Zero: Number Eleven

 Black ink scours the lands

In this technological wasteland

I've built for myself thus far,

And although I'm young

I have years of power, of growth

And I wonder how long it will take

My brother, the sworn hero

To take me out himself,

Once and for all?

I don't mind these dark powers

I seem to have been born with,

Nor the knowledge I can contain

But he swears that it is wrong

And I am wrong

And everything of wrong is me.

If I've ever felt emotion

It was taken from me

Shortly after birth.

And now, I am void,

My powers are chaos itself,

And everything is black.

The void calls to me as a familiar,

Asking me to help it spread

It's voluminous, blank wings

And I concur that it is

Tragic to be so useful

Yet so frowned upon.

I am cold.

I am efficient.

I am Zero.

Number Four: Celestia

Blinded by the darkness
How could I ever see the light again
In any of your faces,
Your bright smiles now erased

And the flowers, the trees
That once bound me are fled
From my crooked, petrifying,
Horrific gaze

My fangs dig deep into the souls
Of the damned and the forgotten
The wretched, the wicked
As I am become now

The pull of the darkness
Tendrils tying me down
Until I give in to this
Madness, this spiral of anger

It pulls me deeper and deeper
Into this black abyss and whispers
Into me, the future, past, and present
Until my sanity drips from my veins

Cut me open, and let it bleed
More and more until there's
Not enough evil to fill my body;
My heart, my soul -

Or perhaps the worst punishment
Is the mercy of it all;
To let me live with this insanity
Every. Single. Full moon.

Losing Grip

What do you want me to tell you?
That my arm shook as I kept myself
From grabbing and pulling all of you
Into my life?

That my skin could not bear life,
Without your electric touch again?
That the daemon who held my soul
Only amplified my want to hold your hand?

That I almost lost control of myself
From being in your magnetic presence;
Your lies and expressions telling
What I wanted to hear whispered within?

You read me like a book on a shelf
To you, the shiniest, newest, brightest novel
You'd ever seen before you.
But did you even hold the key to anything,

Or was it just to my most primal wants;
Imagining your hands up and down my waist,
My back, my hips, and your tongue
Telling me all I'd ever want to hear from you?

Are other people truly just a game,
A conquest, a vague interest to your shallow mind?
And once you had won me over,
Would you have set me on your shelf of lies?

The Anxious Wait

Tiptoeing around the fires,
A cold winter's night chills me through
And when I think of you all alone
The glass in my gut moves further.

I gag and I moan but there is no end
To the anguish until I hear your voice again
Gracefully dancing, I feel the hot stones
Burning my feet beneath my slippers

But my bones just won't warm up -
I shiver as melodic music plays
Up and down my vertebrae
As keys upon the piano in my bedroom

I must be losing my mind
Because time just doesn't make sense,
And the music won't stop,
The voices told me I cannot.

And I keep dancing,
Tiptoeing around the fires:
My bones freezing and my feet
Just an inch from the flames,

But they won't let me stop,
And the music won't stop,
And the glass in my gut keeps
Cutting and tearing me up...

If I can't hear your voice tonight,
Then I'll never be alright again.
Time swims across the melody,
And the night just will not end.

Dangerous Game II

Watch me gaze upon your
Tainted, viscous fluids
You had once called love,
Your blood black on my

Rose, cleanly carpet.
Watch it as it seeps
Into the fabric,
Leaving no stain.

And with your dying breaths,
Remember why you
Came here in the
First place, human.

Mister Non Committal,
Mister Minimum Effort,
Dirty as the makeup
Still staining your face.

Stealing hearts from
Married souls was quite
The fun, masturbatory
Act, wasn't it?

The thrill of the catch,
Taunting you into a
Stimulating, active,
Obsessive state.

And when the gods and
The spirits judge you
Dead, will you have ever
Truly loved another person?

Dangerous Game I

Watch me carve myself open,
Guts and ribs in open air,
Baring my soul and all
For you to play upon.

I look sick upon your familiar face
Stomach pouring onto the floor
Dark and fearless, smiling
How you were taught.

Is reality an illusion, or a game?
From your words I could not
Tell if you were laughing,
Or crying, for help.

Your hands reached for my heart,
Sliding easily through flesh
With desire and charm
And determination.

Blood from lack of breathing fell
Upon your soft, wanting skin
My eyes full of realize, but
Yours on the treasure.

Emptied of light, of conscience,
Your thickly drooling gape
Insisting this would help,
This hunt of me.

A world of crimson blurred around
Your pitch black shallow eyes
Upon my very love you'll
Never understand.

I can finally spot the light in hand,
Taken as an edge to myself
Now turned and used to
Free your blood.

The viscous venom upon my carpet
I had once laid out to marry on,
Seeping, poisoning me
Away from him.

I stick it in once more, your sickened
Nerves cut like hairs unfolded,
Yet within, there is naught
But a single spark.

I turn, the fresh breath of what I've done
Seeping into my drowning lungs,
Tingling my endings
Into feeling again.

Isaiah Solace

Your darkened gaze upon your enemies,
Your victims, your nemesis;
Eyes of night with olive flesh,
The craving hit me first-

Second, the whispering moon
Screaming at me to move;
To say anything to your
Strength, your speed, your heart,

Your determination;
So quick was your charm in third,
Ensnaring, wrapping me
In your dangerous smile-

Your gift unto no one else,
For myself alone to love,
To yearn, to question still,
If any of us was truly real?

Your succor, sweet kiss
'Neath the moonlight timed just right
For your soon departure
Left me without question.

