Formerly Badass Horrible Poetry

This isn't just a poetry blog. Let's be honest, a lot of what I post is poetry but there are more often than not also postings about short stories. I do try to keep this blog separate from my others and post strictly creative work here. Some of it will be better than others, and much of it is in first or second draft stage when posted. These are raw works, and there will be spelling and grammar troubles at times because I use this blog to gauge what works and what doesn't. I use it as a place to get feedback. That's the reason it is "horrible". Because it's not finished-- And why should it be? We all want feedback but most of us are too afraid to put ourselves out there.

Welcome to my word.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Sinner's Halo Book 1: Weaver of Snares - Chapter 5

Honestly, there are sections of this chapter that are a lot less polished than is normal for me 
doing a rough draft... but I'm chugging along, so this will probably be one of those chapters 
that looks a lot different in its final version. Some things redundant and wordy, especially in
 what I will affectionately term the "dream sequence" and will be fixed in a later edit. Bear
 with me and enjoy if you can!

Chapter 5: Foreshadowing

   † Liv walked me home that afternoon. It was the first time she was coming over my house 
in a long while, when normally we would all meet at her place down the street. She had a huge
 recroom in the basement with two vast futons, a giant gaming system, and a hottub on the 
deck just outside. I tried to live there as much as possible on the weekends.
    “Welcome to my house, on your left you can see some dead flowers, and on your right
 some uncut grass.” It was my turn to play the cringy tour guide.
   “Darn, I thought we were walking into some random strangers house.”
I took off my coat and tossed it over the banister in the hall before sticking my head in the kitchen.
“Hey, Christina, We’re home!”   
“’We’?” Mom practically skipped from kitchen in her apron. She actually squealed when 
she saw Liv, and handed her a stack of chocolate chip cookies. All she handed me was
 the spatula she had been holding, before going off into a rant about everything from how
 nice the weather had been to the irritations of having three mountains of laundry to do
 for me and my sisters. Before she could talk Liv’s ear off I managed to save her by bringing
 up the Math homework we hadn’t started and dragging her up the stairs to my room. Liv 
and I agreed that my room was the best one in our house. It didn’t have a TV but the carpet 
was clean and soft and my bed was enormous and surrounded on 3 side by raspberry pink walls. 
It was generally an unspoken agreement that Liv’s house was better suited to sleepovers 
and hanging out, but she’d told me a couple times that she appreciated how organized and 
cozy I’d made my room feel, even in the middle of my otherwise drab white-walled house. 
Neither of us were ready the tornado trail my youngest sister had left inside.
Selina sat on the middle of my bed, with three open cans of finger paints that she was actively 
smearing on a few small pieces of very moist paper. The paint was everywhere. My formerly 
blue shiny bedspread was slathered in red, green and dark blue paint, on my white carpet pooled 
large globs of yellow and red, my lampshade resembled a Jackson Pollock. Not even the walls 
were spared. In addition to the paint spattered everywhere, Silena had drawn several primitive 
murals, all of them resembling pentagrams: She’d figured out how to draw stars very recently. 
Worst off was the bookcase. It looked as though Silena had made a game of it, throwing globs
 of paint directly at the books in a desperate attempt to make their bindings unreadable. Soggy 
with paint, a few had already shaved their covers and had begun falling apart. Paint-covered 
pages of my favorite books littered the floor.
   I could feel the corners of my eye twitching as I looked at the mess and then at the  the blond little 
hellion sitting on my bed. Silena looked rather pleased with herself as she smiled up at me.
   “Don’t you just think it looks nifty? I made your room better!” Silena said.
I couldn’t even glare at her I was so mad. I was also trying extremely hard to not blow up at 
Silena in front of Liv and I was basically torturing myself. I used all the willpower I possessed
 to remain calm.  
“Silena, get out of my room, right now,” I hissed through locked teeth.
“Why?”
       “Because I said so.”
       “Why?”
       “Because if you don’t, you may not be alive to see tomorrow.”
       “Why?”
       “Because I am going to take your head, and beat the living hell-”
   Before I could finish, Liv picked up Silena off the bed, carried her over to the open door, placed
 her in the hallway, and shut and locked it before turning on me.
