I place powder and lipstick on my face so that I can cover up the imperfections I didn’t know I had till the media pointed out to me. My stomach is not flaut enough and my waist is not thin enough. I don’t have an hourglass figure nor will I ever have one. Yet my boobs are not big enough nor is my butt. My lips can never be full enough no matter what I do. I want to claw at my skin because it can never be perfect. The pimple that meant I was growing up has now become a problem.

I hold my body close to me even though I’m conditioned to hate it and as I see someone that is prettier than me I realize that I can never be a ten. I look in the mirror that should be broken from my reflection with the way I look. My mascara is down my face as I cry in the corner trying to comfort myself.

A million beauty products, a million routines and yet the ugly never goes away. The ugly I reference is my face. The face that I loved so much as a child but now a teen, I hate it. Without a little makeup I feel insecure even though people say it doesn’t change the way I look. I shudder at the thought of someone seeing a pimple on my face.

Body positivity, I can fake it. I know what clothes make me look good or what clothes that are baggy that you don’t know what’s underneath it. I’m short and I wear heels to make me look taller even though they hurt my feet. Makeup takes too long but I do it anyway.

You have people cutting their wrist and killing themselves because they can’t reach the perfect them. Even though the perfect them is the one they see. Comparing themselves to one another like a sick and twisted game. A game we didn’t sign up for but rather were pushed into it.

I don’t want to be part of this game but I am and I don’t know how to get out. I’m at the point where I care about people’s stares, strangers I don’t know nor will ever get to know. What do they think about me? I don’t know but I input the worst things about me into my head. I could pick out my faults faster than I can my family.

Perfection, I can never reach it. I know this. I walk a broken path of beauty standards that I’ll never reach. I’m on Earth and they’re the stars. My children will grow up in a world were the looks they got from their parents will be called ugly because it isn’t the new thing.   

How am I supposed to tell my children to love themselves, when I can’t even love myself?  

She was everything to me. I never honestly know why but I did know that I would drop everything for her. If she needed advice or help, I would be there at the other side of the screen. Typing away words that may help her.



Devils Don’t Always Have Horns #2

She was the daughter to the Sun God. The Sun God loved to dance in the flowers and being outside. Though his daughter would just sit in the flowers and look at them. She never touched them or anything, she even stopped giving him hugs at five. She swore when she came back from Title Choosing that she was the God of Happiness but she never looked happy herself.

She was also the daughter of the strong Moon God. The Moon God loved her daughter as much as she loved the night. Her daughter would look at the animals that would come out at night while the Moon God was covered head from toe with them. As they would surrounded her.

Now a teenager she was stunning unlike any God. They compared her to the God of Beauty and Vanity but she overshadowed them. White hair of the moon and golden eyes of light. Smooth and delicate skin of porcelain. Her wings the purest of white littered with gold and silver.

Her voice could put all the children of the Middle World to sleep making the God of Song and God of Music listen to it for days. She painted the most realistic and detailed paintings and portraits, making her get praised by the God of Color and the God of Art every time.

Her writings could mess with your feelings causing the God of Literature adore her like a sister. She was more selfless than the God himself and more kind than the God herself. To top off it all off her wisdom put the God of Wisdom to shame.

She had no interest in love not even when the God of Love talked to her. She would always tell the God of Love one thing, ‘I’m still young I have an eternity to find my true love for now I’ll indulge in my interest.”

She grew another dislike to fighting and war. The Gods of Fighting and Hunt all talked to her but she never dared picked up a weapon. ‘In war there is only winner and that winner ends up all alone in the end. So did they really win?’ Was all she would say.

The Sun God was still concerned of his daughter so he sought after advice from his wife the Moon God. She was a soldier protecting the Middle World of the things that lurk at night, while her husband was a priest that cleansed souls that got tricked by the evil that slipped through.

