A Shitty Author

Light footsteps creep their way across the aged hardwood floor, each step making the ground creak beneath their bare feet; there was no way he was going to make it around without making at least some sort of noise, though he continued to recoil with each sound he made as he trekked across the room.

Where is it?

He bent down to look in a lone box sitting in the corner of the attic, carefully looking through its contents in hopes of stumbling across what it is that he’s looking for; his mission was a simple one, all things considered, though each passing moment spent in the dusty, worn down attic was enough to drive him mad, the number of boxes only making him want to throw himself down the stairs even more. The lid of the box hung open as he pulled multiple little trinkets from it, taking the time to look over every little thing with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

Who the fuck keeps an old Hannah Montana calendar in their attic?

Scrunching up his nose and continuing with his task was going to be the death of him, the contents in this large cardboard box driving him to the brink of insanity; there were things that were so questionable he considering tossing them out the small attic window before leaping out to join them, some of the things being a picture frame with the saying “Perfect!” with a picture of the crying Michael Jordan meme, a photo album full of the ugliest kids to ever walk planet earth, and another calendar of that cursed woman.

The sky, so pale and blue, always holding some kind of secret from our gazing eyes. Clouds always hanging above our heads with purpose, making the sky more than it seems. So beautiful.

You know what else is beautiful?

HIM!!!!!

LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!!

HE’S HERE!!!!!!

HE’S ABSOLUTELY STUNNING!!!!!!!!!!

I WOULD DIE FOR HIM!!! HE LOOKS SO WONDERFUL AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WOULD DO WITHOUT HIM!!!!

HIS NAME IS SQUISH AND HE USUALLY SITS ON MY BED AND WAITS FOR ME WHEN I’M AT SCHOOL!!!

SQUISH IS SUCH A GOOD BOY Y’ALL DON’T EVEN KNOW

SHIT I THINK I DID SOMETHING TO THE SETTINGS AND NOW I HAVE TO HIT THE SPACEBAR TO HAVE THE APOSTROPHE SHOW UP FUCK

ANYWAY, LET’S GET BACK ON TOPIC EVERYONE

HE’S SO FUCKING AMAZING YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M FEELING!!! I BOUGHT HIM ABOUT A WEEK AGO AND GOT HIM A FEW DAYS AGO!!! HE CURED MY DEPRESSION I THINK!!! HE HAS ADDED 50 YEARS TO MY LIFE!!!!

I WOULD 100% RECoMMEND HIM TO EVERYONE FOR EVERY OCCASION!!! SAD?? NOT ANYMORE!!! YOUR DOG DIED?? HERE’S A NEW GOOD BOY TO REPLACE IT!!!!! YOU JUST WANT A HUG??? LOOK NO FURTHER!!! (i’m not sponsored by this company i just really love my new son)

He was absolutely perfect.

Bright, joyous eyes that brought nothing but hours full of undeniable glee, each moment spent in his presence gifting me with happy smiles. I felt comfortable around him. It was something that I never expected.

I MEAN?????

LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!

IF YOU THINK HE’S NOT PERFECT YOU’RE LYING TO YOURSELF, YOU HEATHEN!!!!

HE’S VERY PLUMP AND SOFT ANd I LOVE HIM SO MUCH Y’ALL I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M FEELING

HE IS 100% SHAPED LIKE A FRIEND FELLAS

WHEN I HUG HIM HE GETS A LITTLE SMOOSHED BUT THEN HE GOES BACK TO BEING THIS PERFECT LITTLE BABY BEAN

PROS: ABSOLUTELY PERFECT

CONS: ABSOLUTELY NONE

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TEDTALK WHERE I RANT ABOUT THIS REALLY GOOD BOY

HE LOOKS SO READY TO WELCOME ME HOME FROM SCHOOL TODAY Y’ALL I’M SO FUCKING EXCITED TO HUG HIM WHEN I GET HOME Y’ALL DON’T EVEN KNOW