    “Girl, you need to chill out.”
    “Did you suddenly go blind or something?!”
    “She’s like five.”
    “She knows better -”
    “I’m actually not sure she does. Bitching her out isn’t gonna help. I bet she’s already telling your 
mom what you were about to say.”
    “I’m sure Christina will have a long talk with me tonight.” I was seething. I touched the wall with
 my hand. It didn’t smear. It was already dry…
    Liv grabbed some tissues and walked gingerly to the bed to wipe up some of the globs of paint that 
were running down some of the bunched up covers.
   “Damn…” she turned to shake her head at me. “If it makes you feel better, I’m proud that you were 
able to keep your cool for even that long. If that had been my little brother, Ethan would have been in 
a headlock before he’d said a single word.”
   Little fists started pounding the door.
   “Hey, Pizza Breath, let me in! I need to get my paintings!”
  “You aren’t coming in here ever again. I’m chucking your paints AND your drawings into the trash.”
 I shot back, scathingly.
   High pitch wailing came from outside the door. A Selina tantrum had started.
   “Y-your so mean! I’m t-telling m-mom!” The keeining sound faded off in the direction of the stairs. 
Liv and I glanced at each other. I unlocked the door. When I peaked out, Hope emerged from her room
 and walked towards me.
“Jeez, you sure blew your shit, Jen - Hey Liv - you haven’t blown up like that since—oh. OH. 
WOW.” Hope had arrived and finally looked into the colorful depths of the room. I let her in 
so we could all wander around to examine my new and un-commissioned art gallery up close.
      “Jeez, Jen, she destroyed your signed copy of the HP Seven...” I’d noticed that earlier but had 
been trying to ignore it. I walked over to the bookcase, dodging paint, to where she was and picked
 up the copy wiped it, best I could and replaced it carefully on the shelf. It looked very saggy. Liv 
stood next to the bed, picking up the drawings carefully so that they did not drip even more paint on 
my ruined comforter.
   “Wow…” Liv muttered as she looked at the drawings. “Your sister is kind of morbid for a six year
 old…”  She handed me the paintings one by one.
    The color palet was muted, despite the fact that she had only been using bright colors, probably 
because she had swirled the color around so much that it had mixed to a dull brown. The figures
 weren’t very articulate, almost like impressionist stick figures. They didn’t exactly form a story, 
but a few of the blobby people looked similar. The only thing that made an impression were bold 
red splotches here and there. A short blob held back another from a bloody stick figure. Another
 showed a four-legged thing attacking another red blob. Another depicted a landscape of a desolate 
beach - all grey sand and muddy water. Some of the pages after that clung together where the pages 
touched. The last discernible one showed a girl on top of a bed a body underneath her.
   “Wow. It’s official, our sister is messed up in the brain.” Hope muttered, shaking her head.
I sighed, crumpled the moist papers up and tossed the drawings in the trash bin.

   I was still fuming when I went to bed. Liv stayed till dinner, helping me clean up my room so 
that it was livable. We soaked up as much paint as physically possible, washed the books in clean 
water, set the pages out to dry in front of a box fan. Most of the paint had been cleaned up off the
 floor, but the walls would need to be repainted and my bedspread was wrapped in an industrial 
trashbag in the garage. RIP, Comforter. I would be spending the night in camping out on my bare 
mattress in a sleeping bag with a pillow from the couch.
   The worst part of the whole situation was that Silena didn’t even get in any trouble: in fact, I was 
reprimanded for throwing out her drawings and for what I said to her. The only reason I didn’t blow a 
gasket about the unfairness of the situation was thanks to Dad’s quick thinking. He may have acted like
 he was on Christine’s side when he’d gotten home, but he’d slipped me a hundred and fifty bucks and
 told me to hit up Bed Bath and Beyond sometime this weekend. If I needed any more cash to replace 
anything I could let him know. It wouldn’t replace a 1st edition signed Harry Potter book, but it was
 enough too cool my fury.
