Random Inspiration.

I was just sitting here when a passing spirit visited me. It was lonely, sad, nostalgic. Longing to be alive. I felt this longing so severely that all I could do was cry for the passerby...

And it provoked this story.

Longing for Home

They sought refuge in an abandoned cathedral on the far edge of the city. The rain was falling so hard that none of them could see three feet beyond the ends of their noses, and they were all shivering with cold as they piled into the dilapidated structure. There were holes in the ceiling that allowed a little bit of light -- and rain -- to fall into the building, revealing years of neglect and abandon. The wallpaper barely clung to the walls and was completely missing in some places. Several of the pews were broken, having succumb to the demise brought on by water and mold. A large stain glass mural hung overhead, but was missing several tiles. A lone chandelier barely hung on the ceiling, missing several lights and looking as if the cord it was dangling upon would give way at any moment. The entire structure smelled musty with decay, as if the very place itself were just another rotting corpse. And to an extent, it was.

"This is an awful sad place to take shelter in," the teenaged boy with dirty blonde hair said while wringing out the end of his shirt.

"I know, Daniel, but it was the only place we could find," replied an older boy with pale red hair. His dark eyes scanned the area slowly, both admiring and mourning the lack of care the building had seen.

Daniel looked to the other boy, who was his older brother. "I hope it stops raining soon, Jim. I don't like being here."

"Neither do I," Jim replied.

Nearby, another young man was scoping the facility out as well. He walked over to one of the broken pews and gently brushed his fingertips along it, feeling the splintery wood as if trying to read its history. His blue eyes turned upwards towards one of the holes in the ceiling and he squinted as he looked out of it. The rain still poured down from the opening, resembling a bleeding wound that nobody cared to tend to. It made him feel strangely sad.

The lone female of the group was standing underneath the stain glass mural, looking up into the array of reds, blues, and greens. Her green eyes were slow to blink if they blinked at all, her involuntary responses slowly neglecting to respond. She tightened her hands into fists at her sides, quivering and making a slight sound. She caught the attention of the blue-eyed male, who walked forward and rested his hands upon her shoulders softly.

"Luca, are you okay?" He asked gently, worriedly.

She turned to face him, an empty expression glazed her eyes over into two orbs of milky glass. She neglected to respond.

"Luca?" The boy asked again, gently shaking her.

She blinked and her whole body wracked with a quick shiver as she seemed to return to the surface. "Phil, I have a feeling we're not alone in here."

Phil nodded once, halfway. "I got that feeling, too, but didn't want to say anything. Are you okay?"

"This place resonates sadness and abandon," Luca murmured cryptically.

"Luca..."

The brothers walked over to their friends. "What's going on?" Jim asked.

Phil shook his head with confusion. "I don't know. She's not herself." He looked down for a moment, and then back up. "I think we should leave. I don't like what this place has done to her."

"Don't make me leave," Luca suddenly yelped in a voice that sounded nothing like her own.

The three young men quickly jumped and gazed at the girl. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body began to shiver violently. Phil's eyes widened in distress and he grasped his girlfriend tightly, shaking her hard. "No!" He cried. "No, Luca! Don't let it take you!"

Don't leave, a voice declared from one of the holes in the ceiling. Please don't leave.

"What's that?" Daniel asked, cowering a little bit and stepping closer to his brother.

I've not had company in so long. Please don't leave now, the voice continued. I've not had a body to inhabit in so long. Please.

Phil's breathing came out in four quick, shallow gasps. His blue eyes blinked a few times, trying to ward off tears of distress. "You let her go," he demanded in a timid voice. "Don't you take my girlfriend from me."

Luca's body stumbled backwards awkwardly, coming to rest against the stain glass mural. Her eyes had turned a glassy black, and the color was lost from her form. A shaky hand rose from its place at her side and reached out towards Phil invitingly.

Play with me, the voice insisted. Please play with me.

Phil stepped back and bit his lip so hard it nearly drew blood. "Let her go," he insisted, his voice wavering. "Please just let her go."

Daniel stepped back as well, several feet back, as if wanting to run for the door and never look back. "What the hell is going on?" He demanded.

Jim smiled sadly. "This building has a spirit, and the spirit has manifested in Luca's body."

"Why are you smiling?" Phil cried angrily. "It's not funny!"

"I didn't say it was, Phil." Jim replied softly, the smile quickly leaving his face. "You see, this spirit is just a lonely soul who has been trapped in its spiritual form for quite some time, and it just wanted to know what it was like to be alive again. To have a body..."

Phil closed his eyes and he yelped, "I don't care! I want my girlfriend back!"

Don't make me leave, the voice insisted. For the first time in so long, I don't feel alone.

"You don't have to stay here," Daniel insisted. "I don't know much about spirits, but I do know that you don't have to stay here."

Jim nodded. "Release our friend, please, and proceed on to the afterworld. You don't have to stay here. You don't have to be alone."

I want to be alive again. I simply wish to live...