“So what if our daughter doesn’t look happy?” She spoke bluntly. “Just because someone doesn’t look a certain way doesn’t mean their not that. Like if I have a green apple and I dye it red people would say I now have a red apple but when they bite into it, it would still be a green apple. Outer appearances doesn’t mean nothing.”

“What about her behavior? She’ll only touches things that aren’t alive.”

“I don’t know about that one but does it really matter. Our daughter is like us she may not like running and being in the flowers but she likes being outside. She may not like fighting or animals but she loves to paint the night. Our daughter may be a little different but aren’t we? Before we turned to Gods I was the Moon and you were the Sun. I died and so did you every day so that the other one could breath because that’s how much in love we were. So let our daughter be her.” With that the Moon God whipped away all of the Sun’s God worry to only bring herself to worry about different matters.

“Shouldn’t we be talking about the recent disappearances in souls in the Middle World. It’s not like it’s wicked souls it’s more good souls than bad ones. It’s not the work of anyone in the UnderWorld either. Who could be doing this?”

He hugs his wife that starts to panic. “Don’t worry we’ll get through the bottom of this together.” They didn’t know finding out who it is will cause them more pain then dying.

One day the God of Joy went to the Middle World where she was approached by a man. She sat in flowers and the man stood above her. He wore a hood and his face could not be seen.

“What’s your name?”

“Joy.” She says flinching as he gets closer her hands into tight fist.

“Why are you sitting on the ground?”

“I can’t walk.” And that’s when he sat in front of her almost making her scream. This person was dangerous but she can’t get up or so he thought.  Why did she ever come to the Middle world at night? Well that was obvious she loved looking at the stars but she should’ve brought a weapon.

“Now why is a God in the Middle World at night you might meet people like me.” He takes off his hood and a demon is shown. He has a wicked smile, bright red eyes and a scar from his left forehead to his right cheek, this is the God of Chaos. Wings come from his back and black feathers litter the ground. “I wonder what your soul will taste like.” He says clicking his claws together. When she sees him in his God form something in her snaps.

The God in front of him doesn’t look at him with fear she just laughs hysterically. “I’m kinda glad your a God and not a mortal I was tired.” Her voice and even her aura changes. She gets up and shows her own set of sharp claws, her teeth sharp like a shark. Her eyes a dark red and insane. Her hair black of night. She unfolds the blackest of wings covered with red of fire and black powder of ash. Her spring dress doesn’t hide her legs and arms which are covered head to toe in symbols meaning it’s own things.

The God of Chaos looks at the once innocent God in shock how did she turn into this even the God of Death and Evil wouldn’t mess with her. Before he can react her hand is in their chest and she pulls out a black shadow as big as a pool ball but with smoke coming from it. It fit in her palm perfectly. She took the soul and ate it. The God of Chaos before her turned into nothing but ash.

“Now you messed up.” A mad but sweet voice says in her head.

“Ah you hush, I never get to have fun in the Upper World and we both decided that we would go to the UnderWorld today.” She says out loud. She looks as the moon glows darkly. “Everything is falling to place.”

Up In The Upper World

The Moon God gets ready to go out for the night when the God of Order approaches her and her husband.

“Moon and Sun I need to inform you. The God of Chaos has died just moments ago.”

“What do you mean he died? Who killed him?” Moon ask.

“I have to reveal another secret. With me being the God of Order I am also the God or Secrecy. I know everything but can’t tell. Your daughter isn’t the God of Happiness she’s the God Yang and Yin but instead into evolving into the God of Balance she developed split personalities. The one who has been killing both good and bad souls and even the person who killed the God of Chaos is your daughter.”

“What do you mean she’s always in her God form and we never seen this other personality. She even refuses to fight.” The Sun God says shocked.

“Let me show you.” She holds up a clear ball and it replays the meeting and fight of Chaos and Joy.

“She really is split.” Moon says her eyes casted downwards. “No wonder she didn’t want to touch anything. Yang knew that if she touched anything it would reveal the identity of Yin.”

