Hospital

      To get to the door you must walk through the book, to get through the book you must walk past the love that will come in the before. To get to the room you must push everything aside. To get to the house, you must first enter my mind. The outside of the window is the truths, that happen beyond the naked eye. Blood bags dragged in the snow. 

      My body is kept underneath of surveillance. I dream as I sleep. I talk as I peek. Black uniforms crowd over me. Lights and the cornered lamps must be turned off before it is dark. The man cloaked inside his black leather jacket carries a gun, but he cannot see me. He doesn't even know. 

 

 

 

The Opening from the Book of Spells

     I have lost my way; I have entered the grey areas. I have become someone I do not recognize, I have become someone I do not know. So many people here are talking, laughing as they gossip. The windows shatter as they bang. I am standing in the closet; it is now five PM. The door is shut, I am locked within. The floor has sunken beneath my feet, I have now entered a new a room, and a new place. Three men whisper in brown sofa chairs. Something shifted. Something shuffles. The big boned men have been spooked for a fright. I have hidden myself inside of the corners while I hold my breath. The three men can hear someone moving around, boxes have fallen, and knives have splattered. I must be careful; I must hide in the light.

 

The Past

      I have fallen and flipped. My back has popped and cracked; I am aching as my neck is stiff. The round brown-haired woman eats her second platter of junk, while she types on the internet. She gathers a group to laugh and gossip about me. She wabbles to the hair salon as she dyes her hair from to red, back to blonde. She has become obsessive with her group chat, her followers have grown, she laughs as she lies. Her round chin is covered in doughnut powder as she stuffs her thin lips, her teeth are separated and under bitten. The obese woman has created a hot topic page, she has intrigued a maintenance man, and he would like to know more of the lies she spreads. That is how I walked in. I have followed the maintenance man, something is off, something is wrong, something is strange.

I can smell it. 

 

Stephanie

     I have woken up flat on my back to the mess inside of the kitchen. I push past the struggle of pain, I push past the body shakes, I push past the struggles of the day. I wipe, I scrub, I clean. My heart squeezes inside of my chest like it has crushed inside of a large fist. I struggle to stop myself; I struggle to pull myself away. I struggle to run; I struggle to stand in place. My heart has yanked out. I am pulled to the door that creaks open. I am not capable to think with my mind, I have become brain fogged. My legs walk towards the door without my consent. I look back and see myself cooking and cleaning. The coast is clear, I will come right back. 

 

Dreams of the future

      The forgiving man, is tall and muscular, shaded light brown hair, he is skinny, and his skin is fair. He is wearing a light black, named brand jacket. He wears brown muddy ugh boots.

       The picture flips. I am wrapped in his kisses as he unlaces my black bra. I am broken in love as he promises good intentions. His strong, firm hands smooth across my face. I moan into desires that scream love. The darkness is a chill that crept my spine, I cannot find my way. There is not a light, there is not a way, I cannot leave, I must stay.

 

Raelyn

    I love with the feeling of loss. The door closes again, while I am still locked inside. I must travel back to the circle that spins. I must end and begin yet again. I must walk the land beneath and fall in love with timing from the within. The same love for the reason of the beginning, is for the relatable reasons it will end. Traveled back through time once again. 

 

-Micah Vincent