Calm

Right was scrolling through my old laptop to retrieve some stuff, and found this piece here... so i figured why not let people read it... constructive criticism as always is appreciated.


The Calm.

Whispers in the wind, I need to halt it. must silence them. Its deafening, threatening. Sizzle they go, twitter some follow. It's terrifying. The calm can't reach me here, unlike the shattering cold. The frost creeping upwards. They call to me; the voices. Longing for the silence is a hope long lived. Fighting the urge a strength long fallen. I can't help it. can't stop it any more. I'm tired, exhausted but the night is young. A full moon risen, shining gleefully on the random packs of clouds cluttering the deep blue skies. Writhing in agony the terror increases. The calling, the song, the siren, the summon; it draws me ever so close.

Tag you're it.

its time to get to work. There she is! Go! Follow her. The street is badly lit, grey and gloom. Think you can handle it? Just watch out for the puddles of half frozen water or the cracks in the cobbled road. She might hear you, might turn around. No! Stop . Fight it, wrestle it, bring back the silence. But I fail. The poor attempt is saddening, a sorrow laced with poison. Since I know. I just go through the motions, attempting to break free, trying to struggle, fighting to shed loose the grip of tyranny that's controlling my thoughts, my head and my life. I have long past given in to the calling. Its been long ago since the beast swallowed my soul, my morality and my sanity.

The decision is already made. That red dress will come off tonight. Those maroon locks will no longer be accentuated by the reflecting glow of the glooming moonlight, and those green eyes will most certainly stop shining, before the inevitable warm rays of the sun announces their victory over the city's rooftops. Run girl, that's what a person would suggest. But I'm not. I desire you, want you, need you. Your blood shall polish the wall of that sorry excuse of a building you call a house. The windows battered shut with rotten wooden planks. The door hanging askew in it's socket. The whimpering of rats scrounging from the inside. Home sweet home. The excrement of society living in a latrine.

The voices suddenly stop. Stillness is upon me. Silence has arrived. Announced with the slender revelation of cold steel. Metal unsheathed in the hearth of night, at the centre of my turmoil. It is; calm and peaceful. I love this feeling, this sensation. When the world stops spinning around me as everything falls into place. This house, this woman, this shining glimmering of innocence in her eyes and this cold, carved, blunt butcher knife. Unfit to cut livestock but perfect for the desired contrast. Oh, I shiver and tremble. Not in cold or in angst. No, I purr in anticipation and excitement. I revel at this point in time, mere moments before entering this awaiting abode.

My hand is sharp, steady, and ready to stab. Your eyes spoke to me. Your stature called to me, and your night sealed this deal. nothing anyone can do now will stop this from happening. it is inevitable like the revolving of the sun, the transition of night into day, music into silence and life into death.

I am truly sorry. But now it is clear to me. This clarity, encompasses everything. It all makes sense now. This shouldn't be happening to anybody but you beckoned me. You summoned me as siren and I was powerless to your song. I could do nothing but comply. It's over. Nothing will keep the calm from your doorstep. The end is near and the harbinger of peace has arrived. I am here. In this mould covered home. The stairs crack, but it could have been the rats. Your voice is soft and sweet as I approach. listening to the humming your call, I follow like a moth to a flame, as you want me to. Yes, my arm starts to tingle. It's time.

Shout.

Scream for your life.

It'll be the last song you'll ever sing.

for it's over now.