot be escaped by the feathery hushing of a mother or the glow of a nightlight.
 These monsters don’t hide in darkness because they are Darkness. The kind that weighs you down like black pudding, so thick that...

Lovely Shades of Gray

Good and bad, Black and white.
Is there such an uncrossable line?
Such a thing as pure dark and pure light?
 
With God, it is easy.
He is all that is good, all that is right.
But for humans? For people? It just isn’t so.
We bicker and quarrel, we love, yet still fight.
It’s hard to decide between yes and no,
Between the wrong and the right.
 
Is one innocent? Guilty?
Are we as different as day is from night?
I do not believe it is so.
There isn’t a perfect cut between yes and no.
We are all a mix, neither white nor black.
A lovely shade of gray, a bit broken and cracked.
 
But the problem is in our heads, deep inside.
We think for a perfect world, there must be a good, a bad,
There must be two sides.
 
But if it is this way,
Should all mistaken be thrown into jail...

Ten Words to You

Happy Days in 10 Words

Book in hand, blanket-nest, mind adrift. Now that's satisfaction.

Birdsong

Raven's Hurrah


Chirp-chirp, Twee-twee
Thousands of calls,
Surrounding Me.
 
Whistle, Whisper,
Warbling-woo
All calling out to you.
 
But not I,
Chakk-chackk-chi
Listen closely
For my cry.


Bleak-black-bird
In the Pines,
Boom-bang-bursts,
Whirling-wind whines.
 
Cheep-cheep ceases,
Birdsongs fade,
Throbbing-thumping-thunder,
Oaks-and-Pines swayed.
 
Cackling, Crackling,
Caw-caw
Pittering, Pattering,
Haw!haw!
 
On Storm’s symphony,
There I croon,
Alone, just me.
 
Cackling, Crackling,
Caw-caw
One man’s ire.
Another’s hurrah.

Horse.


Grass
Waving in the wind
Thunder
Rippling through the ground
Blurred
Pelts of many colors
Hooves
Kicking swiftly
Hearts
Pounding rapidly
Souls
Soaring through the clouds
Horse
Grounded creature
That still finds ways to fly.

Open Prompt

I'm Not There.


Hair? Too plain.
             Dye.
                            Curl.
                                          Straighten.
Face? Too ugly.
              Fix
                          My
                                      Flaws.
 
Freckles? Too many.
                Paint
                                Over
                                                All.
Height? Too short.
                Heels.
                                Taller.
                                                Better.
Smile? Too fake.
                Must
                                Hide
                                                Pain.
Ready? Too perfect.
                I’ll
                                Never
                                                Show.
 
 
Reflection? Someone else.
                I’m
                                Not
                                                There.

Truths and Untruths

i wish for a world.

i wish for a world where people believe that they are beautiful.
​i wish for a world where depression, death, and suicide weren't a joke.
​i wish for a world where people would wait for God's timing.
i wish for a world where i wouldn't have to be afraid.
​i wish for a world where looks, skills, weight, and past don't matter.
i wish for a world where making friends is as easy as losing them.
i wish for a world where people take care of each other and the planet.
​i wish for a world where people care about the consequences of their actions.
​i wish for a world that wouldn't make everything a competition.
​i wish for a world where I wouldn't feel the need to make others like me.
​i wish wishing for such a world would make ours so.
​i wish people would stop talking about changing our ways and just do it.

On the Last Day of the World

Last Day Musings

On the Last day of the World,
​When History thus unfurled,
​Would I regret all I'd never be,
​All the Things I'd never see.

Would I walk to my quiet place,
​Quiet grief trickling down my face,
​Would I grieve Things that never were,
​Or happily remember, Things that did occur.

​Would I live that day,
​Recklessly and wild,
And do Things that would have,
​Once left myself beguiled.

Thinking of these thoughts,
​I think of what I'd ought,
To do on the Last day of the World,
​And what I'd ought to not.

Instead of filled with sorrow,
That there would be no tomorrow,
​I'd want to live the day worthwhile,
​And go down with a smile.

Stormy Soul

They say love is like fire
Passionate and wild
But that is not the case
When it comes to people like me.

I'm like a storm, a hurricane, monsoon,
Underneath these flesh and bones.
Can't you see the raging funnels inside?
The thunder behind my eyes?

Others have tried to tame
The churning storms inside,
But no one can survive the pain I can bring.
Except you, my dear,
The one with the power to calm a storm like me.

If you manage to break through my pounding hail of a wall,
Then inside you shall find the calm.
Only you, my dear,
with warm fingers of flame
Can thaw this churning heart,
And show my untamed soul that yours is the same.