Itching Underneath

Ivory tusks trapped under skin
Aching and swelling within the rush
Bursting with yearn to feel the wind
Which envelopes the sundered, dead brush

Swaying my desire to be freed
As the skeletons of old bones spread
Gently under the depressed, old tree
Witness to my claw-marks seeking tread

My blood boiling, writhing, tingling nerves
Wishing for freedom from this cage
From these monstrous, clinging flesh curves
I once believed were beautiful

Without the pain and the hollowed heart
My soul, empty isolation
Happy becomes a moment of art
Of love, of divine emotion

Moves the ivory, the teeth and bone
To rest within the muscle walls
Scratching the innards no more alone
No more at all, the loved one calls

The swelling to calm and settle slow
Upon a midnight, eyes of sleep
His voice is heard once again, below
The depressed, old tree's kept from weep

One more time before the cold night ends
His light rays shine upon me some;
Thawing every touch the love would send
Beating fast, flesh has overcome

Dread of nightmare steals the sleep time
His voice rings clear to stall the fears
Wings keep safe as a blanket of lyme,
Stone to keep away streams of tears.

October

The wind as chilly as it blows
Cuts deep to the bone
Sharp and steely against my cheeks
Hair in every direction

Shadows follow right behind
Without the sun's light to cast
Grass and leaves crunching round
In time with my footsteps

No costume to show
Soft, fleece sweatshirt and blues
Boots as high as my friends
Tied hastily to be alone

The aura calls the soul
As if it belongs there
The dead whisper my name
Calling to the wandering heart

Tombstones hidden behind trees
Knocked over by disregard
Barely visible to the human eye
Gray and shining before me

Hard and cold, yet welcoming
My body rests on nature's dead
Eyes closed, ready to go
But somehow wanting to stay

Mist awakens the others
Eyes fly open, waiting for rain
Faces, transparent, white
Watching me watching them, smiling

Earthy, dying smells in the air
Beauty overtakes tears in my eyes
Forms of night alone before me
I am afraid, but only of the end

Damp and cold, never more warm
Darkness looming, warming me
Rain dripping through the trees
Reminding me of walking

I remember the sun, the sky
But the stars are so much prettier
And the moon so much wiser
Why would I ever leave?

Love and Cold Winds, Part 4.1: Does Dungeoning Count as a First Date?

   Nomands was a city built around a Dungeon, its stock and trade in the items brought up by adventurers. Everyone hates paperwork... It stands to be put to word that no one in our party enjoyed sitting for hours filling out parchment after parchment to finally cement their current roster in the laws of the land.
    Like many built atop a non-euclidean space, warped and magically saturated that spawns monsters, the architecture shifted to match its surroundings. Before the plains were settled, the Dungeon Guild experimented with containment by creating three high circular walls, one encircling the other with their gates never facing one another. This indeed slowed the beasts which wandered out, but eventually the walls would be breached and the gates torn down.
    Then came the mages and architects, followed by guards. Building on the ground meant you were in constant danger, so it seemed natural to build homes atop and sides of the thick and sturdy walls. And over many years, Nomands built, ever reinforcing the mighty walls as the tall tiered buildings and arching bridges rose and the population steadily grew.
    And like many dungeon cities it shared its universal stereotype of prideful citizens, colorful characters and loot hoarders galore. Having been holed up in the free (but spartan) quarters within the second ring of the city, as the last signature was dry, our party went to get a bit drunk as they waited for the bits of metal that would allow them to be out.
    "I had no idea there would be so much paperwork." Garn said over the din of the tavern, known as High as A Kite.
    "Only in a High guild dungeon." Norra replied. "They turn from a dangerous nuisance to destroying a whole city's economy."
    "From magical reagents, to rare hides to make into some new pants," Vort raised his mug and grinned. "And for adventurers to gather gear and gold!"
    A rousing cheer broke though the chaotic sounds as they and their fellows raised their mugs and saluted to collective greed and thrill seeking. When morning came everyone at the bar was collectively grateful to the cleric of Badolinain, the God of Party and booze, as their mass healing spell also dispelled hangovers before leaving party ground zero.
     With a bit more faffing about, the merry band found themselves at the lowest level of Nomands in a cramped hallway lined with cage-like lifts suspended over the abyss that led down to the dungeon. Said lifts were old, rusting in a few places, and swayed in the constant updraft of the hole below them. This lift system was one of the remaining originals the Dungeon Guild used back in the early days before teleportation magics were really fleshed out. Now they served as a much cheaper fee with a discount on returning stones (because the only person who can service the archaic and frankly obscure machinery is a very old, nearly blind gnome).
    Needless to say, it was a slightly tense and deeply uncomfortable ride on the way down. Garn being the largest of the group was the first to sigh in relief when it touched down on solid ground. With the appropriate creak of barely-oiled hinges they stepped out onto a stone plateau carved into the side of the pit. Shallow carvings which could be called stairs slowly made their way across the vertical walls of the abyss and vanished into impenetrable darkness.
    "That looks like a long climb down." Garn said, wondering where the light source that illuminated the land was coming from.
    "Good thing we are skipping it!" Vort said, taking place amongst the other party members as they lined up along the plateau's edge. "The stairs have weak monsters along it. It's better we skip to the good bits!"
    "Wouldn't that... kill us?"the dragonborn inquired as he stood next to Vort.
    "Relax my big friend, I have just the music arraignment for this!" Lym's hands flew across the stings on his lute as his melodic voice sung a flighty song that echoed all around.
    A faint yellow light surrounded the party, clinging to them like a second skin before the seasoned adventures threw themselves over the edge a second later. A solid five seconds went by before Garn jumped in after them. He was falling, but the spell made his descent less 'speeding toward a quick death' and more 'gently floating downward.'
    Garn fumbled though his pockets and pulled out a pocket lantern. This handy glass sphere had a bio-luminescent ball of fungus floating in a clear mixture. Pulling the pin up and giving it a good shake activated the mossy ball and bathed a decent area in white light. With a bit of stretching, Garn could see a few shadowy shapes perched on the stairs and within hidden alcoves, which grew steadily larger after each layer of stairs.
    In what felt like forever, Garn finally touched down in the light of Vort's lantern.The viscera and dark greasy stains told the dragonborn he was late to the party. A hallway stood looming before them, a plain archway filled with the same pervasive darkness. With a nod and some minor bickering the party fell in line, Garn in front, with Norra and Vort side by side and Lym in the back.
    As they pushed their way though the dark hallway, it seemed perfect for an assault by a small mob of monsters, or even traps but everything was... quiet... far too quiet, in Garn's point of view.
    "Isn't it a little too quiet?" the dragonborn asked the obvious question.
    "Yeah, there used to be traps and a mob of rickety shield-wielding monsters before the dungeon master changed it." Lym explained.
    " Dungeon master?" Norra asked
    "Oh right, you were all hilariously drunk. Apparently the Dungeon finally spawned another Dungeon master after guild called Laughing Casket cleared the whole place." the bard explained.
    "What's a Dungeon master?" again the obvious question came from the warrior.
    "Trouble." Norra said.
    "A super smart monster who is in control of the dungeon." Vort explained.
    "So that door wasn't there before then?" Garn stopped to point out the massive double door that now barred their way.
    The party took a brief moment to marvel at the craftments ship of the intricate face on the door before getting ready to kick it open, but then collectively jumped back (and groaned aloud) when said face opened its eyes and opened its mouth.
    "ANWSERS MY RIDDLE THREE, THEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO OPEN ME!"
   

