Emergency (Part 3)

Adena and Eli quietly walked down the stairs, faces troubled. They had gone about locking windows, and closing blinds in the master bedroom in silence, before heading back.

The sound of calm voices chattering in the living room made both hesitate at the foot of the stairs. Adena turned around to look up at Eli, frowning, “What do we say?”

Eli stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and shrugged, before hunching his shoulders. “Don’ know.”

She groaned, and rubbed at her face, the exhaustion seeming to weigh her down.

Eli sighed, and stepped forward. He drew Adena close, wrapping her in a hug, her face pressed to his chest.

Adena wrapped her arms around his waist, and melted into his embrace.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “We’ll be okay, Princess. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

“I know,” Adena rubbed her cheek against his soft t-shirt, “Thanks, Eli.”

Mari’s head popped out from around the corner, “Dios mio, get a room you two!”

Adena and Eli jumped apart, startled. Adena rounded on Mari, her hands on her hips, and brow furrowed. “Mari!”

Eli scowled, and pushed past both women into the living room, claiming his previous seat in the second arm-chair, Matt and Amy already cuddled back up in the other.

Mari smirked, and looped her arm through Adena’s, and practically dragged the shorter girl into the living room.

Adena noticed that a few lit candles had been scattered around the room to give off more light, though the rest were left stacked on the coffee table, including a flash light and the first aid kit. A large pile of pillows and blankets with pushed into the corner.

Ben was still fiddling with the radio, and Sam had relocated to sitting on the floor, leaning back against his legs.

Mari swung both herself and Adena around to face the others, most gathered back in their previous spots, looking calmer than she had last seen them.

She grimaced slightly at the thought of upsetting them again, but quickly schooled her features into a blank mask.

“So,” Mari looked down at Adena, “as you can see, Derek and I completely raided your candle stash, by the way, you’re a candle hoarder. No one needs that many candles.”

Adena rolled her eyes. “Obviously, it was good to have for an emergency situation.”

Mari snorted, “Right, whatevs.”

Adena scowled, and opened her mouth to retort.

“Diana and I made sure all the windows and doors were locked and covered,” Damon butted in, heading off an argument before it could start.

“Why does your house have so many windows?” Diana asked, brow primly arched.

Adena huffed, “I enjoy having plenty of natural lighting.”

“Matt and Amy wiped out your linen closet, and got all the pillows and blankets you left in the hall upstairs,” Damon interrupted again, nudging his sister with his shoulder.

Adena leaned around Mari and smiled at the couple in the armchair, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Matt intoned softly, and Amy smiled.

Adena looked at Mari, “Could you please sit down? I have something to share.”

Mari squinted at Adena, before nodding once, and returning to her seat on the couch, which Derek leaned on the back of.

With a sigh, Adena wiped her hands along the front of her skirt, then folded her hand together. She looked around the room, and at the expectant faces of her friends.

Eli’s heavy gaze had her snapping her eyes away.

“While Eli and I were upstairs, we studied what we could have outside.” She hesitated.

“And?” Diana prompted.

“And,” Adena looked down, “we couldn’t see anything.”

Mari snorted, “Yea, cause it’s dark outside, duh.”

Adena frowned at Mari, “That’s not what I meant.”

“My cat can see in the dark.” Sam volunteered, and everyone turned to look at her.

“Yes,” Adena drawled, “thank you, Sam.”

The bubbly blonde smiled.

The short brunette couldn’t help but smile in return. “What I meant was, there is no sign of any of the neighbors. No candle light, no flashlights, and no movement.”

Quite a few of the group tensed, as the news, and what it could mean, settled.

“And,” Adena continued softly, “it looked like there may be some kind of fire in the distance. A rather large one, from the look of it.”

The noise level sky rocketed when the others began to talk over one another. “Where is-” “-could of gone-” “-fire-” “-parents-” “-sister-” “-my cat-”

“Everyone shut up!” Ben snapped, and the room silenced, and everyone’s focus turned to the man. “Listen.”

He turned up the sound on the radio, and the rough voice of an older man filled the silence. “I’m trapped in the station. I’m alone, and have been for hours now. Everyone else is just gone.”

“How-” Derek started, but was quickly hushed by the others.

