Sleep With One Eye Open
She has taken all of the abuse She is going to take. For month and months she has sat in silence, receiving the abuse from The Princess. It wasn’t always as such. Once upon a time, they were close. The Princess wanted to help Her. She had suffered so much before. People had broken Her, taking Her home, Her love, Her child, Her family, Her world. It had been through no fault of Her own. She had only been kind and naive. But they harmed Her, all the same. The Wicked prey upon the Weak. That is when the Weak must become Strong.
She and The Princess both suffered. That is why their bond was so great. The Princess had lost a child while Hers had been taken away. The Princess had sobbed over her loss and She was there to help her, holding her, listening, empathizing. The Princess had felt pain. Horrendous pain. So much innocence had been stolen. The Princess was suicidal. The Princess lived in darkness.
When She came, She was a light in The Princess’s world. She helped Her friend. She never spoke of Her Child for fear of hurting The Princess. She had no home. The Cruel had made certain of Her poverty. The Princess had taken Her in. She repaid her by helping with chores, giving money when She could and by doing everything She could to make The Princess happy. Every day was a celebration. She came to view The Princess as Her heart’s sister. She was slowly believing that not all people were cruel. The Princess was kind.
Then, the unforeseen happened. The Princess was with child! She was happy for Her friend, knowing how The Princess had longed for a child. Such love flowed from Her. It made Her smile to know a kind person had received luck in return!
She did not know what caused The Princess to change. She had done nothing to earn contempt. It was minor at first. Restrictions were made but She complied. It was not Her home and She wanted to make The Princess happy for being so kind . She could no longer bake cakes and sing songs. These happy things disturbed The Princess. Food that was once offered began to disappear. She went hungry. Still She smiled and sang Her songs.
Cruelty returned. The Princess had her child within her belly; she had no need for Her friendship. Laughter became forbidden. The Princess was irate, gluttonous, and hateful, hiding behind others to cause harm to Her. Every night, She cried, mourning another loss, wondering how fate could be so cruel to Her. And She found Herself without a home once again.
Tonight would be different. Depression can be channeled into Hate. She goes to grab an axe. The Axe. A silver savior, sharp and true. No fear of deceit within its cutting edge. She cannot think anymore. Her pain and suffering has all but over-ridden rational thinking. All She can do know is feel. And all She feels is HATE.
So there is no remorse when she takes up her axe and finds Herself in the home of The Princess once more. She moves down the hall into the bedroom, the weight of the beautiful weapon lighter than one would expect for such a heavy, heavy deed. She is silent and slow. There is no wondering on Her part about morality and turning back. She simply doesn’t want to wake The Princess. Not just yet anyway. She had woken Her just before She had been banished with laughter. The Princess had been evil and verbally abusive. Laughter had been forbidden.
She wants to laugh now. A twisted, gleeful sound, but She waits. The Last Laugh shall be Hers.
She approaches the snoring, grotesque creature. Her once friend and now The Final Straw of all She has suffered. She smiles and raises her arms high, axe gripped carefully in both hands. She knows how to use one.
Suddenly awaken from dreams, The Princess hears a maniacal laugh, nightmarish and louder than that night She had last stayed. The Princess opens her eyes and sees The Dark and only a glint of silver.
“’Heavy is the head that wears The Crown.’” The Princess hears from an all too familiar voice. It is the voice of Someone who has gone Mad.
“Perhaps it is time to remove such a burden.” continues She without missing a beat.
No more will She suffer someone’s cruelty without Her revenge.
NO MORE.
Jocelyn Turner November 17, 2009
Light Bulb Moment
You are a light bulb I can turn off and on. I can flip a switch and feel the electricity flow through the room, shining so brightly upon me, letting me see things more clearly and in vibrantly. But sometimes I get sick of you. You can be a harsh wake up call early in the morning. And when the Sun shines, you are pointless and irritating. You are a waste of my time.
Im turning you off now. I have been able to see in the Dark all of my life.
You are burnt out to me.
~Maeve Pendragon
Nov 8, 2009
Sometimes the world just stops….
and I feel isolated and alone. It’s like I’m under a spot light and the world is dark around me. I feel paralyzed with self doubt and loathing. I question the validity of my life, even though I’m normally happy with it. Eventually I just break down and give myself over to the despair.
Sometimes this lasts for days…sometimes just a few minutes. And then I pick myself up and the light turns off and the world stats turning again…. And I’m just another tear streaked face trying to get lost in the crowd.
