My Works

Bone&Lace

Mia or Me?

I have done it again.

One year in every ten

I manage it-----

A single-car crash. Lost control of the vehicle…

Died alone…

The walls went up on my mind and the doors locked everything in, away, everything out. But somehow she finds a way in.

23 missed calls.

She was calling for your help.

She needed you, you know.

You could have saved her.

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She slipped underneath the sheets, wrapper her arms around my waist and pulled me in/ she breathed into my ear/ and stroked her fingers through my air.

You did this to me,

I needed you.

Why?

I breathed in the decay of ages and the cycle of purification that laid next to me in my bed, only signifying death and its unearthly presence. Again, she stroked me hair, out of the way of my ear and blew the stench of death into me. Cloudiness into my head, then the spiders appeared. Their long webs lowered them to the ground; on the silky string they carried the ghosts. A hot gust came through my room, sent down from the heating system. Slicing the spiders in half they multiplied and multiplied. Crawling up the legs of my bed they too joined me in under the covers. Their legs dug into my skin as if it was sand and they hauled themselves up me, slowly sinking into me. I tried to move, to shake them off. But she held me in place. Immobile. Helpless.

You let this happen, you should have saved HER. But you didn’t, you didn’t.

Deal with it.

The vibration of my phone jolted me to consciousness, the dim, murky light filtered through my sheer curtains, signifying some freakishly early hour. Around here, however, that amount of light could have indicated anything from sunrise to high noon. After four rings I finally deigned to answer, accidently knocking Freya (my cat) out of the bed. She landed with indignant mhew and stalked off to clean herself.   The caller ID on my phone announced my friend Ava, I opened the phone expectantly waiting to hear her signature salutation “hey, what’s happening?” followed by an update on a life so full she could have her own sitcom.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what’s happening?” blast through the receiver, for an obscene hour in the morning, you could not deny that she had a fair set of lungs on her.

“Sleeping or at least I was until this insomniac decided to call me…” -I turned over to see my clock- “…at 5:45 am…you are a freak, you know that?”

I heard laughing coming from the other end of the line “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

“Which is what you will be if you call me at this time again…” I rubbed my forehead and turned on the lamp, and flipped my sheet of, on spiders insight.

“Hey, hey , hey have respect for the dead” she said, narky.

I stood up and walked over to my bathroom to pee “I believe in respect for the dead: in fact, I could only respect you if you WERE dead”

“Well I hope your this nice to me when I see…soon”

I disconnected the phone cringing. What the hell? She was so weird, especially when she spoke in code.