“If you’re out there, if you’re hearing this, be ready. Whoever, whatever, has invaded and is taking some people, and killing the rest. They hit hard and fast. If you can fight, fight, if not, run, run far, and hide.”

There was a moment of silence, and no one moved.

The man’s voice came back again, “By broadcasting this message, they’ll know I’m here. They’ll be coming soon. Take care of yourselves. Sarah, sweetheart, if you’re still out there, I love you, keep yourself safe. To everyone else, may whoever you believe in watch over you.”

The radio broadcast cut off, and static took its place.

To be continued…

 

Emergency

A high pitched tone echoed through the living room, catching the attention of everyone, and all conversation ceased between the group of friends. All heads turned to face the television against the wall, as a multi-colored screen lit up the room.

The tone ceased, and the screen flashed to a disheveled looking man in a suit, sitting behind a desk, and nervously shuffling papers.

He looked down, cleared his throat, and looked back up. “Attention everyone, this is an emergency broadcast. The government is asking that everyone remain calm, and stay indoors. Again, this is an emergency broadcast. The government asks that everyone remain calm and stay indoors.”

The group of friends shuffled around the room, moving closer to the television, some sitting on the couch, a couple in the matching armchairs, and the rest sat on the floor.

The man’s gaze shifted away from the screen, and he tensed and paled. He jerked his gaze back to the screen. “Stay inside, lock your doors, and may God help us all.”

The man jumped up from the desk, toppling his chair, as the camera fell sideways, crashing to the floor. A high pitch scream echoed from the television, and cut off eerily as the television cut back the multicolored screen.

A man with a dark close cut mohawk and piercing green eyes, scowled. “What the hell was that?”

A tiny brunette woman opened her mouth to respond, but the power cut out, dropping the room into darkness.

Startled screams echoed through the room.

The glow from multiple cell phones popped up in the room.

“I think perhaps we should do as the man said, and make sure everything is locked up.” The tiny brunette finally spoke.

To be continued…

Perfume

He stands in the doorway to theirhistheir bedroom. His suit is rumpled, his tie loose and crooked.

He stares at the bed, where her nightgown still lays. Her book is lying on her nightstand, an old playing card still marking her page. A half finished bottle of water nearby.

He walks into the room, each movement a struggle.

He curses as he trips over something on the floor, stumbling into the wall. He looks down, and jerks back, his whole body slamming into the wall. Her favorite shoes. She said they’d called her name.

He kept walking backwards, body gliding along the wall. He gasps when he bumps into her vanity, rattling it, and everything on it, including her delicate glass perfume bottles, and knocking her favorite hat from where it hangs on the back of the chair.

On instinct, he fumbles to catch up, crinkling the brim, but jerks away as if burned, and watches it flutter to the floor.

A sob bubbles up from his chest, and he clenches his jaw, locking the rest behind grit teeth. He takes a few unsteady steps backwards, until his knees hit the bed, and he is forced to sit.

An aroma wafts up at the force of his landing, filling his nose. The soft scent of lilac, envelops him, wrapping around him, like her arms.

He shudders. “You’re not gone.”

He swallows thickly. “There’s so much left undone.”

His voice cracks. “You didn’t finish your book.”

“You’re not gone.”

The scent of lilacs begins to fade. And the dam breaks.

A low sound makes its way up his throat, and out of his mouth. His eyes burn, and the tears begin to pour, running scalding trails down his cheeks. He sobs, and gasps, unable to catch his breath.

He hunches over, burying his head in his hands, his fingers grasping at his hair. “You’re-” he gasps, “you’re-” he bawls, “not-” pulls at his hair, “gone!”

He shudders, and howls like a wounded animal, collapsing off the bed, and to his knees on the floor.

He bawls until there is nothing left within him. Until his eyes are so dry they ache, he throat feels like he tried to swallow broken glass, his lungs burn with every breath, and his whole body feels like a single giant bruise.

His whispered voice crackles and breaks. “You can’t be gone.”

via Daily Prompt: Perfume

Challenges, Summer Break, and Inspiration

Hello everyone.

It’s been a while, I know. Life has been hectic, and I have let some things fall to the wayside. I am hoping to rectify that.

My last day of school for the semester ends tomorrow, which means I will have three months off. I am looking forward to it. My brain is feeling extra crispy at this point.