The Art of Specificity

Raisin Man (Idk Okay)

1. The old man had a face as withered as a raisin. His steel grey eyes looked like they were drained of all color, and his wiry grey hair stood on end.

2. The grizzled old man had a face like a withered raisin, and his eyes were drained of all color. His frosty stubble stood like grass along his jawline, and his knobby joints bent in too places. The old man's white and gray streaked hair stood up in all directions, like they were straining to escape his balding scalp.

3. The old man had a face as withered as raisins, and knobby joints that bent in too many directions. His wild eyes were drained of all color, and his frosty stubble stood like grass along his jawline. But the most absurd was the crazed man's hair. The gray and white strands  seemed to strain towards the sky to escape his balding scalp, and gave him an aura similar...

Broken in Twenty-five Words.

He lied. And she listened.
He promised. And she believed.
He drifted. And she loved.
He left. And she stayed.
She waited. But he didn't.

Why I Write

I Write Because I Need to Be Heard.

I write because it is my voice. These words on the page aren't just symbols, they are the bits and pieces of my shattered heart and soul that were wrenched open to bleed on the page. I write because I need a way to be heard, a small boost in the sea and ocean that is life. I need to know that I'm not invisible, that though I go unnoticed and unseen and unheard, that I still exist with a purpose. And that purpose is to write, because these lines and squiggles on the page are pieces of ​me. ​I am my writing.​ I write because it is the only way to relieve the pain and the hurt and the emotion that are bottled up and screaming to be let out underneath tired eyes and fake smiles. I write to settle the voices inside my head that whisper lies and insults that increase my dread. Why am I here? they ask. ​Why doesn't anyone see that I'm dying inside?...

Liquid Ice (Still working on the title)

There was nothing but liquid ice. Liquid ice beneath me, above me, around me. I was trapped, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. How could I? The ice and sea had always been a friend of mine.

I had a foggy memory of plunging into the icy depths, welcoming the cold. But there was something else… Something that was nagging at my brain, urging me to do something, but the rate at which I was slipping from consciousness didn’t give me any time to figure out what. That one thought was the only thing stopping me from letting go and just accepting the eternal cold and darkness.

But the longer I tried to slip into an endless slumber, the brighter the thought burned in my mind. Like fire, like warmth, like love, like… life. And suddenly, the memories came crashing back.

Like a cascading waterfall, I remembered. I remembered the last face I had seen, panicked and scared. I...

I Remembered. (Chap. 1)

Cold. Dark. Silent.
Winter? Night? Loneliness?
Snow. Stars. Heartache.
What were these blank blips of thought floating groggily inside my... my what? Inside me? Yes, inside me.
They were like unattached particles that simply existed with a puzzling presence within me. I couldn't place them, it was disturbing.
But still, they sprouted in the blank numbness of within, not having any purpose rather than to cause a disturbance.

All I knew was that it was Cold. And it was Dark. And it was Silent. All of which could only be known by the absence of something, right? But then how did these... words... come to me, if they were all I had ever known? Ah, well, they have already faded to nothingness.
That is, until I noticed something foreign, something that I couldn't name. It was faint, flickering, fleeting, yet persistent. It was slightly aggravating and made my... eyes, was it? Yes, it made my eyes prickle and itch.
That itching...

A Blanket of Frozen Stars



As I lay there,
Unable to go on
I gazed up, my breath coming out
In white puffs of fog.
The night sky, darkened
By clouds
The snow was falling stars.
They fell to me,
Slowly numbing my body
With cold, white stardust.
The falling stars blanketed me,
Built a tomb of frosty marble.
I lay there, blanketed in snow
Gazing at the dark black sky
Where stardust came falling down
To bury my earthly body.
I closed my eyes and
Took a breath of frozen air
For the last time.
My body cradled by the dust of frozen stars,
My soul eternally embraced
In the depths of the frozen night.

Caged Bird, Caged Heart

You cage your heart,
Trap it behind iron bars of defense.
You cage your heart,
Because it was a fragile, fluttering thing
It leapt at all those who took an interest
Even the cat, who waited to strike
The cat who toyed with your heart,
Bashed it, bruised it,
Shattered it, then left.
You cage your heart,
To protect the broken bird,
From being torn apart again.
The cat made you believe
That love was a dangerous and painful game
So you cage your heart,
When it yearns for the cloudless skies,
To come.
 
But then, He comes.
Your heart stirs, the bird sings.
The prison is slowly melted,
By words of love and encouragement.
Your hand is reluctant,
Your head screams logic,
But your heart battles for control.
It didn’t learn from the cat’s claws.
It didn’t learn from its thin white scars.
Its been caged too long,
Its wings restless.
So with a shaky hand, you...