"It's time for you to move on," Jim insisted. "It's time for you to go."

Luca's body suddenly stood completely straight, her head turned up towards the ceiling. Her eyes opened wide and every muscle in her body could be seen tightening hard. A strange fog began to drift from her being, floating up through the air and swirling until it took the form of a young woman. The form hovered above Luca for several moments, staring at the boys with a longing sadness in her eyes.

I just want to live, she moaned again. I'll never leave here until I am alive again.

The three boys watched her form slowly turn into mist and fade away into nothingness. Phil ran forward and caught his girlfriend as she swayed and fell forward. He clutched her tightly in his arms, a few tears of distress spilling over from his tightly closed eyes. "Oh, Luca," he whined softly. "Please be okay."

Luca opened her eyes, which were back to their normal green color, and blinked. She then proceeded to grasp at her boyfriend and begin to cry. "She just wanted to live," she whimpered through her tears.

He rocked them both back and forth slowly, nodding his head and holding her tighter. "I know."

"She just wanted to live..." She repeated again.

The brothers walked over and tried to console their two upset friends. None of the four saw the sunlight coming through the holes in the ceiling.

None of them saw the broken figure of the woman reflected in the stain glass mural just behind them.

Prose to Go With the Raging.

This poem goes hand-in-hand with the raging, venting post below. I don't give a damn if neither are read, because I've become convinced that my words are falling on deaf ears anyway.

So have a poem.

The Throw Away

She's become the useless object
She's turned into a wasted thing
Too blind to see she's a reject
Afraid of the pain isolation brings.

So she clings to him like a parasite
Trying to convince herself he cares
Unaware she's dueling in a lost fight
Can't see he doesn't care if she's there.

Stupid girl asks of him a question
But can't even get the time of day
And yet she takes this without objection...
Too afraid to be alone, so she'll stay.

Can't even begin to comprehend
The fact that he's happy her to ignore
Unwilling to speak up and defend
Herself at this point any more.

She lives with a morbid sense of love
Believes love is suffering in silence
Meanwhile it takes her heart and shoves
It full of a brewing, quiet violence.

And maybe one of these days she'll break
Maybe she'll finally stand on her own
Maybe the stupid girl will see her mistake
And make her wounded feelings known.

Maybe she'll finally stop the burning tears
Dig her fingers in and crawl up and out
Maybe she'll get over her silly little fears
And finally learn what love is truly about.

But until that time comes, she's destined to be
The idiot who will cry through most of the day
Because she refuses to be alone and free
Resigned to always be his little throw away.

Raging and Venting at Wit's End.

It's kind of funny.

But it's really not.

You know, one of these days I'll learn better. But tonight I guess I just forgot.

It's funny in that I went through this same crap years ago. It's funny that when I went through it then, I swallowed it and took it because I thought things would get better.

Ha. Haha. Fucking hilarious, Dani. You're a friggin' idiot.

I wanted someone to talk to today. Why? Stupid reasons.

Reason #1: I was upset in general. Down and out. But hey, who gives a damn?

Reason #2: I've been feeling a bit upset since we were told that the rescue we sent Caesar to lost him. Lost him. We found his owner, and the fucking rescue lost him.

Reason #3: The Columbus authorities fucked up the investigation into the death of our great-aunt and are trying to cover their asses about it, fooling my family into thinking the case still has some sort of chance. Well, guess what? It fucking doesn't.

Reason #4: Because I'm an idiot and thought it'd cheer me up.

But instead I got nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. But that's fine... I'll lay down and take it like the pansy little bitch that I am. Ha. Haha. I'm so fucking pathetic. I waited all day for nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Am I being selfish? Oh, quite possibly. Probably so. But hey, who cares, right? It didn't matter today and it won't matter tomorrow. Nope, tomorrow we'll pretend like nothing ever fucking happened, because we're so used to sticking our goddamn heads in the sand like we're ostriches.

I'm tired of sticking my head in the fucking sand. I'm tired of suffocating on sand. I'm tired, tired, tired of it.

I'm so close to throwing up my hands and saying "fuck it all" that it's not even funny. Why? Because it's slowly become just like the situation I was trapped in years ago, when I was an idiot and didn't know better. When I was a pathetic little girl who'd let people walk all over her. When I was stuck with someone who put me in the back of his mind just because I was pathetic enough to let him.

Why do I want to be the last resort? Why do I want to be the one that people go, "Eh, I don't feel like dealing with her today so I won't." Why would I want to be the one people don't give a damn about? Huh? Anyone want to tell me?

When you come up with the answer to my questions, come find me and tell me.

I'm not going to be treated like a throw-away. I don't care how attached I think I am, I refuse to be the trash that people simply step on and throw away without caring what it does to my psyche. Fuck knows that my psyche has been damaged enough without careless people bending me until I break. God fucking knows I don't need it.

I want to know I'm respected, cared for, loved, and worth the time. And if I'm not, do me a favor and tell me so.