A challenge came to me from the administrator of the Ninja Writers group on Facebook, to make a post a day for the month of May, now the original challenge was to post to Medium, but I have my hands full with the social media accounts I already have, so I will be doing the post a day here. Because of school being almost done, I have decided to accept the challenge, and I hope that all of you will like and comment, and keep me going.

For a final for one of my classes, I had to do a project based on the three poetry books we had read. We were able to choose from a list of questions, picking and choosing parts, and combining them with parts from other questions if we so chose. The basis of my paper became talking about how our experiences, and relationship with the world, helped to develop our sense of self. We were able to do more than just write a paper though, and the professor encouraged us to delve into other mediums.

I was inspired by a poem by Amalia Ortiz called Some Days, and if you have not read it, you should check it out, it is lovely. Anyways, like I was saying, I was inspired by this poem to draw, and it turned out better than expected, and I have decided to share it here. It is titled When the Facade Crumbles.

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Please, let me know what you think below. Also, if you have any ideas for me to write about over the next month, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. I love to hear from you guys.

Daily Prompt: Complicated

via Daily Prompt: Complicated

Being a writer can be complicated. It’s an intensely private thing, but also very public. I hate saying that I am a writer, because, inevitably, the question is, “Oh, what have you written?” “Well… nothing. Yet. I’m in the process.” And then the look happens, you know the one. The one where they’re question your ability to call yourself a writer. I hate that look. So, I don’t call myself a writer. Not out loud. My biggest problem, my biggest roadblock, is myself. I can’t seem to get out of my own damn way. I’m so afraid of failing, that all of my time and effort will have been a waste, that most times, it freezes me up. So, when people ask what I do? It’s complicated.

Anxiety

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Such a simple word, but for those that suffer with it, it means so much.

It’s spending everyday being betrayed by your own body, fighting your own brain every second, of every minute of every hour of everyday.

It’s feeling like you can never really let your guard down, because the shadows will bleed in and start picking at the wounds littering your psyche.

It starts out like whispers, faint, but mostly easy to ignore, but it grows, and grows, until it is so loud and tripping over the top of itself that it sounds like static.

Constantly hearing, “Why even bother to try, you’re just going to fail anyways?” “You’re not good enough; you will never be good enough.” “It’s dangerous outside.” “You’re so stupid.” “You’re broken.” “You’re too ugly.” “Too fat.” “Too thin.” “You’re doing it wrong.” “Go away.” “No one wants to talk to you.” “Shut up.” “No one wants to hear you.” “No one likes you.” “You’re bothering people.” “People don’t want to see you.” “You’re damaged. “People are dangerous.” “The world is dangerous.” “You suck.” “Your husband is upset, what did you do?” “He only stays for the kids.” “You’re a terrible mother.” “You’re going to damage your kids.” “Your kids are going to hate you.” “What if something terrible happens?” “What if it’s the end of the world?” “How will you keep your kids safe?” “How will you survive without your husband?” “What if…” “What IF…” “WHAT IF…?!” “You’re not good enough.” “You are not good enough.” “YOU are not good enough.” “You ARE NOT good enough.” “You are NOT good enough.” “You are NOT GOOD ENOUGH.” “NOT GOOD ENOUGH!”

It’s a struggle. It’s painful. Sometimes it gets to be so much, that your chest gets too tight, your lungs squeeze, and you wheeze. You can’t get air. You can’t breathe. No air. Tears pour down your face. Your muscles lock up. You shake. Your body begins to shut down, because it thinks it is under attack. And it is.

Afterwards, you feel worse. You body hurts. Your lungs, your throat, your muscles. Your head hurts. Your eyes are swollen and aggravated. And now your brain is calling you stupid, over and over, for freaking out for no reason.

You really begin to doubt yourself. You begin to doubt others. After all, you hear it every day, cycling through your brain, a soundtrack on repeat. It’s your own brain. It wouldn’t lie to you, right? Right?!

Some people can find a way to struggle through it, fight it, and get better on their own. Some need the help and support of their friends and family. Others need the help of doctors and medication.

None of those options are wrong. Whatever you need to do to get better, to feel stronger do it.

You are not damaged. You are not broken. You just need help.

You are not alone. YOU are not alone. You ARE NOT alone. You are NOT ALONE. YOU ARE NOT ALONE!