“Why didn’t we notice something was up.” Sun says and Moon only walks away to the Middle World Portal.

“Because not all devils have horns.” She yells back and her husband runs after her.

They arrive at the Middle World in front of their daughter who only smirks when she sees them. “Oh no Mom and Dad found out. Let me think God of Secrecy?” She looks at them and they don’t move. “I’ll take that as a yes. I know what’s going to happen you’re going to cast me to the UnderWorld. Don’t worry I’m going there anyway.” She says leaning on the heels of her feet.

“Wait we weren’t going to banish you to the UnderWorld.” Sun says and Moon nods in agreement.

“Oh well I don’t care. I’m really tired of being a perfect God. Boring. Mom you probably said it before you left not all devils have horns and in that you are correct. Bye-bye.” She waves as she falls back into a deep hole that closes up quickly.

Tears falls from Sun’s face and this causes it to be coldest it has been in years. Moon doesn’t cry she tries to stay strong but this only breaks her causing the moon itself to break and causing the people to panic for days on end as pieces fall from the sky.  

In The UnderWorld

The God Yin sits on a throne while in the first few days here she betrayed Yang and Yang died. Ruling the UnderWorld she smiles peacefully. One year that’s all it took for her to defeat the Gods that opposed her and make everyone bow to her.

A shadow sits on the arm to her throne. The women told her many stories everyday and even her name which shocked Yin shadows don’t have names. In return Yin did the same thing without knowing giving the shadow a bit of human each day. They would exchange stories and the shadow would go to the Upper World with the help of Vanity and tell Sun and Moon of their daughter everyday for years to come. In return Sun would give the shadows a bit of body everyday and Moon would give the shadow a bit of life everyday.

Then one day the shadow was no longer a shadow she was a person. Her hair was brown and so was her eyes. She wasn’t the smartest and wasn’t the prettiest. She sometimes wasn’t good with words or people. Even though she wasn’t perfect like a God she still spread her words across all worlds. Not all Angels have Halos but not all Devils have Horns.

She could still get in all worlds and visited every God. The God of Vanity and Selfless had the strongest brother and sister relationship among Gods. Sun and Moon choose to have no more children and has been in multiple fights with the UnderWorld and their daughter. Though they fight for two different teams they are not bitter to one another.

In The Middle World

That was something Gods didn’t understand and would probably never grasp but what does the once cursed God of Human care about those Gods she was the only one who lived in the Middle World.

The God of Humans shakes her head. “Not all stories have a happy ending.” She says to her son after telling him the two stories she had of the Gods both below and above. She looks down at her now sleeping son.

The story of Yin. When she told me the reason why she went into the UnderWorld she broke my spell. The reason Yang agreed to go to the UnderWorld was to keep Sun and Moon safe. Yin was more powerful than Yang. Yin was just a storm of chaos ready to take over, so Yang locked herself away in their mind. When Sun and Moon was told this gold and silver danced across the skies for days giving every soul in the Middle World hope.

”How can the God of Humans not understand Humans? Humans are two words. Perfectly, imperfect” I still remember her voice.

“Two words perfectly, imperfect.” I sing into the skies.


Look At Me

I never believed in angels until I met him, an angel who fell. Though he’s not with me anymore I still think about him everyday. He helped me see the light in the day again. I owe him a debt I can never repay.
A little girl maybe ten cries over a gravestone. Tears seep through her palms and onto the marble. The gravestone says two names.

            In Loving Memory of David and Grace Willow.
Loving Mother and Loving Father

1985-2005 DW
1984-2005 GW

The dream is interrupted by a steady beep. I wake up to smell medicine. Looking around I see a white room with white titles. Wires are connected to my arms and hooked up to machines.

My body is weak like always when I end up in these places. It’s a hospital. With the little strength I have tears come out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I failed again.

“Don’t cry.” I hear a voice say out of nowhere and look around. A man my age walks to me. He wears normal clothes. He doesn’t work here. Who is he?