I MISS hiM ALREADY AND I’M TEMPTED TO BUY ALL OF THEM SO I CAN HAVE AN ARMY OF THESE LITTLE BEANS SOMEONE PLEASE DONATE TO MY PAYPAL OR SOME SHIT SO I CAN MAKE THIS PLACE GIVE ME ALL of THEM

FUCKING LOOK AT THEM THEY DON’T NEED THAT MANY THEY’RE BEING SELFISH

The perfect summer trip always seems just out of my reach; that bright ball of gas hanging in the sky always making me regret being an edgy, depressed thot as I wear either all black or sweatpants that set me on fire because my body doesn’t know what sweating is, my pale ass legs shining like a damn beacon if they’re exposed for too long, my pasty Irish skin warding off literally everyone because it looks like I’m dying, and fuck there are so many damn people everywhere you go during the summer because that’s just how normal humans be when it gets warm.

Y’all think I may write good or some shit but what the fuck stop lying.

It takes too much effort to make something worthwhile so I’m just gonna complain about how shitty summer is! :)

Onkst just fuckin’ zoomed to answer the phone and I think I got whiplash y’all someone call 911.

My white ass has no idea what this music is right now but I’m gonna pretend like I do.

Am I disappointing you guys yet

Anyway, back on the topic of why I’m so fucking ugly:

Reason One: what the fuck

Sometimes it just be like that

I look like a fat ghost just roaming the halls at this school and if you think otherwise you’re lying to yourself

What even is fashion eww gross

I don’t know but I wanted the list to be at 5

He felt like royalty the longer he sat on his throne, head propped up with his fist as his elbow rested on the arm of the luxurious seat to help him relax. His right leg was draped lazily over the other and pouncing at a slow and soothing pace, the limb trying to calm his rapid heart.

He felt like royalty but he felt like a disaster.

Sure, being in charge of a castle this large for a day seemed like a dream just out of every poor person’s reach, but there was something about the way the long, empty halls called out creatures from the void with the number of sickening shadows twisting up and down the rich tapestries. He heard voices echoing from the aforementioned hallways, shrill screams always pounding in his ears as he struggled to decide what was fiction and what was the reality.

What is happening to him?

The fist slowly unfurled as he sat up, watching the creature weave its way down the bright red carpet, clawed hands scratching at the floor as it pulled itself closer toward the new king. Its face resembled that of the old king, its cold, dead eyes boring holes into his skull as he feared to look away from the beast, skin going cold and losing its color as he swallowed the lump in his throat. His breathing grew heavy as it moved closer and closer to where he sat, each guilty memory resurfacing and reminding him of each thing that he’s done to get here. The people he’s hurt, the things he stole, the people he tossed aside.

These castle walls are painted with his sins.

I always feel like I’m running out of time

That I no longer have a choice

I’m a 17-year-old senior with a future I don’t agree with

But I’ve never had a voice

I’m told I need to make a decision

That I must have everything planned

But society sucks and I mean nothing

But all these thoughts are banned

I want to scream and escape this life

Maybe try for something greater

But I no longer have a choice

No matter how much I’ll regret it later

I want to feel like I’m not in a rush

Like life is mine to choose

But the longer I sit and think of the future

It’s more time I’m made to lose

“Why not write poetry?” I’m told in class

Here you go, it’s yours to read

Though remember that I had to take some time

To make this even though I disagree

With everything that my fingers type

Everything is no longer my own

I take the time to share my words

Even though it takes my time and effort

Only to be told that nothing will come of it

I mean every word when I say this

But I’m running out of time

I’m running out of things to say

I’m running out of time

I want to take a break and rest

But doing so will waste my time

Please tell me that what I’m doing is worthwhile

Please tell me that things aren’t rushed

Please tell me that things go by slower than I think

He lay comfortably on his pale blue beach towel, his glasses over his eyes and his arms resting behind his head as a small pillow against the lumps of sand he found himself on. His umbrella was propped up in the sand to his right to provide some shade from the sun’s harsh, beaming rays so he wouldn’t go home a lobster instead of a man. He shifted every other minute to ensure there wasn’t any sand underneath his swimming trunks, pulling the wedgie out so he could lay back down and rest some more.

“SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!”

He sighed happily and ignored the calls for help, his right leg bending for him to prop his left one over it, the left slowly bouncing in a soothing rhythm. There was another screech and a loud crash followed by angry, fearful yelling that he wished he could block out. Remembering the earplugs he had in the bag that was near the pole of the umbrella he moved only his arm to try finding them without too much effort, thankfully finding them before having to sit up and ruin the moment he made for himself.

The moment he put the earplugs in his ears, he was relieved; there were no more unnecessary loud noises to rob him of his vacation time and now he could sit in a comfortable silence, something that he had been meaning to get for years now.

He shifted again, something long and rubbery caught under his elbow. When he went to move, he tugged at it a little too harshly and the happiness ended.

The sun that was once so bright and fiery in the sky had shut off leaving the man to sit in the dark. His shades were almost immediately pulled down from his face in agitation, seeing that his beautiful creation was destroyed.

The “sun” was unplugged only moments prior thanks to him tugging at the cord, the oversized lamp drowning the room in an empty void of black, the sand under his towel moving from under his towel and to the hardwood floors around him, his umbrella close to falling on the floor beside him. He could see the disaster around him; flames and smoke rising to the sky, dead bodies, and chaos of all shapes and sizes.

He placed his glasses back over his eyes and lay down with a reluctant sigh.

Blood caked the left side of her face thanks to a harsh swing by a baseball bat she took not too long ago, her nose dripping the same crimson liquid thanks to her nose smacking the pavement at her feet. Her body and muscles screamed for her to stay on the ground where she had fallen, her eyes going against her and hiding behind her eyelids so she wouldn’t be made to see her surroundings. Had she kept her mouth shut, none of this would have happened to her in the first place.

All because of her interference.

She listened to the cries of fear from her friends as they tried to get her attention, one after the other as they urged her to get up off the ground. She couldn’t bring herself to move more than an inch or so before giving up thanks to the throbbing pain ringing about in her skull.

“Please, get up!”

Their words meant nothing as she lay there to rot, her mind slowly tugging her towards the black void that is unconsciousness; there was nothing she could do to stop it until she heard the padding of footsteps retreating from her pitiful form, the large, booming steps from the steel-toed boots getting closer and closer to the friends she was so eager to protect.

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

It took every ounce of energy for her to rise to her feet, the task harder than expected thanks to her wrists that were tightly bound together with handcuffs. She nearly collapsed on multiple occasions though once her feet were securely beneath her she held her ground with the strength she needed to carry on.

“I’m counting this as an interference,” she said, her eyes locking with the same man who had deemed her friends fit for his torture.

He absolutely adored dogs.

Dogs of all shapes and sizes could be seen following his comrade around from time to time, each dressed to impress in their own ninja gear as they lounged around with their summoner. He treated each dog like they were his own as they all found a cool, shaded area to relax in a nice, cozy pile as he read his books.

Man, did Ari adore Kakashi.

HIS DOGS!

HE ADORES KAKASHI’S DOGS!

Ari got flustered at the thought, watching Kakashi relax with his book propped open and a dog, Pakkun, curled up on his lap. The hand that wasn’t holding the book open was lazily petting the dog as they relaxed, Pakkun closing his eyes and melting at his touch.

Ari wants a dog.

Now that his brother had left him, Ari didn’t have any other family members to turn to for company. He roamed his house alone in the dead of night with a frown on his face, bored out of his mind with no one to keep him company but his thoughts. He spent most of his time away thanks to this, hours spent training in various fields and clearings to keep his mind off the nagging thoughts that were relentless in his head.

A dog would be nice.

He was always afraid of getting a dog because he feared he’d never have time to care for it, though he never really thought about the free time he’d have to care for it. He’s convinced himself that he’s always busy even though his schedule is filled with some form of excessive training. He’s always worried he’ll never be able to provide for the dog like he would be for himself.

He sat on the bench just on the outskirts of the small park, book propped open with one hand while the other rested on a water bottle he messed with from time to time. His attention was solely focused on the story he held in his hand, mind soaring through the world the assortment of words had made for him. Nothing could take him from the piece of eye candy before him.