Shapeshifter: -Part VI- [edited]

Laying in bed, I watched my room grow ever darker, breathing and taking in the cushy, absorbent blankets. The sun set over Marblehead, and my room grew darker still. The time was approaching, and I swiftly threw my flannel pajamas to the side of the empty, black hamper. Into the steamy shower I stepped quickly, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash away with the infernal water. My fingers ran through my conditioned hair as it were composed of fairy silk, and I breathed slowly but largely, expanding my lungs wider with every inhale of pomegranate and sugar.  The scents and my energies swirled among the steaming room, caressing my aura and every inch of me into its grasp. The clouds of steam billowed around my hourglass, full figure while I stepped out to find my plush red towels folded neatly for me. I dried off and dressed to the tune of Mystery Skulls, amplifying my desires and anticipation even further. The usual bubbling sensation of refreshing energy wafted over all of my skin, not bothering me much since the early days of 'mirroring', as I called it.

I looked at the spotless, shining bathroom tiles and felt that I had forgotten something important... No matter. Time to dry. I blew out my midnight hair, pulling and brushing it out until it was straight as a ruler. I left it down, framing my made up face well, and dressed in a long black blazer on top of a black tank to keep out the cooling night time air; After all, Autumn was here. I paired it with gray skinny jeans and over the knee, flat black boots. My black faux leather purse paired with the outfit nicely, giving it an air of business casual. Perfect.

"Hot date tonight?" someone asked, and I whirred, my bones nearly escaping my skin.

"Oh, Serena!" I breathed. The spell had worked, after all.

"Just wanted to let you  know that your clothes will be done in the dryer soon. I'll be leaving now." she smiled.

"I'll walk you out!" I said, silently promising myself I'd never leave my door unlocked again.

I quickly poked my stereo to turn it off, and walked around quickly to the front door, holding it open for Serena's unassuming form. Who knew someone so unassuming could be so quiet? I scoffed at myself.

"Thank you for everything. Your work was very satisfactory, at the least, and I'm sure we'll be getting to know each other well." I handed her a key to the house. "For when I'm not here." I locked the door behind me and started down the mason stairs, about to start walking down the sidewalk.

"Um... Do you need a ride somewhere?" Serena asked, looking at the severe lack of vehicles on this side of the road.

"I'm just walking around the corner! Thank you, though!" I faked a smile and waved. The last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger. What a nice girl, but I just couldn't do that to her. The more distance between us, the better.

I marched down the sidewalk while Serena started up her car and carefully pulled away. The sun was almost completely gone then, emphasizing the glowing, promising full moon above.

A bit later, I walked up to the bar, taking a deep breath before checking the time at the door. 6:58 P. M. She'll be in her usual spot, and I looked around for a second before laying eyes on her.  She had her hair in long, tight braids which framed her face like a work of art. Her dark skin shimmered in the faint lights like the moonlight reflects upon precious onyx. I approached her and smiled, accepting my fate. She was sitting alone at the table as a queen, and I was lucky enough to have her undivided attention for the night.

We were serious at first, but after the first two martinis we were getting a bit more comfortable. As expected, she was making all of the first moves, and all I had to do was show her what a good, non-clingy, secure person I was. After doing this 5 previous times, I had become an expert at the early game with her, I hoped. She is as easy to start with as a hot knife cuts through butter.

Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and I looked into them deeply as she spoke about her job, her insecurities, her achievements, and her desires. Her dreams were beautiful, and her insecurities even more so. By the time I downed my fifth martini, however, we were barely speaking. At that point, we may as well have just been saying we wanted to have a nice night in bed together, but from what I could remember, we were just a mess of mumbled flirting and half-meant arm touches. By the end of the sixth, my mental emergency alarms rang in my head, bringing me back from the depths of drunkenness to heavily buzzed. I can't drink too much... I need my magic... To help... me... I struggled and stared at the table, refocusing my thoughts, turning my inhibitions back on, only taking a few seconds to realize that I was missing the previous ten minutes of my life. Idiot. I looked back at her dazzling eyes, her shiny braided hair behind her. She was drunk, but not too drunk to make okay choices. I can't sleep with her on the first date though, especially being intoxicated.

"This was s'posed to be a ...Date, you know? You are BEAUTIFUL!" she said a bit too loudly to me. Okay, maybe more intoxicated than I thought. She'll be getting sick soon if I don't stop her.

I asked for the check, to which she became only slightly confused, and quickly forgot as I stuffed my card into the bill as soon as it came.

After signing and paying I debated with myself for a bit. I won't sleep with her, but one kiss couldn't hurt... Could it? But she even said today was supposed to be a date... But I haven't seen her this drunk, at least we broke up last time... And honestly, I've never seen her drink this much...

"I'm... Not feelin' so good..." she half mumbled.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," I said lightly, helping her up from her chair. "I'll walk you home and you'll wake up tomorrow, totally fine." I smiled reassuringly.

"O-okay...." she said, stumbling a little on her feet.

And away we went from the bar, an epic journey of laughter and stumbling as we clamored through the quiet, chilly streets of Marblehead for a little while. We stopped at a familiar abode, one made of dark wood and angled rooftops that I had been in at least a thousand times before. I helped her up the small stairs, all the way to her door. And out of habit, I took out my own key that I had to her best friend's house, and slipped it into the keyhole. A perfect fit, as always.

"How... How'd you get that out of my purse??" She looked confusedly at the key in the lock, still drunk but clearly sobering up a little.

Time seemed to stop as I stared, wide-eyed, at what I had just done in front of her. And I froze in shock, unable to think of a clever thing to say.

Shapeshifter: Part V

Shackles holding me upright against a smooth stone surface, I awoke to... a different realm entirely, turning my stomach to shreds and stealing my breath from my heaving chest. Spheres the size of houses tumbled and turned in a black infinite abyss, dotting the vista with stars of lost hope above and around me. The spheres barely missed me, but those dots in the sky didn't look quite right either, almost as if each one had its own expressions and emotions as if they were some how alive. This turned my vision blotchy, and I attempted to close my eyes but it burned with the strength of a searing pan from an oven. I didn't dare look down in the horror that I may have been, in fact, floating, as my legs dangled past the slab I was tied to. I tried to close my eyes but they refused, and my body screamed as I opened my mouth and no sound escaped, as if I had never had one. I saw nothing of myself besides my left arm, which looked darker and skinny, a long hand sprouting forth with even longer fingers; I wasn't sure I could get used to the sight of it and panicked even further than what I believed my limits were. The unease in my stomach came to a vomit as I felt something alive within me, trying to emerge (crawl?) up my throat. The lack of breath running through my throat did not disturb me in the least, as if I never even had lungs. A windy whirring sound caught my attention for a brief few seconds, which came louder and louder, as if something were moving towards my dangling, infinitesimal body in this chaotic world of the strange. The thing in me was slimy and was coming out any way it could, a few tendrils, possibly even tentacles, at a time. Expanding and stretching, I felt my throat about to burst.

I woke up face-planting the floor again, this time too late, and I squeaked with a half scream into the solid floor when I turned my head. With a muffled thud all of me landed without too much harm done. I coughed and gasped loudly, a horribly loud cacophony of wheezes coming from my exasperated body. I writhed along the floor and held onto the rug until my breath finally slowed a bit, sweat covering the once clean, pink fluff of my small rug. I felt the terrible stomach drop of foreboding and with a start, I paused, and ran to the bathroom to vomit what was left of my dinner.

I'm never eating calamari again, I repeated in my head like a broken record, tears flowing down my face from the toxic taste of bad, half-digested seafood and bile.  After hours of retching, I was finally empty and laid on my side on the cushy blue bath mat, my muscles aching and my stomach feeling like I had swallowed needles. 

"Water..." I croaked to the air, pushing on my leg to slowly shamble over to the kitchen to get a glass, nearly falling with each reach of my now weakly legs. The walls were an excellent tool for catching myself, at the least. The cool liquid soothed the irritation while that sustenance helped my stomach stop turning with every second gone by. With a fumble or two, I hastily searched for my phone, the only device between herself and I. My 'men's' flannel pajama pants tried to contain the phone forever, but alas, I beat them at their own game by taking the phone out of its textured, industrial case. No new notifications lit up the bleak, depressing screen with 9:52 A. M. read on it. I opened the texting app and quickly typed out "Good morning. It's Annabelle" before staring into the white, infinite light that was the message box.

If I put a winking face after, it might seem too forward or creepy. But if I put no smiley I might sound like an ass. But if I do use a smiley she might think I'm too friendly. Or she might hate smileys. Goddamned human norms...

I started breathing shorter and I placed my phone down, closed my eyes, and inhaled with all of my might. My lungs were squashed like the gods were clamping down on each one with a large, muscular hand.