“Who are you?” Where are the nurse? How can they let a random stranger into my room.

“My name is Lukas Light. Just call me Luke.”

“Why are you in my room? I don’t know you.”

“I don’t know you either but that’s okay.” He grabs a clipboard from by me bed. “Raven Willow. Nice to meet you Raven.” He flips a page and flinches. He flips the board over to me so I can see it. “Eight times you were in here all for the same thing. Suicide. Why?”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

A nurse comes in and ask me how I’m doing. I shrug her off and she helps me sit up. I find it strange that she didn’t mention anything about the guy she didn’t even look at him.

“Hey do you see him.” I point to where he stands.

“Are you sure you’re okay. You’re hallucinating.” She says concerned.

“Yeah I must. I’m fine now though, I don’t see him anymore.”

She leaves reluctantly. “I’m a ghost.” He burst out when she closes the door.

“Yeah I got that when she didn’t see you. I may be suicidal but I’m not crazy.”

“I’m shocked usually people freak out when they learn I’m a ghost.”

“I’m too tired to deal with you. You could be a zombie for all I care about. Now leave.”

“No.” He says walking over and sitting on the edge of my bed.


“I’m a ghost and I’m stuck in this world right now. I thought I might as well have some fun and you just so happened to be my target.”

“I already hate you.” I snicker.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in a two weeks.” He disappears in thin air. I thought he would leave me alone but I was surely mistaken. In two weeks he came back around.

“Get out of my house you freeloader.”

“But your house is so nice. Please just let me stay here for a week.” He begs.

“Whatever. You’re giving me a headache. Stay if you like.” I go to my kitchen and open my medicine cabinet. He whistle behinds me.

“These are all prescribed. One, two, three.”

“There are only twenty.” I burst out picking a bottle and pouring out three tablets, washing them down with water. “I’m going to bed get comfortable.”
With her being asleep I take the advantage to rummage around in her apartment. I find a box closed with nails and wrapped ten times with sharp wire stored in the attic. I put my hand through the wood and take out photos or a small kid with their parents. Then photos of the kid alone and the parents together, alone and when they were younger.

I take the photos and hang them on the hallway walls. Next I go in her cabinet and take out all her pills. Most of these are for anti-depressions. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds.
I wake up. I didn’t have a dream. It’s good I have medicine. I open my door and my heart races. I start to breath heavily and fall to the ground. I close my eyes tightly as tears burn out. I cover my ears with my hands. No I don’t want to hear the voices.

“Come on Raven.” A vision of my Dad’s hand extended out to me comes to mind.

I open my eyes not wanting to see it and come face to face with their pictures and the girl that died.

No matter what I do, close my eyes or keep them open their always here. I scream scraping my throat and burning my lung.

Hands grab my arms and push me down. I land on the ground with a thud. “Look at me and only me.” Luke shouts at me. “Breath. In and out. In and out.”

I do as I’m told and my body stops shaking. My breath even outs. “Don’t scream.” He says shakily. A tear falls onto my face and he puts his head into the crook of my neck.

I didn’t know ghost could cry.

It’s been five days since my panic attack. My apartment actually looks like someone lives there. Pictures hang on the walls of my childhood. I threw out my medicine and blades. I even painted the walls. I smile remember how Luke helped me make my house look like me. I still never told him my story and he never told me his but that’s what made me accept his advice more than others because he wasn’t trying to force me to tell him.

I thought he was kind of annoying at first though. I never thought he would show me to not be scared of the dark but to embrace it. We would talk for hours and I would never get bored. When I would burst into tears or have an attack he would be there telling me to breath or whispering things like it’s okay or look at me. He even told me to express myself in an artistic way. I didn’t think I would be good at drawing.

I look down at my sleeve tattoos filled with flowers. They cover up my scars. No they don’t cover up my scars, the scars will always be there, no they just show how much that I grew.