The younger boy sat beside him on the bench with a huff, his face dripping with sweat and his large black glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He collapsed more than he sat down, treating the bench as if it were his own sofa as his chest continued to rise and fall rapidly. He took one look at the older man who was busy reading a book, the younger’s attention grabbed by the title.

“What the hell are you reading?”

The elder man, Ari, looked to the teenage boy with a brow raised as he looked over his current state. It wasn’t often he was willing to look up from his book to acknowledge whatever had decided to disturb him so the fact that he was looking at a sweaty child annoyed him greatly.

“What does it matter?”

The teen’s brows furrowed at this, his cheeks inflating as he left out an impatient huff to signify that he wasn’t looking for an answer like that. His eyes skimmed the title once more before looking in a different direction, hoping and praying that his older brother would show soon to take him home.

“I was just asking, buddy. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

Ari had never wanted to slap the shit out of a kid so bad before, his hand nearly tearing the lid off his water bottle in the process of cooling down. First, the child had the nerve to interrupt him from reading peacefully by calling out to him and ruining his sense of smell thanks to the whiff of sweat he caught, but now the kid thought that getting an attitude was appropriate.

She dreams of a world where she’s deemed important; the people that she surrounds herself with treat her with the respect she’s spent her whole life searching for, the characters and worlds that she’s made up in her mind exist and remind her that she’s made something worthwhile, that the things she’s wished to do over the years are able to be accomplished without her being told that it’s impossible.

She dreams of waking up each and every day with a smile on her face, a new reason to wake up each time. She thinks about being able to sit up in bed so early in the morning and smile at the thoughts of everything she’s going to accomplish that day, knowing that she has a full life ahead of her where anything can happen.

She dreams of getting a good night of resting in, not plagued by her racing thoughts and hallucinations that haunt every waking moment of the night. She thinks of being able to rest her head against her pillow and closing her eyes, her blanket not forced over her head because she fears the things she’ll see if she takes a quick peek around her. She thinks of only happy things racking her thoughts the moment her eyes close as she drifts into the comfortable state of unconsciousness where sleep and dreams engulf her.

She dreams of not finding each waking moment a struggle or obstacle to overcome that’s only there to cause her but another moment of grief. She thinks about doing her daily tasks with enthusiasm rather than with reluctance, her mind never gnawing at her for making even the slightest mistake. She thinks about being satisfied with where she is and where she’s going. She doesn’t fear to age any longer and lives out her life to the fullest.

She dreams of no longer trying to keep herself together. She’s fine just as she is.

She’s horrid in person, and she dreams of changing.

She’s nothing important any longer.

She’s me.

And I’m dreaming for something better, anything better than the mess you see before you today. I’m dreaming for things to go my way for once without seeming needy. I’m dreaming for a better life. I’m dreaming for things that may never come true.

The pen moved across the blank sheet of paper eagerly, the words flowing together smoothly to help get out the thoughts. She pictured worlds far different from her own, characters deep and complex, and situations she knew she would never see for herself. There was so much running through her mind the longer the ink formed sentences, the pen seemingly moving on its own as she blanked. She had visions for the places she wished to see, the people she wished to meet, the scenarios she wished to experience, and there was no better way to do so than by creating them with her own hand.

Her back ached from sitting in the same hunched position as she continued to write what she wished would be shared, an occasional smile popping up as she thought over the things that could be. The things that she yearned for the most. The lives she wished to experience.

When her pen reached the end of the page she was quick to flip it to another, her train of thought never stopped or thrown off; she always had some idea of where she was going even if she wasn’t always fond of it, though she held her pen with courage and continued to trek through the unknown.

The paper was once again filled with words that complement one another nicely, her notebook progressively filling with more and more words with each passing minute of the day. She had bags under her eyes, messy hair, and baggy clothing, but she was sure to keep writing no matter what the costs were.

