I regret following Doctor Who posts on Tumblr. I haven't seen the 50th anniversary yet. Shut up tumblr I get it!!! 

Ah, seems I haven't been on here for a while. I apologize for that. It's been crazy this month as I am participating in National Novel Writing Month, so I've been highly focused on my novel. What's it about? Well that's a secret. 

Either way I hope all you readers are having a good November and have a wonderful Thanksgiving if you celebrate it.

Broken

Today ends the thriving crush I had. I found out he has another special to him, so I have no hope. It was my first real crush and I enjoyed everything that came with it, confusing as it may have been. The pain is not something I've ever experienced before. Physical pain I can handle, deep emotional pain, not so much. I have to be careful who I talk to, for it not to reach his ears. 

The worst is that we're friends, good friends at that. I don't want to mess that up, but I know it'll hurt when I see him again. I know I'll see him holding that girls hand, laughing happily with her, caring for her. 

I don't know how to get over it and it's only hurting more. I don't think I can drown my sorrows in ice cream and sweets. I need help. I need to forget. To move on. To heal my broken heart. 

Broken record

A broken record plucks at my heart strings. 

Digging up guilt and unwanted memories. 

It pushes past the barricades I've put up to protect myself.

To help myself forget.

Forget how broken my world is. How different I am from the world around me. How my smile is only a mask to fool others, and myself. How much I want to cry, to disappear. 

Round and round the record spins, sending me deeper and deeper into the depths of dispear. 

Someone save me. Stop the record and shine a saving light on my degrading soul. 

Battle of Souls

In spirit of Halloween I'm writing a short ghost story. Enjoy the creepiness!


He had finally caught her. Months of investigating and gathering information showed enough evidence to conivct her of the murder, no murders, she had orchestrated. She had been the puppet meister the entire time, and he had never seen a woman so heartless and cruel as her.
She had almost gotten away, almost.
He was just about to confront, and arrest her; lock her away to rot in jail. He marched up the steps of her grand manor, his knuckles hovering over the door. A whoosh of air and a thud of something large hitting the earth sounded behind him. He turned around slowly and what he saw made his gray eyes widen in horror.
There on the ground lay the bloody and twisted body of Lady Scarlet, the woman of his investigation. Her limbs were twisted, jutting out at angles not possible on the scale of human motion. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle and her evergreen eyes stared lifelessly at the overcast sky above.
His body froze, his lungs froze mid-breath. He could only stare at the bleeding corpse a few feet away, a scarlet pool slowly spreading over the dusty ground. It wasn't until several moments later when a shrill and terrified scream pierced the air that he was able to free himself from the shock.
His lungs wheezed as new air circulated into them. He clutched the cloth over his rapid beating heart, as if he could calm it. His eyes darted around the empty courtyard trying to locate the source of the scream. To his confusion he saw nothing.
The door beside him burst open and several servants of Lady Scarlet ran out of the house. The maids screamed at the sight of their mistress and the butlers had to pull them back inside. Horror was clear in all their eyes. How had this happened? They all wondered. Their mistress was fine until a few moments ago. She had glance out the window then ran and hurled herself off the balcony of her sleeping chambers.
A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance just before the rain started to pour down. The detective, Mr. Hanzel couldn't speak, only watch as the rain washed the corpse's blood into the soil.

The funeral was two days after the tragic suicide. Mr. Hanzel attended, dressed in his best black slacks and suit. It was raining that day too and it fit the somber air. Dozens of nobles attended, all cluttered together under black parasols. They all left after the the oak casket was lowered into the ground, but Mr. Hanzel stayed. He was to shaken to leave quite yet. How had he allowed his to happen? He clenched his fists, no it wasn't his fault. Lady Scarlet didn't want to be caught so she chose death over jail.

Hours had passed before he knew it and the sky was darkening as the sun began to set. A full-bodied shiver ran through him, finally snapping him out of his circulatory thoughts. He sneezed and realized he was soaked to the bone. He was freezing, his fingers turning shades of blue and purple. 

He turned and took a step towards the cemetery exit. A low whisper then brushed past his neck, making the hairs stand on end. He snapped his head back around and stumbled back. A pale, whispy Lady Scarlet floated up from the earth. Dark blood stains were heavily visible compared to her white complexion. He took several more shaky steps back and the spirit turned it's gaze to him. 

It floated above the ground in an almost stupor. It's eyes unfocused and gray. Another step back and a twig snapped beneath his feet. The spirits head snapped up and it's eyes flared a bloody red. It's face contorted as it's mouth opened impossibly wide and her fingers became claws. It lunged at Mr. Hanzel and he fell to his back side, arms raised to protect himself. 

Just before the spirit reached him a blinding flash of light appeared above his head and a blinding white spirit lunged at Lady Scarlets spirit. Mr. Hanzel squinted through the light and a astonished gasp sounded from his cold lips. The other spirit bore a striking resemblance to Duchess William, Lady Scarlets older sister whom she had murdered.

Duchess William had a heavenly glow surrounded her body draped in a white billowing dress, if he had to guess she was a angel. 

The two spirits shrieked and growled as they fought each other. They shot all sround though the air, leaving light and dark trails in their wake. Mr. Hanzel's eyes couldn't follow the battle until they soared high above him. With one final cry they both plummeted toward Lady Scarlet's fresh grave. They plunged into the earth as if it was liquid. An unnatural and unsettling silence settled over the cemetery. 

The fright and shock from encountering spirits of another realm caused Mr. Hanzel consciousness to fade. His body slumped to the ground, where it stayed until the morrow when a young mother found him and he was rushed to the hospital. 

He feared no one would believe his story so he told no soul, and took it to his grave. 

Favorite thing about fall.

The wonderfully crunchy leaves. 

Yellow (10/10)

The color of her hair matched the shinning sun as she walked in front of him. A glance to the side showed a field of sun-flowers, the same colored yellow. He was seeing it everywhere and thinking of her when he did. 

It was maddening. 

Yet he didn't hate it. 

He saw yellow. 

He saw her. Her eyes, her smile. He heard her laugh. Her anger as she scolded him, that was the most familiar. 

He saw it every time he saw the color yellow. The sun. The flowers. 

The train station loomed into view. Panic seized his pounding heart. He was running out of time. 

The train arrived, a foot on the train. He had to do it. 

He breathed in, and turned around.

He had to tell her.

He had to tell her that she was his lovely yellow. The calm yellow he would always return to. The yellow he loved.