-phin
Ensconced in the Rain
“I’m going for a walk.” I tell Robin and Sean. They give me a funny look because its All Hallows Eve and they expect me to be stirring some cauldron or writing angry things.
“Its going to rain.” Robin replies.
“I know that.” I answer.
I pull up the hood of my favorite jacket (the one with Sally Ragdoll on the back) and step outside. The trick-or-treaters have gone back inside for the night. Thats fine by me. I want to be alone.
I walk across the street and watch the road as it shines before me, an obsidian mirror of blacktop and water. I wonder if I can skry into it and see my future. I think not. Sometimes its better to be surprised.
The rain begins, as Robin predicted. I sigh and pull off my hood, letting it soak into my coal black hair, the ends curling as they always seem to do. My favorite jacket is getting soaked and my black clothes stick to me. I dont care. It feels right against my skin.
The parking lot across the street is abandoned. I can hide there and contemplate things. Things they will never know. While enjoying the rain. Suddenly I get the urge to hold my arms out and spin, singing as I do, laughing as I havent all day.
I feel renewed. I feel like me again.
I return into the house, taking off my shoes and rolling up my pants legs. They look at me in askance but I just smile to myself.
The things they will never know.
Sequestered
I can’t sleep at night for thinking of you
I love the sound of my feet against these empty streets
the cold wind against my skin,
my breath hanging in the air.
Floating thoughts
Like drifting clouds,
Like deep dark nights
Thoughts of sorrow
Thoughts of loss
such an awkward way
to spend the holiday…
its amazing how quiet this house is
when the world outside
it celebrates the new year
and I my new fears…
-phin
Black Swan (an excerpt of another Sassy and Delia adventure)
(Sassy St.Claire and Delia McNamara are new roommates at Cape Fear College where there is more drama than a Maury Povich episode)
Disclaimer:This has adult themes and language
Black Swan
It was dark and windy as we made our way to see Havok’s band play at Delia’s most hated gothic nightclub, The Inferno. She was pissed at him; I could tell. Donning her four inch platform goth boots, she practically stomped all the way down busy Burton Street, her six foot frame leaving short little me in the dust. Damn she was agile in those things. I was just waiting for her to stumble.
“This is what I get for perpetually sleeping with Havok Stevens!” she growled mostly to herself.
I felt kind of bad for her really since all of the patrons were mostly members of that creepy game of vampyres and victims she called “The Black Swan”. If a clique of my former friends ousted me out of their little group and called me a “blood traitor” I wouldn’t want to hang out with them either. But I had to admit I was curious about going to a gothic fetish club; we didn’t have those back in Fremont, population 800. (Big shock!)
“Well we didn’t have to go!!” I replied to her, panting as he long legs moved faster. I was about to break into a jog when we arrived at the surprisingly bland red metal door that led down below street level to the club. Underground indeed!!
“Sassy I know I have only known you for two weeks, but one thing you will learn is that when my mind is made up, it’s made up!! I am really getting tired of these poseurs exiling me for crappy reasons and I am tired of emo bands at Rue Morgue every Friday night! And really, Havok is pretty good in the sack and I made him a promise to come..of course I was on top of him in mid orgas-“
“TMI!!!!” I cried, putting my hands over my ears, a scantily dressed goth girl eyeing me critically as she pushed past and made for the door.
I love Delia Mc Namara, don’t get me wrong BUT there are some things roommates do NOT need to know!!!!
“Okay okay!!! Sorry!!” she grumbled. She was hesitating at the door.
“We can go home and watch a movie with Jack and Utah…” I reminded her.
“An evening of Will Ferrell flicks with your cousin Jack and his witty sense of sarcasm…mmmm…sign me up!!”
“He isn’t the only one.” I countered
“YOU just want to curl up with poor single Utah on the sofa under dim lights and a warm blankie!!” she smiled evilly
“DoNOT!!” I blushed.
“I’m not the only one with hormones either then!” She made for the door but stopped short right in front of it.
“Remember, these people are hardcore…you won’t need any documentation to get in and see the band play but if anyone asks you’re with me!”
“Documentation?”
“Paperwork from a doctor saying you don’t have any diseases that could be spread. You aren’t going into the backroom where they, um, yeah, so if anyone gives you shit, tell the YOU ARE WITH ME!!!”
She pushed the metal door open with gusto.