   But for now, there I lay, sprawled on a slightly damp bed, amidst a mural of pentagrams, inside 
an sweltering purple sleeping bag. I thought back on my first day at Splendidus Stultus. The boys 
seemed well; Liv had been a blessing of a tour guide with her sarcasm and quips. Professor Lyre 
might have been unstable, but Ms. Fendever and Mr. Felis seemed pretty chill. Maybe I’d actually
 try to behave. Maybe I wouldn’t pick so many fights. I yawned. It was past 11, and I was exhausted.
 Tomorrow, I thought, will seem restful after today.
    Over the next few days I fell into routine. Morning alarm. Fall off the bed. Get dressed. Book it to
 the bus. The biggest difference, I swapped out the floral skirt and polo for dark jeans, spooky blouses
 and edgy dresses.
    Finding a seat on the bus was no longer a problem. I’d slide awkwardly passed Trisha and plop down
 next to Liv, or Luke, or Dylan. The ride felt much shorter sitting with friends. I never saw Asher come
 off a bus but he always joined us by the time we hit homeroom and were checked in for the day. Then 
we’d seperate, off to our individual classes. Summer was truly gone.
    By the middle of the week, I still hadn’t had a scrap of homework and was counting my blessings. 
Some schools I’d been to dove right in; the name of the game at Splendidus Stultus was “review”. In 
math, Mrs. Pufferman had done so much discussion of why reviewing last years’ classes was important 
that we never got around to reviewing anything. We were blissfully without homework for the entire 
weekend. In Latin the only work we got was to give a brief synopsis of the last 6 chapters. Spoiler, 
Mea Raeda est in fossa. Its always in the fossa. I wrote up my summary during my useless math review
 - I had opted for a lower level Latin class to review my knowledge, but we were working with topics 
I’d known since sixth grade, and I could translate them in my sleep. Things were looking good for the
 weekend. All I had for science homework was to explain simple machines… weird since it was 
supposed to be a Chemistry Class. A three page paper for English.
    Things were looking pretty good by lunch on Wednesday. The Prof was nowhere to be seen in the
 cafeteria but I still steered clear of anything potato based. Liv and I hadn’t told the boys our plan to 
sneak into the Florin Hill Mansion, partly because Asher and Dylan were always with Luke and it felt
 really weird not to invite him. Liv had been super specific though: she wanted this to be a date. Still,
 I felt bad, watching Luke sitting sleepily at the table, propping his head up with one hand. He looked 
exhausted.
“Luke, you should go to bed earlier tonight. You are really out of it.” said Dylan, concerned
 after Luke’s ravioli had fallen into his lap for the 3rd time and he had yet to notice it.
   Asher nodded in agreement. “Yeah. If you get any more beauty sleep you’re going to be too much 
for us mere mortals to look at.”
   Luke stifled a yawn. “Oh, shut up Asher. I just need a fix of caffeine.”
I was done with my coke and held it out to him. He chugged what was left and after a few seconds 
seemed more active, if not awake.
   “Thanks” Luke said, but just as he turned to me, his eyes widened. I was about to turn around when
 he said my name. I smiled just as I heard it. The dreaded sound. The sound made chills run down my 
spine, made me break into a cold sweat, made all other sounds muffled, like I was underwater, and 
only the hacking retching, and the splash of bile echoed through the haze. It was an illogical fear, 
which made it both extremely annoying to deal with in crowded places and embarrassing--  but there
 was no stopping what would be the uncontrollable shaking and shallow stuttering of my breath. 
Stay calm. Everything’s fine. You can deal with this. I thought to myself, but even as I thought it,
 the words seemed to grow distant and fade.
   There was a chorus of disgust from all over the cafeteria. I had things under control until someone 
shouted, “Aw, man, gross! Emerson puked his guts up!”
   My thoughts turned to escape. I had to leave, quickly, but grasped at details that would modify any 
escape plan; I judged, without turning around, that it was probably around ten feet away. Emerson had 
run towards the emergency back exit and through, causing the alarm to trigger. He had most likely run 
towards the nurse, which meant that the Math Building, situated between the lunchroom and the nurse’s
 office, would have to be avoided. The English building wasn’t in direct line, but it had huge windows
 on the upper floors, and I certainly did not want a front row seat. Same was true of the visual arts and
 history building. That left the Language Labs and the  Theater as my best option. That just left the exit
 problem - did I go through the Emergency exit and risk Emerson’s germs, or would I have to walk 
past it to get through the front door?