I look at the sky. I never watched the sunset before. It always scared me. I sit outside on a bench. When the sun sets I get up and start to walk. Thunder crackles over head and it starts to rain. I shiver as I only wear a shirt and pants.

“Raven where are you going? It’s raining.” Luke says behind me. He must of saw me leave.

“I’m not stopping so you better follow.” I yell behind me.

We end up at a cemetery. I walk to the two gravestones. I haven’t been here since ten but I can never forget the path. I sit in front of the graves and so does Luke.

“When I was younger we were taking a trip. We were fine but someone was driving this truck and they were drunk. Before my Dad could do anything the truck smashed into our car and flipped it over. They died and I lived.” I laugh running my hands over the names. “I shocked the doctors since I was barely a body. Of course living came with sacrifice. I lost my left lung, broke exactly fifty three bones in my body, and had panic attacks almost everyday either hearing their voices, having dreams about them or the crash, or just a simple memory. I wished when I was younger that I would die everyday. When I healed it was to one foster home to another, no one wanting the broken doll. Until I was eighteen and left on the street. I did have a job luckily, getting an apartment with rats.”

I point to the empty space next to their plots. “When I saved roughly two thousand dollars I spent it right away. See the empty plot next to them. That’s mine. I bought it for my nineteenth birthday present.”

“I’m sorry.” Luke says looking at the plot and not me.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Luke gets up and takes off his shirt. Two jagged lines go down his back. “In 2005 I was an angel of death. I was suppose to bring all three of your souls into heaven. Your parents begged me to let you live. It was against protocol but I let you live. When I went back to heaven I was ripped of my wings and thrown out of heaven.”

“Look at me.” I say softly. He doesn’t move nor does he look at me. “I said look at me!” I yell. He turns his head and I see small tears roll down his face.

I grab his face and put his forehead to mine. “Don’t apologize. I don’t want pity. People have been trying to give me it even since I was ten and I always rejected it. Just thinking that my parents wanted me to live beyond them just gives me another reason to live.” I get up and put my hand out to him.

“Let’s go home before I get sick.” He grabs it and I pull him up.
The sun is setting when I watch as the truck smashes into the smaller car. The smaller car flips and parts fly off of it. I go up to the car and grab a man and woman souls first. The woman and man look at each other. They don’t say anything but stare at each other. That’s understandable they just did die but then they do something strange. The nod and turn towards me.

“Can you do us a favor?” The woman speaks. “You see our little girl in the back. She’s our daughter can you let her live?”

That’s impossible. I know it is. That would be treason. I go to the girls side not considering their word when I slip up. Instead of grabbing her soul through her chest I touch her forehead. Her emotions flow through me body. For the first time since becoming an Angel tears fall onto the ground. I’ve touched people’s foreheads by accidents before but this the first time that I cried.

I turn around from the body and grab the man and woman. “Fine. She’ll live.”

I don’t remember much after that. Not when I came back, the trail, not even when I fell but I remember my wings being pulled off. It didn’t hurt but it made me be able to breath again. I felt human again. Then I remember visiting her in a hospital and she screamed for what seemed like hours. Panicking and in pain. Yeah she was the only one I met that made me cry.

I wake up being shaken by two sets of hands. “It’s time for you to come back. You served your sentence.”

“Okay just give me a second.” I write a note and in between look at the woman and man looking down at Raven with smiles on their face. Snapping a picture I place the camera and letter on her bedside table.

“I’m ready Mrs, Mr Willow.”
Lily Willow
I look at my Mom’s grave. Instead of crying I smile. I read the back of her gravestone, She said it was letter from her one and only true love.

Your scars does not mean your weak, your tears does not mean your broken, your panic does not mean you failed, your scars are not your mistakes, you know what they mean to me. They mean you’re strong and that you have grown. You have blossomed like the flowers on your arms.