“Backroom?! Paperwork?! WHAAT?!?” I cried after to her but it fell on deaf ears; steel spine Delia was back and she marched up to the plastic window that resembled a movie ticket booth. A huge ugly steel door was beside it on the left and except for a little light inside the booth, the place was pitch. What on earth did she mean by “back room”? Why would I need paper work to get into a club unless maybe it was because I was only 17. But wouldnt that be my ID and not “paper work”?
“Delia!!” the guy behind the window exclaimed clearly in shock. He had dyed black hair, ivory skin and fangs for incisors. No shit. In my sad little Pac Sun attire I was feeling out of place again. I wondered about that ID but apparently I was covered.
Delia didn’t reply with any pleasantries; she slammed some money his way and looked him eye to eye.
“We’re here to see ‘Spin-psycho’; we’re here for Havok Stevens. I’m on his list Raoul so no bullshit okay?”
Raoul eyed all 120 pounds of me with interest.
“And YOU?” he asked all Vincent Price-ish
“She’s not a neophyte, she’s with ME!!!” Delia roared, speaking for me.
He grinned, baring his fangs and winked saucily.
“We’ve missed you, Delia! You and I had some pretty hot times if I can recall.”
“Yeah, okay, Five Minute Man.” she muttered but Raoul went on, not hearing her.
“Proceed!”
The door automatically opened into a small hall that led to a huge room with three stages, a bar, and other hallways leading to Goddess knows where and the loudest raver-goth music I had ever heard.
“You slept with Fangs back there?” I asked her in disbelief.
“Not a word….stick by me!!!”
The place was like something out of a porno circus. People were dancing around in next to nothing with glow sticks and piercing. There were couples (and more than two to a group!) around the whole perimeter just making out and doing all sorts of things I hadn’t even imagined doing with Utah!! The lighting was bad; lots of black and red and the place reeked of cigarettes and sex. I instantly felt like I had been living under a rock all of my life.
“Come on, I want some amaretto.” Delia sighed, pulling me toward the bar; ignoring the sneers and stares we received. I didn’t see any sign of Havok or his band but Delia pointed out her ex girlfriend Fatale and their vampyre groupies. They all stared in disbelief at us but didn’t start any crap. I could tell poor Dee felt uncomfortable so I suggested we go to the bathroom.
“Not the best idea in this place Sassy!!” she said, her head still hung down like she was Undercover Agent McNamara, NCIS.
“I have to pee!!” I pleaded, sounding four.
“FINE!!!” she sighed pushing me toward a hallway.
A Dracula-esque burly man sat behind a desk at the end of it to the left of an entrance-way. He must’ve been some sort of bouncer because it seemed he was checking Delia’s precious paperwork on his computer. We didn’t go that far down and Delia shoved me into a bathroom to the right.
“Ill be right back…I just saw Thanatos- the asshole who kicked me out of the “Black Swan” and I really really need a drink! Stay here until I get back Sassy, I will only be a minute!!”
Where would I go with rent-a-vamp in my way anyway?
The girl who was washing up looked very familiar to me and I recognized her from school…she was that Rayne Coffin girl Delia had spoken of and the same girl I had seen with that guy Harker. I had overheard their weird conversation about bondage and domination and Delia had explained that Harker was the leader of the Red Swans, an upper level of the vampyre clan and Rayne was his girlfriend and consort. It all sounded confusing to me but I was secretly fascinated. Rayne stared at me balefully and began applying more makeup to her already pale face.
She was gone when I started to wash my hands. I exited the grimy bathroom and looked for Delia. I saw her cornered by Thanatos himself, her arms waving expressively, obviously in a heated debate and not wanting to be there. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to be in this place alone but I had no desire to lock eyes with the leader of actual blood drinking nymphos with serious David Koresh complexes.
I glanced at the desk to see that Count Bodyguard had stupidly left his post…what an idiot!!! I looked back at Delia who was in Thanatos’s face, spilling her precious amaretto. I looked back at the open unblocked doorway. A sign hung above it I hadn’t noticed before…
“Abandon Hope Forever Ye Who Enter Here”.
It was the quote that hung above Hell from Dante’s work “The Inferno”. Clever.
Delia was shaking her head at Thanatos and Havok had come to her rescue looking perplexed. Damn my curiosity…I had to go in there!!!
As I made my way quickly to the backrooms, I tried to be as nonchalant as possible…. the rejected Thumper from “The Butterfly Effect” could return at any moment so I had to fly.