   All of this was judged in a two second time frame, and already the shaking had started. I felt like I could smell it even though I’d stopped breathing out of my nose the moment the sound of Emerson puking had occurred. Dylan and Liv noticed at the same time.
      “Jenna?” Liv asked. I shook my head.
“Are you having an anxiety attack?” I shrugged with tense shoulders. It was such a stupid thing
 to be afraid of. Finally I nodded.
   “Do you think your going to be sick?” Dylan asked. I shook my head, a little bit annoyed. I knew 
that Dylan was asking out of concern, but that was my all-time least favorite question. Asking it made
 it feel as though he expected me to get sick, which made not getting sick even more difficult.
   Liv rubbed my shoulder, and whispered soothing things in my ear. It didn’t help. I was shaking 
worse than my sister Selina when she gets into a pack of mountain dew. Everything felt hot all over 
and my collar was moist with sweat. I needed to get out the tension in my hands, which were white
 from being clenched. I needed to grab onto something, anything, anything at all that I could just 
squeeze the living crap out of. One of the twins, I was too distracted to notice which, must have read
 my mind and grabbed my hand. It was ike someone tossed me a life saver.
       My senses started to dull, and calmness I wasn’t aware of had hold of me as the twins thumb 
rubbed my hand. At least i wasn’t aware of the calm until Asher, his hand on my shoulder, peered 
down at me and asked my second least favorite question.
      “Do you want to go to the nurse?”
    It wasn’t his fault. He’d only met me a week ago, and apparently there’d been no reason for my 
old friends to fill Asher in on my severe emetophobia. It still didn’t stop me from snapping at him.
   “Are you an idiot I can’t go to the nurse that’s where he’s gonna be--”
    I was shaking, on the verge of tears and so overwhelmed. But somewhere inside I felt really bad 
for snapping at him. I blinked helplessly around at the now blurry shapes of my friends. From what 
I could see of Asher, he looked genuinely hurt and had backed off. Crap.
     My teeth were chattering, so I concentrated firmly on the thumb rubbing my hand soothingly.
 I must look ridiculous and weak, I thought to myself. Surprisingly, the feeling of the thumb began 
to calm me again. I took in several deep breaths through my mouth, felt a few tears drop down my 
flushed cheeks and closed my eyes.
   When I opened them, I had no idea where I was. The cafeteria was gone, as was everyone in it. 
My eyes swept over an empty beach I did not recognize. I stood a few yards from the surf, just close
 enough to taste the spray falling around me. Salty air penetrated my nostrils and I felt the last 
tension in my back melt away.
   Behind me rose a wall of craggy rock, large shapes carved into it—a giant hourglass, a paintbrush, 
a candle with a real flame flickering at its peak and a free-standing dome that sunk straight into
 the sand and out of sight. There were no trees  to be seen, though vivid grass clung to the tops of 
every surface.
    I took a step towards the cliff carvings but stopped when I felt the sand softly shift between my 
toes. I was barefoot, and the sand warm. ,A finer and more powdery sand I could not imagine. I 
walked lightly to the edge of the cliff, then sat down on a rock, facing the ocean. It The sun had
 just set, filling the sky with slightly orange glow in the distance, but leaving the rest a dark,
 deep blue. There was just enough light to see by without having to strain my eyes.
   The beach went on for a mile, maybe two, before curving around a bend and disappearing 
out of sight. It was in that distant darkness, with only the ghost of the sun to see by, that I caught
 sight of someone walking away from me. The edges around him were unfocused, as if someone 
had spread around his features using a palette brush. Another odd thing about this boy, he had no
 color, only tones of grey.

   I rose and headed slowly in the direction of the boy. He must have started so far away, but even
 though I was walking slowly, I was catching up at an impossibly fast rate. He was only 30 yards 
away. 20 yards. 10. He stood motionless. I stopped, waiting for him to make a movement. Though
 he was still motionless, his form shifted constantly, one second a young boy, the next an old man. 