My Mom was always weird she took chance on me the one girl who has been to multiple homes for my own panic attacks and social anxiety. She had one room just for a single painting. I went in their after her death. It was one whole wall covered, a painting of a guy with black wings that shined. It brought you to tears and you didn’t know why. At the bottom of the painting it had the words My Only True Love and a saying. If you’re scared of the dark then light a match it’s as easy as that. One wall had a girl holding her parents hands with the words Don’t Forget. One wall had a two people looking at each other with the words Look At Me. The last wall has flowers surrounding a girl with black wings that glows like the guys with two set of words I Can’t Imagine Living Without My Battle Scars and My Scars Will Always Be There They Just Show How Much I Grew.

It’s like her life in four pictures. “I hope she’s happy with her love.”
“Can I tell her?” Luke says next to me.

“No.” I say bluntly. He pouts and I smile. “You can tell her when she dies. Let’s not show her the after life till she’s ready.”

“Oh, look who has learned.” Luke smiles giving me a light kiss.

“Whatever.” I lean on his shoulder and we talk watching the sunset for the hundredth time.


It was simple. Maybe not to many, but when it’s engraved into your brain as a child, it becomes simple. A freak was I or imperfect were they? I would say we are both to blame.

Though a proud man will never admit to this shame. Though did he feel any shame or did he feel pride from us freaks? We’ll never know as he won’t speak to us, he won’t look at us, and he doesn’t know us. He speaks to a machine that is broken and looks at our colors and what we discover. He knows our program not us.

He can only see a bed full of flowers, but in reality we are nails. He walks on clouds never noticing it’s shattered glass. What can we do? Everyone only sees lies. Is that what makes them imperfect? Then once again we ask to a program that is broken. What can we do? The program was ill, the program was sick in the head. With it’s last dying breath the program said.

   “End it.”

End all their pain or ours? That line became blurry and so did we as our lies become truths that they foolishly believed. Soon our bodies twitched in agony as we ourselves became sick in the head. Our minds fuzzed up like a broken tv. Our colors shined one last time and faded to the most basic. We were broken and dying as we ended it. Now I lay on a black ground,  cold, and motionless.

When I feel something touch me, I open my eyes to see the program holding out their hand. “Have I ended it.” I cried.

They shook their head and nodded to the blackness around us. “No my dear you have not.” They said with tearful dread. “All you did is restart both of our pain and theirs but that my dear is fine. We should enjoy the extra time.”

The Program didn’t smile at this time, the program didn’t do anything. They have become frozen in place and then their body glitches. With a gloom I get up looking down at my body, I do not glitch or am I cracked anymore.

Colors spill on the ground, our bodies become once we were before. I look at the imperfect as they look in horror at me. Now you see what we can be or do you see our power you fool? That is a question I rather not get answered that is my last question as I become with a broken system.


