Remember what Dad said? You're the captain of your ship. The lyrics to your songs. The walls to your castle. And everything that makes me strong. So I'm objecting your stand. And so are the juries and the judge, the lawyers and the counsel as you plead guilty for the repercussions of the faults of everyone. We're sorry. Please see that your vision holed up the heavens, damaging your mind, narrowing it down, freezing your brain with misunderstood cavities blocking the view of this paradise you're beating your hands with. And if we're lost, we'll follow the bread crumbs home and I will hold your hands tight, never letting go. Hell, I'll lend you my hands and my back and piggy back you home and my legs, kicking the bulls out of Minotaur’s sorry arse. We'll be fine. It's not all twisted endings and bad cliché of a story. There's just ours and we'll finish the book on the last page, no skipping. We'll read every sentence out loud and make it echo between your ribcage where your heart belongs. Trust me. You must be killing me if this is your happiness.
I may be the captain, but my ship was never meant to set sail because all the wrong notes have been played. My castle walls are at the point of breaking; they will surely crumble and turn into ash and dust. I am guilty as charged and it’s too late to make amends. It’s time for me to go. The universe beckons for me to join them, while the spiral galaxies welcome me with open arms of gas and dust. Simple, yet alluring gestures; it is futile to ignore them anymore. They study me as I stare up at the night sky. Wishing on a twinkling star to fulfill my darkest desire. I’ll find my peace of mind when the stars collide and my eyes go wide. Why would I do this? Take a look. My star has been dim from the start. I’ve never been able to connect the dots to form a constellation. I no longer believe that every cloud has a silver lining, that there is a ray of sunlight among the darkness. Rainbows no longer symbolize hope. I feel as if I’ve been sucked into a black hole, trapped in a deep, dark abyss with nowhere left to turn. Sure, we’ll be Hansel and Gretel, following the bread crumbs. In the end, however, the witch will find us and I will sacrifice myself in order for her not to eat you. Our story? It has no hook, so I no longer have the need to continue flipping the pages. I have reached the climax and when I am finished telling the story, there will be no happy resolution.
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Twisted Vernacular: A Short Story/Prose Collaboration
PoetryDedicated to an awesome co-writer! A/N: Synopsis- A boy is searching for his little adopted sister, when he realizes that's she's gone. All she left him was a note saying "sorry" repeatedly. The boy is the overprotective type of brother who will st...