His features were still blurred beyond recognition.
   I took a quiet step closer to the figure and a finger on his hand twitched. I kept walking so that I 
 stood only two feet away. I placed my hand his foggy shoulder and fingers made contact with 
something that felt as stable as his flickering visage. He felt warm, toasty even, but also slightly
 moist, almost like coming in contact with a damp sponge that had been briefly warmed in the 
microwave.
   I watched him move steadily between a spectrum of ages until, finally, I couldn’t stand the silence.
“Who are you?” I asked
 The man turned.

   “Dylan?” I said, opening my eyes. Dylan leaned his elbow on the seat directly in front of me, 
gazing at her. He let out a breath like he’d been holding it in and leaned back on his heels. 
Dazed, I looked around slowly. It took me a few seconds to process that I was on the top 
balcony of the theater, surrounded by my friends without anyone staring or whispering. A 
feeling of liberation swept over me. Memories of the cafeteria, Emerson, and what had happened
 before I fell into a dream trickled in as I made eye contact with Liv, Luke and Asher in turn. 
I pushed the cafeteria from my mind. I was safe, it was clean here, and it had been my first choice
 hiding spot. I’d take the win.
       I was hella groggy. For a break from my friends concerned faces I gazed up at the Theater’s 
ceiling. Beautiful though it was, I paid very little attention to its details. It just gave me something 
to do while I asked questions.
   “What happened?”
   “Someone puked.” Asher supplied.
   “No shit. I meant after. Did I… faint?”
    My friends exchanged an obvious glance.
   “Fainting isn’t exactly the right word…” Luke said. “It’s more like... you fell asleep. You were 
very subtle about it. We gave you a piggy-back ride out of there, and with all the commotion, 
I don’t think anyone noticed.”
    “A piggy back ride? I thought you said it was subtle.”
    “Hey,” Asher said, “Would you rather we get the stretcher? Guys are always carrying their 
cute friends around on their backs, it was way less noticeable.”
    “Well…” I said. I secretly wondered which one of them carried me. “A for effort, anyway.”
    “I’ll tell yah, it was a bitch getting you up the stairs!” said Dylan.
    “You didn’t even carry her!” said Luke, Asher and Liv at the same time.
    “So?” Dylan grinned. “It was a joint effort. I held open like, 4 doors to get here.”
    “Luke carried you most of the way. Very valiant I assure you.” said Asher, winking at me. 
“I made sure he was a gentleman the entire time. I couldn’t carry you up all the way across the 
green with these noodle arms.”
      “Never mind that I actually carried you up the stairs…” Liv muttered in my ear.
    “I heard that. And excuse you, you carried her halfway up,” said Luke.
I laughed as Liv playfully punched Luke on the shoulder. She didn’t punch hard enough that 
I could feel it through the backrub Luke was giving me from the chair behind. It was so calming, 
and I was sad when he pulled away and got up. The others looked up at him questioningly too.  
   “Just remembered I have a meeting with a teacher. Homework stuff.” he explained, “You, 
good now, Jenna?”
I nodded and smiled lightly at him. His eyes softened.
“Ok then. See you guys later.”
He ambled over to the staircase and waved briefy before disappearing down it.
   “Weird.” Liv commented, scrutinizing the empty stairwell.
   “How?” I asked.
   Liv and Asher’s eyes met. “It’s the second day of school.” he said. “How much homework
 could he have?”
   “I don’t know.” Liv chewed on her lip a little then shrugged. “Maybe he’s trying to work ahead?.”
    “Or maybe he’s trying to start a club for kids who remind the teacher they haven’t given
 out homework.”
   Then Asher and Liv began discussing the different clubs around campus. I hadn’t really
 thought about any clubs I’d want to join. I kinda figured I would spend high school just
 hanging out with my little inner circle. Sure, I’d go to a few GSA meetings at the beginning, 
but I knew myself and I’d probably skip out after a while. Liv started talking about baking club 
again, and I was about to join in and say I might come to a few of those for the grub when I 
noticed Dylan, who was still watching the staircase that his brother had disappeared down with a 
puzzled expression. He hadn’t said anything in a while.