So that I'm not wasting my life waiting all day for someone who isn't going to give me the time of day anyway.

I genuinely hope you feel better tomorrow. But don't be surprised if you're given the same treatment tomorrow that you gave me today.

In fact, you can halfway expect it.

Random Prose.

A piece of poetry related to story 094 of my 104 Story Project. It's both dark and sweet at the same time. I don't know how to explain it.

It was just a random piece that floated into my head.

Twilight

And the heavens grow dark slowly at
The coming of clouds from the depths of hell
Sending waves of terror that
These two have come to know all too well.

From the ground below, the demons emerge
Undead creatures with sights set on death
Upon the denizens of the world they converge
Aiming to wrestle away the living's breath.

The air has gone heavy and silently still
For a moment time seems to be frozen
And then in an instant falls the first kill
Death by a pair refusing to be broken.

She bears in her hand a blade of purple flame
Her very own life force pulses in the blaze
She'll fight to her death but not for her fame
She stands tall in the midst of a blood haze.

In her chest beats a heart that's twisted
In her eyes flickers a flame of pain and rage
Her soul resides with a mind that's conflicted
She was a wounded animal left to die in a cage.

But then she learned the existence of caring
She learned that someone could be trusted
Life became manageable with someone sharing
The burden that she had been entrusted.

And while he's never been one of bravery
He will stand tall at her side through it all
Because he has fallen into love's slavery
He knows that either they'll both live or fall.

And so together they stand up to face the dead
That have risen up from their graves
They'll force these demons back to eternal bed
Or else the world will never be saved.

She stands up and smiles pleasantly his way
He smiles back nervously and thinks of the fight
As together they go forward into the fray
That starts to rage in the blood-red twilight.

Aftermath

So here we are once again
On opposing ends of the trigger
Fighting wars we can't win
Another loss added to the figure.

And whatever does it matter
To add another negative story?
Who cares if one of us shatters
In this light of agony's glory?

I'm dragging myself upon the ground
Bleeding from all of these wounds
My throat is cut, it makes no sound
As I scream, "Let all this end soon."

I've dusted myself off so many times
And bandaged the multitudes of sprains
But yet recovery has become the crime
And the punishment is only pain.

We've gone off in a violent explosion
A furious blaze has torn us both apart
Now we sit back and watch the erosion
And death of the love in our hearts.

The explosion came from out of nowhere
Setting the world ablaze in this inferno
Of venomous words and dagger-glazed glares
Makes me wonder where did our love go...

Maybe this eruption should've killed us both;
Maybe we should just lay down and die.
Maybe we're never going to see our love's growth...
Maybe the love just doesn't want to try.

It's a heartbreaking day when an accident
Causes so much destruction and devastation
It's sickening to the stomach how little sense
All of it makes -- Agony is a great sensation.

So now we'll be picking up the pieces once more
If there's even a point to walk the broken path
Because God knows I'm shaken down to the core
Every time I witness our aftermath.

So tonight Shelby, Steve, and I went exploring the uber large cemetery in town that I've always wanted to see. The graves there go back as far as the year 1800! The air of the cemetery felt heavy and I had trouble standing up and walking, as I was feeling bombarded with energy. I found a grave that had a random hot spot on it where all the other graves around it were cold... it was amazing! What a time.

Cemetery exploration plus a new Luigi's Mansion ringtone on my cell phone plus new vanilla lotion make me happy.

I'm going to try and sleep now.

Nothing Ever Hurt Like You.

Nothing ever hurt like you.

Ever.

Wounded Words

Sometimes these smiles of mine are fake
And occasionally these laughs are forced
Sometimes I've had beyond all I can take
But you wouldn't know any of this, of course.

There must be some blinders that you wear
That makes the world so wonderfully carefree
But it takes away your ability to care...
Or, at least, it seems like it to me.

So what would you care if I disappeared?
You don't seem to need me as of late.
So what would you do if I suddenly weren't here?
Would you think that suddenly you I hate?

Do you even know how it feels to be alone
Spending hours upon hours waiting for an opportunity
Only to mistakenly find the plans unshown
Revealing that your silly chance never was to be?

Does your heart even know how to yearn
For someone with which time you wish to share?
Of course you don't. Maybe you need to learn
What it's like when I'm suddenly not there.

Is it time for these tables to finally turn?
Is it finally time for me to escape the cage?
I grow weary of my chances constantly spurned;
I'm tired of feeling like an actor upon a stage.

I've become patient because I thought it was part
Of the entire dimension that is known as "love"
But gradually I feel different courses do we chart
And that I cannot be your perfect angel from above.

I'm no longer willing to spend my days in wait
For a fifty-fifty chance at seeing you for some time
If you don't have time then end our togethered fate...
Because false imprisonment is the nastiest of crimes.

I don't want to be locked away, I hope you understand
That this angry speech is because I feel unheard
I'm attempting now to make some kind of stand...
Please hear these wounded words.