Calm down, Annabelle... You idiot... I really need to do something about this anxiety, and this weird lung-squeezing sensation.. It's going to become a huge problem. And with that thought, I forced my shaking hands to pick up my phone, type a regular smiley face and send the message, then dragged myself over to the marshmallow couch with frailty. I let the couch devour all of me that it would allow, with a box of crackers in one hand and The Dreamlands Journals: X in the other.

Serena will be here soon, at least. Hopefully she's good. I'd hate to lose another mundane servant...

The Dreamlands series didn't sit as well with me today as it normally would, as I kept flashing back where I was a few hours ago. Each time I saw the long, thin, brown arm coming out of me, my stomach turned once more. My body crawled with specks of pins and needles all over with my strangely quick, but quite normal healing abilities. The clock chirped as it struck noon, and my crackers were running low. I prepared to see Serena by primping my messy bun and wiping off my streaked makeup from some days prior. After all, who doesn't love a post-scheming B. O.?

Serena was normal, to say the least; 'Mundane' and 'inconspicuous' were her middle names. The stomach churns pried my attention from The Journals and, giving up, I decided to watch Serena instead. I had barely noticed her coming in as she gave a mousy "hello!" and begun the work I was paying her for immediately. She had shoulder length wavy brown hair pulled into a top knot with a bandanna over most of it, with dark brown eyes and an earnest vibe that seeped into everything she touched. She was perfectly normal, for hired help. The best part about her was her lack of awareness of my false walls.

My leg itched when, with a buzz, my phone finally vibrated. I picked it up, and it was her.

"Good Afternoon :)

You and me, martinis, 7 o'clock tonight. You in?"

Her forwardness never ceased to impress me, and I dropped my phone onto the wooden table with a clatter while holding my breath. I read it over once, then twice, then three times, after picking it up with a careful grip.

"She wasn't supposed -" Serena turned and looked at me, listening, as she was the only person here. "I just -" I stopped at that, feeling my mind start shorting out, and made a heel turn before swiftly sliding on my striped socks into my bedroom.

"She wasn't... She wasn't supposed to ask me out... THIS soon..." I half-breathed to the air. The other half was a loud, ever increasing wheeze. My senses began veering, as I then heard the ticking of the analog clock as if it were right next to my ear, TICK... TOCK... TICK... TOCK... The ticking began to drift away, but before I could feel relief, I smelled the cleaning solution Serena used in the kitchen filling my nostrils with ammonia. My nose and sinuses were on fire, and I threw myself on the bed at the woozy unraveling of my balance.

After what felt like a whole day of having my eyes closed, I then could hear my phone vibrating inside my brain, my skull, my bones, like magical vibrations were torturing and sensationalizing my unassuming body before I even knew what was happening.

Magical seizure? The words came to mind, but I hadn't felt anything like it before in the 106 years I had been on this strange earth.

Asthma... Magic... HALT. I gathering up all the Willpower I could within myself, feeling it flow through me like a warm, violent liquid. That I could concentrate was certainly a miracle, allowing me to finally end the curse Annabelle had been stricken with from infancy. Warm liquid pooled in my lungs and it stung and burned as hot as lava. If you could imagine pouring bleach into your chest cavity, that wouldn't even begin to describe the agony I had just begun putting myself through. The pain in my chest completely covered all of the pain I would have had to bear within my skull.

I maintained a firm grip on the flannel sheets and quilted blankets of my bed, just barely being able to direct my screams into the bed, hopefully muffling them enough that Serena wouldn't hear.

I awoke several hours later facing my ceiling, all of my pain and mental anguish finally gone. The relief overflowed within my soft, squishy shell of a body. My lungs felt oddly clear and free from strain, and my head was sorting itself out at a quick and steady tempo. "Thank the Gods." I whispered to the peace and quiet of my room. The different recesses of my mind, no matter how deep, had been knocked around quite a bit. I could feel the disarray cluttering corners and niches of the dark halls that mapped my thoughts. My palms stung with nail marks where I had clawed through the silk, violet sheets, drawing drops of blood.


I rolled over with more ease than ever before, my new body finally becoming accustomed to my unfamiliar spirit. Enjoying the lifting of weights off of my chest, I reached for my phone on the cold, solid end table.

It was all real, right?
To my delight, the message was actually there. The anxiety of the day that had melted away was soon replaced with overwhelming determination. I caught myself smiling at my phone as I answered, "Sure! I'd love that." 

Shapeshifter -Part III-

Between shopping and moving, all I could remember was falling: falling into a dark living room, with a bear skin rug and a dim fireplace. A red velvet couch sat next to me as the music of life quickly muted to eerie silence. I floated still, feet touching the floor with no feeling. The lack of voices in my head was both a relief and horrifying. I was alone... Actually alone. No one would find me here. All that surrounded this room was pitch. Where there should have been walls there was shadow. Even with the irregularities, I held a feeling of calm underneath the dread. My stomach sank with realization. Is this mine? I shuddered with a cold chill, and when I blinked a gold and black crown appeared upon the velvet couch, about the size for a king. About my size, I silently thought to myself. I could hold myself back no longer, and temptation pulled me to the crown. With a leap, I was in my blankets, my bed, the beaming sunlight from my window on my face and reality sinking in. I could scarcely breathe with my lungs burning for air.

The weird, foreboding dream haunted me every night without fail.

I woke up in my bedroom, standing near the edge of my bed,  watching the floor come closer and closer to my face faster than you could say the word ‘ouch’. My life flashed before my eyes, reminding me again of her aura and presence, but luckily, my arms reached the floor before the rest of me did. Sweat poured from my head down to my chin, then dripped onto the fluffy, purple rug I picked up yesterday.