Truly Evil

The team called Creatures always watch people fall. Their leader always wore a mask and never once took it off. They were given the name by many clients, Evil. Evil had a team that wore no mask. Evil’s team was filled with the strangest of people.
A old guy with a wooden cane named Crook.
A curvy woman with a long hair laced with bows her name was Red.
The five year old girl who always wears gloves named Shred.
Lastly a tall guy who always smokes his name is Burn.
Creatures are part of the supernatural. I know it’s just considered a rumor don’t yell at me but it’s true. I saw it, I swear. I was in a building owned by Creatures. Looking around I spotted a door that was slightly open. Why did I ever look in? I did though and I saw Evil sitting on a desk with their team around them. The client of Creatures sat in a chair opposite of the desk.
“So what are you saying is you don’t have my money.” Evil’s voice says with a hint of insanity. Evil’s eyes looking down on the client like he is nothing more than a flea.
“No, I ddd..on’t havvv..e your mmm..oney.” He says stuttering.
“You know I have no problem with killing you right? Just ask your partner or wait I killed them.” Evil says nonchalantly tilting their head to the side.
“Boss what are you going to do about his friends?” Red whose face was looking down the whole time looks up and her eyes are scarlet.
Are they talking about me. My heartbeat races.
“Well why don’t they join us?” Evil says before snapping her fingers.
All of a sudden Reds hair grows quickly and works like a storm. Catching people hidden around the room. They are four of them that are suspended in the air and lowered to stand next to the man.
“Now you know how to works but if you don’t I’ll explain. if you can’t pay me back with money you pay me back with your life.” Evil proclaims and then slams both of her hands on the table. “Take out the uninvited guest.” She commands.
Red grabs the guy at the right end and holds him with her hair. The bows turn into knives and point at the guy sticking into him a second later. At the touch of his blood her hair turns red.
Crook throws his cane into the air and it transform into a gun. When the gun touches his hand his appearance changes, into a teen with blonde hair. He shoots the man to the right.
Shred takes off the gloves to reveal claws of ones seen on demons. She slashes the man to the left. Turning him nothing into what her name says.
Burn puts out his cigarette and turns to the guy on the far left. The guy shakes as he goes up to him and puts his hand on his head. The guy body turns to ash at his touch.
Lastly Evil walks up to the man. “Get up and walk to the window.” They speak and the man follows. Why does he not talk back?
“You see my powers is what make me truly evil. Power. My word is law. No matter what it is nothing not even inanimate objects defy me. Shatter.” At once the window shatters. Evil takes off her mask and looks at the guy. “Jump.” With that simple word he does.
I cover my mouth. That wasn’t real. I still have nightmares every night. Not much of the killing, that’s still terrify and it’s not because of Evils face. She was beautiful but her black eyes were soulless and insane and she looked deep into my eyes more like soul.
I feel like I’m being watched all the time, no one believes me but you have to save me. They’re going to kill me. If I do die then go to the Empire State Building that’s what Evil owns. I know they’ll make my death look like suicide, Creatures always does because they’re truly evil.

-Evelyn McHale 1947

Authors Note- If you didn’t know Evelyn McHale is a real person who lived in 1947 and jumped from the Empire State building. She is also recorded to have the most beautiful suicide.

Salt and Pepper

SALT AND PEPPER covered the grass on Sunday. Today it’s Sunday, a year later. I always hated working on Sundays. Not because I was religious, no it was nothing like that. I just hated working on Sundays and I’ve always hated Sundays ever since a teen because on Sundays all I wanted to do was sleep till Monday rolled around but no I had to go work in my stuffy office. My hate only increased with each passing week. Though working on Sundays wasn’t that bad, no it wasn’t. Not when you had a girlfriend to come home too. Yep she made me like Sundays and then hate them again.

Now every time when I walk home from work on Sunday for some reason I always get home wet. Though today’s a special Sunday, yes it really is. When I reach into my pocket my fingers brush against something cool and hard. I remember that day I gave my girlfriend a fake ring. She was so happy even though I knew, she knew it wasn’t real. She was that kinda person an optimist to my pessimist. I actually hated her at first but began to crave her stupid but breath taking smile. I think I really hated her because to trap me she didn’t have to say anything. When we moved in together we would fight. Who didn’t? Though that was okay because when I woke up I could embrace her, knowing I didn’t have to let go and I wouldn’t.

Wasn’t it Sunday when I gave her the fake ring? My feet echo on the cement, like a little kids skipping with glee but I felt no glee. I place the metal circle on the granite. See I always said I’d get you a real ring, it’s just really late. I also remember that day, it just won’t go away. That day salt and pepper covered the grass.

I was coming home from work on Sunday and I heard the loudest crackle, like I was out camping. I ran knowing deep in my heart that today I was going to pray to God. When I got to my house the warm colored phoenix flapped his wings. I ran inside, what was I thinking? I can’t recall. I saw you though and you saw I. You waved your hand at me and smiled. For some reason the fake ring on your hand glowed brighter than the flames. Everything came crumbling after that. My body was restrained and I remember seeing the ash and the first snow mix that day.

My hands slowly go over the granite, feeling your name but I can never feel you again. A drop of water hits the granite. There it goes I’m wet again.