• ~A fuzzy picture. A light warm feeling.
    A person walking and no destination, And Suddenly there is one.
    I’m almost to the destination that has no meaning.
    I can feel the warm feeling getting hotter.
    The heat turns into a burning urge that makes me push my legs to the limit.
    I want to go farther and faster.
    I’m so close I can almost reach it.
    The flames burn higher, I feel as though the blood in my veins are molten lava.
    I stretch out my burning arms and Reach for the thing that I’ve been yearning for.
    Then suddenly as if it was never there, it’s gone.
    The Burning feeling that urged me to go so far is ripped away from me.
    And now it’s been replaced by a cold achy feeling.
    I exhale a hot breath that burns my throat as it escapes my lips.
    When it reaches the air that surrounds me it turns to glass and shatters on the floor.
    I fall to the ground, unable to breath.
    Then suddenly the cold unforgiving feeling is interrupted by an abrupt sound~


    I jerk up to a sitting position.
    I can feel the sweat dripping down my back.
    I look at the window.
    As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see something outside my window.
    I jump out of bed.
    As I press my hot head to the window, there it is.
    The sound that so suddenly jerked me from my sleep.
    Thunder.
    I hate thunder.
    I try to block out the disturbing sound and go back to sleep.
    I cringe through every angry roll of thunder.
    I can’t sleep.
    I look at the clock.
    4:05
    Soon the dark gruesome clouds will be gone and my fears will seem silly.
    But I can’t wait.
    I jump out of bed and open the door to the bathroom.
    I hold my hand up to turn on the light and then decide not to wake my family.
    I do what I need to do in the darkness.
    I feel my hands around the sink looking for the soap and faucet.
    After drying my hands I begin to feel sick.
    I walk into my room and shut the door behind me.
    I turn on my lamp and find my note book and pencil.
    I begin to draw something that looks like it could turn out decent.
    But then my hand gets carried away and it becomes something disgusting.
    Two people in an alley. One running away with a shiny piece of metal in his hand.
    The other leaning against the brick wall bleeding out his eyes, nose and chest.
    I look at it and admire my work.
    I begin to feel depressed that I’ll have to destroy this before anyone wakes up.
    I don’t want to disturb them with what my hands have done.
    When I finish crying, I look at the beautiful piece of work in my hands and begin to tear it apart.
    When I’m done shredding the picture, I look out the window.
    It’s almost light.
    I should get back to bed so they won’t think I can’t sleep.