“Uuuuuuuuuggggggggghh,” I vocalized to myself and the ceiling, rolling onto my back. At least the softness of the rug was a little comforting, cushioning my back from the wooden floor. My beating head went away once I thought of her, and her velvet soft skin, her silver streaked, black silky hair in the wind like it was straight out of a shampoo commercial. I wondered how she was, if she smelled the same, if she cut her hair, if she got that promotion…

I snapped out of my mind as my phone buzzed in my pocket. A reminder read "PART I START" lit up across the screen. A grin grew across my face with a demure and maniacal feel. Let us begin.

I read my list one last time, rehearsing everything in my head based on how it went the last 6 times. I slipped on skinny jeans and a striped shirt with a new bracelet. It will work this time, I know it will. I just have to have a little faith. I brushed eye shadow and blush, and drew the sharpest cat eyeliner possible. My name is Annabelle Chevalier. I went to college for Literature and that I have an avid interest in reading and writing. I am 35, and I take vitamins. Exercise and health is important to me. I grabbed my new favorite bag, a classic brown messenger bag made of faux leather and careful planning. I was adopted and have no idea of my biological parents, and my adoptive parents passed away at least 3 years ago. I smiled a couple of times in the mirror to make sure I looked perfect, and then checked the clock. I was right on time.

I marched over to the corner, sirens blaring in my head, ignoring a couple of idiots on the street. I peered into the window of the bookstore. The angelic, silver haired wonder of my interest was indeed sitting at one of the three cafe tables, sipping her favorite tea and reading the first book of the Dreamlands Journals series for the 28th time. I felt my hair to make sure it was still pristine and walked in, shoulders straight and head high. I couldn't feel my limbs, as they disintegrated into nothing from just one look at her. My head nearly beat out of my skull while I badly feigned perusing the aisles for the next fiction novel to read. The temptation to look at her was pulling me ever deeper into this hole I was digging for myself.

Her long black hair becoming lustrous and metallic, sparkling under the ceiling lights appeared to glow with an otherworldly sheen. My hands ached to feel it swim in between my fingers. I caught myself shortening in breath, and I closed my eyes to force my lungs to take in as much air as possible, slowly. My breath was slightly audible as I inhaled with all of my might.

Needles shot up my arm as my nails dug deep into my palm. My other hand just trembled, fingers outstretched. Breathing helped a little with both cases.

I opened my eyes in time to see her smiling at me. From her table, probably 20 feet away, she clearly could have seen me attempting to squash an anxiety attack from possessing my body. Why me? I looked up at the ceiling as if to look at the sky, at the heavens, at the gods in embarrassment. I felt the flush of blood go to my ears and cheeks, as I had each and every time I attempted to seduce her again. Why do I even try to be subtle?

"Are you okay?" she asked, giggling a bit at my social failure. Gliding up to me with the poise of a beauty queen, she spoke, "I don't mean to pry, but... Well, I am a psychologist, and it appeared you were having a bit of a rough time there. Would you like to talk about it?"

I felt disbelief, which of course I probably showed on my stupid face, and while I paused she waiting only a few moments before, "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have offered. I'll go sit down again." She walked back to her table looking down at her feet, fidgeting with her fingers together.

The awkwardness consumed us both, while I stood there speechless in front of the Miscellaneous Fiction aisle, and she tried but failed to concentrate on her book.

"I-- you know what? Sure. I'd love to ta--" I coughed as my voice cracked from nearly asphyxiating myself with anxiety. My lungs were squeezing themselves shut faster than I could breathe in. I forced another deep breath, and she smiled. "Talk. I'd love to talk."

Shapeshifter -Part II-

Marching over to my night table in my mundane bedroom, I slid the mahogany drawer open with a cold, calculated plan where my soul should be and a string of laser-focused thoughts in my head. The overwhelming urge to collapse almost overcame my stiff, cold body but I only barely gave a damn. I shuffled through the drawer in a panic, until I saw the black, velvet box that held my affection for the woman within its pillowed insides. I dared not open it, for if anything happened to this item, this ring... I sweated even more at the thought.

I held the box to my face, breathing in its scent as if it were a fresh bed of flowers. The warm drops flowing down my forehead onto the floor narrowly missed its edges. It didn't smell like much of anything, but I felt myself absorbing a piece of her into my lungs, my veins; Filling up the emptiness that everything else in life brought to me. After a few minutes I placed it carefully back behind the mess of miscellaneous clutter that filled the hardly-used table, and placed my face in my hands, the rest of me slowly sliding down the side of the bed. Before reaching the floor I tried to organize my thoughts but it was no use - focus was nowhere to be found within the reaches of such insanity as this. Her voice, her smile, her theories, her passions echoed through my head. I felt my chilled, soaked face and knew that I was past the point of no return. I gently landed on the ground, knowing that I only had a few more chances with her, meaning maybe two or three. I can not explain how I knew that day, but in my heart of hearts, I was certain.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I nearly threw it across the room in terror, as I forgot it even existed. It was a call from Catherine. Catherine to me, was a wonderful woman to play with, but never anything more. Last time I saw her was 6 months prior, about a week before I tried once more with the love of my life.

I rejected the call so I could think, and possibly die, in peace and alone: the only way I'd like things to go without being in her warming embrace.