       He noticed me staring at him and abruptly he popped back in with his charming personality.
“Luke seems a little off today, doesn’t he?” He jerked a finger at the staircase. “Maybe 
he’s coming down with something. He didn’t eat much ravioli last night, which like, weird. 
It’s his favorite. And he’s looking a little pasty. Whatever.” Dylan glanced down at his watch 
and grimaced. “We should probably only play hooky for another ten minutes till the period ends.
 Felis wont rat us out on not being in class if we explain why, but we should probably be seen in the
 halls before sports.”  Dylan started to get up but Liv, held out an arm.
   “Whoa there, buddy—”
    Liv looked to me for confirmation that this was a good time. I sighed and signaled for her to carry on.
    “What are you two doing this Friday night?” Liv asked, in a hushed whisper.
   “What ever you have planned for us, I imagine.” Dylan answered.
   Asher nodded. “What did you have in mind? I’m always down for a BYOB paint night in someone’s
 basement.”
    “I’ve got something a little more festive in mind.” Liv gave them a dark smile.
      “You know the mansion on Amica St?”
       “Of course.” Dylan replied courteously.
    “I see where this is going. You mean spooky-festive.” said Asher.
      “We were thinking…” Liv looked at me for backup. She was nervous for sure, because
 suddenly her plan for a haunted date night turned into OUR idea. OUR plan. So I cut in.
    “We’re gonna sneak in there for a little pre-halloween urban photography. Friday. The four 
of us,” I said. “Gotta see what all the fuss is about. Find some lil’ ghosties.”
      “Wicked—excuse the pun-- I’m in.” Dylan smirked. “Gotta trespass while my legs will 
still let me run like the hills if someone calls the cops!”
    “Or if the souls of the damned come to drag us to hell,” Asher said. He laughed with us at that, 
but something about it seemed off. Like he was pretending to find his own joke funnier than he 
actually did.
    “But you are in, right?” asked Liv, pouting.
    “I dunno... “ said Asher, running a hand through his hair. “Shouldn’t we wait till Luke gets
 back to us?”
    “Please?” Liv was practically begging. Her getting a romantic date with Asher was pretty 
much the whole point of this.
    “I already asked him, but he didn’t want to come.” I heard myself lie. If Luke found out… I could
 explain it away. Liv had been crushing on Asher for years. He’d get it. And its not like he would’ve 
wanted to come anyway.
    “Exactly,” Said Liv. She shot me a big thumbs up when the boys werent looking. “So can 
you come? I’d feel so much safer if you came with us.”
    Asher laughed. “Why? I’m a lover not a fighter - if a ghost showed up I’d probably try to
 give it directions to the nearest tunnel of light.”
    “We need at least one slow runner so Dylan, Liv and I can make it out alive,” I said, smirking.
   “Aw hell,” Asher nodded. “It’s not like I have anything better to do that night.” Liv sprang 
out of her seat and practically bowled him over in a hug. I was happy for her. I was. But as I 
watched her and Asher, my smile felt a little hollow. Maybe it was the lie, or just not bringing 
Luke at all. I wasn’t sure. Asher looked up from where he was, trying to pick up his backpack 
with Liv draped all over him and noticed me looking at him.
    When we all headed down Asher sped ahead to walk with me while Liv stayed back to help
 Dylan if he needed it on the stairs.
    “Don’t look so down about Luke,” he whispered to me, out of earshot of the other two.
 “He probably tried to convince you out of this particular misadventure, am I right?” I nodded, 
feeling my hollow smile come over my face again. “The Prude… I on the other hand will do 
the responsible thing and come with you on your quest! And probably die. But hey,” He laughed 
and something sparkling in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “They say an artist is worth 
more after he kicks it.”  
     “Then I’ll make sure your stuff gets so big even the Lourve can’t afford it.” I said.
He patted me on the back.
“That’s my girl.” he said, right before he jogged off to his next class, leaving me 
with the lingering warmth of his skin on my neck. †

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