I was to the door frame when I heard it: the most agonizing blood curdling scream I had ever heard. (Damn what kind of freaks were these people?) Then I saw Rayne Coffin come out of a room, tears down her pale cheeks, her arms held out like a beggar woman from medieval England.
“OH MY GOD!!!!” she positively roared, tears and screams escaping from her face in brutal countenance. I ran as fast as I could, bouncer be damned, and the rude goth girl who snubbed me in the toilet just ten minutes prior reached out for me and sobbed against my shoulder.
“LOOK!!!” she howled, her face on my tank strap, her salty tears on my skin, left hand pointing.
I stared into the room we stood in front of and struggled to stand. There in a corner lay the dead body of her boyfriend Harker, his face blue from the leather strap that had choked him, his wrists bleeding from the razor sharp knife that had cut his veins. Blood was everywhere and I nearly fell in shock.
Abandon hope indeed!
Copyright 2007 to Maeve Pendragon/Jocelyn Turner. All rights reserved. None of this work may be printed or used without my permission.
(Im banging my head to Belinda Carlisle!)
Nocturnaphile
To know him is to love him
to love him, my whim
to feel my heart enshrouded
by willows weeping limb
The heart that once was made of stone
Its jaded ways now overthrown
The loneliness of myself
Is the fear I now disown
Our Death will be the sacred rite
The reborn souls will then unite
I bleed for you my perfect love
I am your Goddess of the Night
copyright by Maeve Pendragon/Jocelyn K Turner
..dont fuck with me haha
Touch
The fork is what is
remembered, the three
prongs curled into metallic
ribbons - shining silver
against gold skin.
The bicycle has a flat
tire and sits rusted
against the fence -
white paint chipped and faded.
The rain comes again.
Cool water gives life to
the land - destroys the
dirty secrets we hold
in the past.
The bed lies in pieces,
reflected in the broken mirror.
And the rain comes again…
-phin
For People Who RITE LIK DIS…
I have to post this, but I am putting a disclaimer- I’m no spelling and grammar Nazi. I can forgive typo-s and common misspellings. So someone uses 50 commas in one sentence or maybe even use a coma or two correctly in a sleepy sentence (see, I jest at typo-s), I get over it. After all, we aren’t here to proof read and edit, we share ideas. As long as I can understand the point of the writer, I don’t particularly care about the writer’s language expertise.
But here’s the thing:
All the sudden, there’s a rash of posts that slaughter our American language and I can’t understand it. Seriously, it’s like a foreign language. I read French better than I read the “new” version of internet English.
(Wait a second. I need a side-bar with you, dear reader. I’ve read a lot of posts lately, and well, some of them make me cry. Why? Because my fellow legal living patriots, you can’t seem to conjugate a verb. You forget that a paragraph is a necessary instrument when making something readable. Please, don’t write political, religious, or any other mainstream issue related posts without whipping out your spell check and grammar guide. Pretty please!! )
Now that that’s been said, (notice how I contracted that and is), back to the butchering.
Unlike my side-bar rant, this is super serious. These people who have made our beloved language into chopped liver have (wait for it…..) CHILDREN!! Can you imagine them helping at homework time? I shudder at the thought.
Here, let me pull some random items I found on Cafe Mom awhile ago and PLEASE note that I put the quotations up:
“My son don’t want to go to school”
Go with him, please.
“…very tendour and soar breast and im tired and urinating alot more could i be pregnet again already?”
I don’t know about you, but my breasts never soar. Bounce, maybe, but never will they take flight. (It’d be kind of cool if they did!) Ten-“dour”? I know I have a goth mentality but….
(PS- There is a time and place for everything. No one needs to be privy about what you do in the, well, privy…)
“has your kids every had cavitys”
There are so many things wrong here that my head spins, but I will settle for the obvious. In second grade, we learned that when we pluralize a word ending in “y”, we drop it and add “ies”. I have to say that this poster may have been too busy…
“be cause i cant do wat a wife is suppose to… “
Wait…what?!
“to younge “
Just because Dan Quayle did it doesn’t mean you need to add an “e” to everything!
“Can you get errested for “
Misspelling? No….not yet…perhaps one day…..
Please don’t.
Maybe we need the Grammar Police (or for these people, “Ploice”) to band together and destroy mistakes a third grader should know. I used to think any ass could use spell check. I was wrong.
Endings
coming every day,
taking more than i’m willing to give.
undeniable,
always there to twist and tear and grieve.
pieces stolen
in the darkness, leaving holes.
masked bandits with no remorse
for the innocence they stole.
-phin