'Like, you have no ambitions out of life except to be with me', echoed through my head hundreds of times in a second. 'I'm more into people who are, you know... Passionate about things. This isn't normal. I think you need help.' her voice scraped a new headache through my already pained skull, and kept repeating until another sound made me jump out of my skin.

The phone chirped loudly and my heart stalled. It was a text from Angela.

"Hey handsome, u free? I saw that u guys broke up online. So much for love huh? Hmu if u wanna start having fun again ;)"

Crushing the plastic and glass with my hand, I sent the pieces of pointless booty call all over the plush carpet. I forced myself to stand, legs still wobbling under my slight figure, and forced myself back to the kitchen with the conviction of a saint to drink some more water. Munching on crackers also helped to calm the physical distress of heart break, but only because I hadn't eaten in what felt like years and drank an ocean's amount of rum.

It was quiet. Too quiet. My thoughts wouldn't let this night be a peaceful one. Doing magic was the only way out for me to make it through this, or else I was ready to die trying. The thought of doing the spell again made my stomach twist, but hell, I already had my will written up, so why not? Lumbering over to the clean full length mirror of my bedroom, legs still wobbly, I took more deep breaths and downed one more glass of water. I squeezed with my hand and embraced the pain that shot up my arm from the splintered glass. The crackling and high-pitched shatter was somehow comforting ; The caress of the blood warmed my clammy flesh. It was just another sign that I was alive, and that this was the prime reality realm.

I smeared my palm across the drivers' license photo, leaving a streak of crimson plasma over the unsuspecting woman's face. The searing pain from the cuts made it all the more easy to focus on the ritual. I blindfolded myself with a plain black cloth and grinned wide. The cuts burned with an energy that fed me past the point of being satiated. I stopped feeling the wobble in my legs, proudly standing tall with inhuman power. I only said what came to mind as I wiped my screaming palm along the mirror, drawing unknown symbols to myself.

"This body is mine. You are mine. Annabelle Chevalier, you shall be mine forever forward. I take all of you inside me and absorb you fully. Your face and body belong to me. Your mask, bound of human flesh and spirit shall be imprisoned within my very souls. Come to me now, as you lack the freedom of choice forever more."

I repeated "This body is mine now, Annabelle Chevalier." over and over until the agonizing burning of my veins and body stopped. I nearly blacked out until I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. It was sooner than it was the other times at least... Perhaps I was growing in power?

I heavily forced my breath to settle while I felt my back sink into the carpet a little deeper. It probably hurt, but I could barely feel a thing past the throbbing pains of muscles all over my body. My lungs and heart finally began to slow and the next thing I remembered was waking up in my hardly used, king-sized bed.

The vigor was almost overwhelming - clearly this woman had a penchant for physical activity and healthy eating. I woke up not only energized for the day, but even the unfamiliar emotion of joy overcame me as I hopped out of my bed refreshed and ready for the day ahead. The craving for kale was a strong side effect, but one that was well worth its cost for this fabulous machine.

I felt my soft curvy hips and up my hourglass waist, then braced myself for the mirror. The sight could have been shocking, and severely disorientating whenever I went through with a change like this. I winced a bit but then jumped in front of the mirror, only glancing and then looking head-on at this puppet that would hopefully be my newest tool of seduction.

My clothes from yesterday were a little tight, as I realized looking in the mirror. My new flawless, olive flesh was a bit squished in my tank top, but at least my polka dotted pajama pants were still too big. My hips, waist, arms,  pretty much everything were a bit bigger than I was used to, but they were fabulous, and I knew I'd draw the attention I so desperately needed. My raven black hair truly caught my eye, even as it lay in disarray, partially covering bright green eyes.

"Time to go shopping." I smiled. The awe from seeing myself this curvy made me almost giddy. For once, I truly felt like I couldn't accidentally hurt my body pushing a grocery cart or picking up too many boxes; Not that my supernatural strength wasn't enough, but that bodies which lack a lot of muscle always felt like they'd snap if I even stood up the wrong way.

I made sure to change into well-fitting clothes before heading off to find the perfect wardrobe, my platinum credit card in purse and my sunglasses shielding my eyes from the burning hell that was daytime. It would have been only a day before the next part of the plan would commence - attempting first contact. The anticipation would have killed me, if it not for the distractions of normal human activities, including moving addresses, donating and then buying furniture and clothes, and transferring bank funds. It's easy to forge your signature when you are the person you say you are, or were.

Shapeshifter -Part I-

She kissed me, telling me goodbye for the last time. My soul felt less worn this time; perhaps I could finally be free from this pain I kept injecting myself with. But I loved her, and this game that we played. I loved it because she had no idea... Or I loved it because of how much I loved her. Perhaps I just loved the chase? Or the world was just cruel enough to relieve me of being a masochist while also making me love to self-afflict. What I do know is this: I both loved and hated the stab of the knife of rejection under my skin, over and over again; It was that she left me again, but also gave me a chance for a new beginning. I knew this wouldn't be the last time. It couldn't be, because we were meant to be together.

I was put here to love her, this goddess among mortals, and I would stop fucking up long enough to grow old with her. Or at least, to watch her grow old, her hooded eyes growing matured crow's feet and her glistening hair streaking silver... Something about my interest in her both terrified and excited me. The idea of her aging, well... It made my heart beat out of my chest and my skin tingle up from my feet to my head. And she would love me for what I am... I hoped that one day, this mysterious force within me that made me different from others would be what put me ahead in the race to her heart.