She was tired though she refused to show it. She was terrible at verbally communicating so she would rely on her pen and paper to express herself. She was always worried that what she’s doing is wrong or boring no matter how many times people have assured her. She takes the pen and keeps writing, hoping that someday she’ll eventually come to terms with the person she’s become.

She relies on her pen.

He was filled with a sense of peace as he lay on the forest floor, eyes gazing up at the canopy of trees that rose high above his head. His hands lay on his stomach and his breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling rapidly as he attempted to remain calm. There were deep gashes on his arm and torso that were sure to get infected without proper treatment, but as his vision slowly began to fade to black he knew it wouldn’t matter in the end.

“Can you teach me how to do this shot?”

His little brother looked at him expectantly, eyes bright and full of life as he awaits an answer. The basketball in his hands was nearly as big as his head though he paid it no mind as he hopped up and down in excitement. Deciding against leaving his brother to play alone, he took the ball from the small hands and walked with him over to their makeshift goal.

“Just bend your knees and toss it,” he said, “just don’t do anything weird and it should get in the goal. Don’t throw it too hard or too gentle or it won’t make it.”

He watched his brother take the stance immediately after the words left his lips, forcing himself to hold back a snicker at the determined face his brother was making. As he went to throw the ball, he did this little hop along with it to help the ball go higher thanks to his shorter size, watching with bated breath as it soared through the air.

Swish!

His brother jumped and cheered with enthusiasm the moment the ball went through the hoop, his little arms wrapping around his sibling to thank him for his advice.

His leg moved feebly as he made some attempt to move his aching limbs though nothing came of it as it soon dropped to the ground once more. His lungs burned thanks to some gases he had breathed in only moments prior, vision blurry and coughs breaking the silence.

He wanted peace.

He wanted his brother to be okay.

There was a certain tint of blue in his eyes that set him apart from the others, his eyes gleaming in the light of the bright summer day. He never held a frown on that face of his, tanned skin lifted upwards as he showed that dazzling smile that had most swooning. His long hair was currently kept back in a low, messy bun to get it out of his way, a few strands breaking free that he’d occasionally be forced to swipe behind his ear.

There was a certain bright blue in the sky overhead that he’d find himself gazing upon when he had but a moment of free time. Sweat was gleaming on his forehead from the work he was made to do day in and day out, though taking one look up at the puffy white clouds and the free blue sky was enough to give him so much energy to complete his task.

There was a certain shade of blue he had come to adore, mainly because it was the color a certain someone was made to wear. It was a darker blue, the kind of blue that you’d mistake for black the longer you’d look at it. The kind of blue that has absolutely no business being that dark of a color as well as having absolutely no business looking so good on him.

There was a certain man.

He never felt accepted.

His parents treated him as an outcast, never good enough to meet their ridiculously high standards. His elder brother was a child genius who never made any mistakes, so he had to follow the same path, right? He had to graduate from the academy at an early age and become one of the village’s elite assassins all before the age of fourteen years old. He had to score perfectly on every test until then and rid the world of every evil that just happened to threat their lovely home.

Perfect Ani.

Kenji watched his fourteen-year-old brother at the mere age of seven as he was promoted to the rank of jonin; the party held to celebrate him was large and extravagant as everyone that just so happened to know anything of the family had made sure to show up in their best suits and dresses, faces never dropping as they spewed compliments that fell on his ears. His brother had promised to play with him today since he was usually too busy to leave his room, but Kenji watched as he was dragged away by a small group of family friends.

Perfect Ani.

Even as he packed his belongings to leave the house for good, his parents treated him like a circus freak who was meant to be caged, only shown to the people for a good laugh or trick. He wasn’t anything to them if he wasn’t able to fit the role. With his bags gripped tight and the weight on his shoulders lifted he made his way to the front door, his head held high and his gaze determined.

Perfect Ani.

His brother had stopped him before he had left, Ani’s pooling blue gaze seeming to drown out every harsh word Kenji wished to say. He looked like he knew there was nothing left for him to do, that even as the older brother he wasn’t able to take control of the situation any longer. He held out a hand with reluctance, a sad smile gracing his pale lips.

“You’re still my little brother.”

Perfect Ani.