I looked up at the sky and realized... In seven days she would be 40 years old. Forty, and still looking like she could kick my ass at the drop of a stone. Most people would never catch my eye for a moment past the age of 24, but her... Somehow the more she aged, the more alluring her scent; the more wise she became, the more I yearned to listen to her clear, dominating thoughts. In my ever-expanding life I have never once laid eyes upon a human of her caliber. I grinned wide with a tantalizing shiver up my spine as I thought of how spectacular she was.

And yet there we were, saying goodbye for the sixth time. I was standing all alone in my house, the empty air weighing heavily on my mind after she left, and with a start, my determination kicked in. My heart beating faster, I looked to my left at the entryway wall.

I stared at myself in the mirror, wiping unfamiliar tears from my chiseled cheekbones. My long, thick, strawberry blonde hair framed my pointed chin and smokey eyes flawlessly. A look of determination crossed my eyebrows and I resolved to never let this happen again, for the sixth time. I marched over to the bathroom wall, knocked on it once, then twice, then three times and slid the falsity to the side with conviction. The loud crack of the false wall splitting was registered but didn't startle me, as I was too busy hearing my raging thoughts echoing in my ears and heart. With a slap, I firmly hit my palm upon the wood, sliding along the blisters and leaving a trail of perfectly crafted wood underneath. And there it was in its handcrafted glory, my black, wooden, mysterious box. Picking it up carefully, I breathed in its heavenly aroma of old polish mixed with an unidentifiable odor. This was what hope smelled of, and I carried it to the kitchen table.

Taking a deep breath, I gently but firmly pressed in the symbols on each face in the correct order, making a click sound with each impress. The cover flew across the room and hit the wall with a bang and crashed to the floor. I flipped the box over and passports, licenses, birth certificates, credit cards, and social security cards clattered against the polished cherry. Six of each sat on the table, and I could practically hear the personalities murmuring in my head, a little too clearly. I shuffled through the documents and the voices became louder, and clearer. 

"How could you do this to her?" asked Vincent, who had been dead for 15 years. 

"You monster. What is wrong with you?!" yelled Brielle, who had been dead for 5. 

"I WILL KILL YOU." said a familiar but unidentified demonic growl, as my mind felt like it was stabbed through with an ice pick. 

They each hounded me, one by one, beginning to overlap each other until I couldn't understand what any of them were saying and they were so loud that I collapsed with my hands covering my ears. I had heard them all before, but that demonic growl hit me even harder than last time.

"YOU FIEND!!"

"MONSTER!!!"

"ABOMINATION!!!"

I crumpled like tissue paper as they tortured me, scraping at my eyes, my chest, my brain... I yelled at them to stop, let me be in peace, that it was all my fault and I was sorry... I could feel them tearing at my memories, biting and scratching at my emotions and the rational parts of my brain... I sobbed loudly as I felt dreams and nightmares once remembered, slipping away as if they were smoke escaping a leaking chamber. 

After what seemed like an eternity, I came into consciousness again around 3:00 A.M. I found myself on the plush carpet of my bedroom closet, in the pitch black, feeling as though I had drunk nothing but rum for a week straight. My mouth feeling like sand but tasting like bile, I apparently had vomited. I made the mistake of feeling my chest, which was covered in a green and brown substance liquid, and tried to stand. Holding on to the hanging rod, I clumsily pulled myself up and felt the sharp pain of dehydration mixed with a healthy dose of malnutrition within my body. However, it did not matter... It was all for her. It would all be worth it in the end.

I grabbed for myself some water from the fridge and sipped the cool, icy poison slowly. To my surprise once again, it did in fact make me feel a little better. I then stuffed a slice of whole wheat bread into my mouth and ate it with ferocity before staring at the table again. I had a couple of options available, but which one would give me the best chance?

Slowly picking up a white drivers' license from the table, I thoughtfully scratched my chin with my other hand.

"Annabelle Chevalier. Sounds like a good enough name to me. And it'll have to be. If it's not, only the Gods know that you're dead anyway." I snatched up the driver's license, the birth certificate, and the social security card. I even took the passport, just in case. 

N'yarlathotep (God Slave)

Power dripping from your
Cosmic, hypnotic eyes
Smells of rotting chaos,
Entropy, fear, passion...

Desire is a siren
Eating away my fears
Waving away all those
Reasonable concerns

Versus my own instincts
Seduced by the nightmares
Desire chews, gnaws, swallows
Awful sights beholden

Pharoah King awaits me
Draws the rope, I comply
Aeons of spirit gape
Witnessing the contracts

Most left unmet by ink
Papers speaking untold
Unable to sign myself
Away completely still

Hills speak, deserts cry here
Exploring gathers doubt
Sights beyond the real, though
Familiar somehow

Blinking, crowned jewels appear
Upon your lying head
Sandstone and marble, quartz
Smoothly line your castle walls

Sentences flood my brain
Thoughts chained to words, to mind
Sirens blaring, in-conceived
Half of what they used to be

Tongue more elegant, sharp
Stabs the flesh that rebels.
Rewards the brain that speaks
For the strange being now

Intellect decreasing.
In-comprehended voice,
Vocals to your music,
Nightmares and the screaming

Untold horrors hidden
Incomprehensible
Voice escapes my quick mouth
Not understanding the words

Shutting down now, help me?
Can not make a small sound
Space and time abandoned
Me and all of my soul

To this dream I now live
Trapped, caged, in this body
Always yearning, can't leave
But can not stay much more

Kill me, for I'm enslaved
If you can hear me, please
Losing all of myself
Into the black abyss

Its black nothing staring
Into me as I once did
Into its inky depths
Eyes rolling back in time