Short Story for class

Eyes snap open and you know that you are awake but your body doesn’t respond. You can feel as if your arms and legs are thrashing to move but you lay there paralyzed. Heart beat racing, your eyes focus on the ceiling. You try to calm yourself. Your grandmother would have told you there was a witch riding your back. You begin to feel hands pressing down on your shoulders and you find it hard to tell if you are still breathing. It’s silly, you’re just dreaming right? There is a scratching sound coming from beneath your bed and you hear a strange whimper.

Jerking yourself awake, you sit up in bed panting and sweating. The summer’s night air is heavy and thick. You glance at the digital clock on the night stand; it reads “3:00 AM.” Your heart is still pounding and your head is throbbing. The throbbing and pounding make your eyes feel as if they will burst out of your skull. Slapping one hand to cover your eyes the other clumsily reaches to grab the glass of water off the night stand. Miss; sending the glass tumbling to the floor, water spills and soaks into the carpet.

“Dammit!” you spit stumbling out of bed, grabbing the cup and staggering into the bathroom. Your breathing is heavy as you open the medicine cabinet and grab a few aspirins. As you gulp down the pills with warm bathroom tap water a shiver runs up your spine. For a moment you pause your breathing…the breathing -- your head whips to the door as your stomach sinks heavily in dread. Your dilated pupils soak in all of the darkness and makes out the corner of an end table in the hall and photo frames hanging on the wall against the tattered floral wall paper.

Shuffling back to your bed you feel exhausted. You’ve been waking up at 3AM for the past few weeks and it’s really beginning to affect your health. Typically you would have fallen back to sleep by now but the scratching sound reappears grabbing your attention. You imagine what kind of rodent has been nesting under your house for these past weeks jostling you awake but then it begins to whimper. Poor thing. Your face tingles with relief and is heated with sadness as you imagine some stray pooch has been struggling to keep her pups alive under your house this entire time. And here you were thinking about witches, rodents and ghouls. Grabbing the flashlight from your dresser you saunter into your kitchen and place a few slices of turkey meat onto a tray. You’ve done this before, take in a sick animal and nurse it to health but your mother never let you keep them did she?

Finding your way around to the crawl space outside, the whimpering of the animal is clear as you crawl on your belly to get closer. A pair of glowing eyes meet your gaze and you whisper sweet nothings towards the animal to keep it calm. Using the army crawl technique you learned in elementary school, you inch closer to the animal and push the plate towards it. A breeze blows though and your gut clenches and twists as you catch a horrible stench. Your heart begins to thump in a whisper, your face and neck burn hot as your veins gasp. A normal animal would hiss or growl at a stranger approaching their vulnerable offspring. And what is that stench? You remember the flashlight in your hand. Your heart begins to moan at the sudden dread emanating from your gut. Flicking the switch to the flashlight, the light bursts onto the creature in front of you outlining its slender dark body heaving up and down as it breathes in and whimpers out.

Your eyes stretch in horror and your pupils scream as they inhale every detail. At the end of its snout, its fangs drip with blood and there is flesh and hair in between its teeth. The scratching sounds you heard were of its sharp horns grazing against the floor boards as the beast feasted on its prey. A bone snapped in half as its long slender forked tongue laps at the marrow.

You stare into the creatures diamond shaped pupils and you begin to feel hands pressing down on your shoulders and you find it hard to tell if you are still breathing. The Witch. You thrash your limbs about to scurry from underneath the house but you are not moving. You are struck with paralysis and your heart screams as it runs from your chest and lodges into your throat cutting out any means to cry for help. The creature lifts a dark arm and stretches its claws mockingly slow towards you. The increase of adrenaline to the heart amplifies the stench of rotten eggs, decay, burning and sulfur, clouding your senses. The stench of Hell is what you conclude as your bowels release with your last breath.

The Devil’s Hour

By Jameelah Adas

The Short Story I am MOST likely submitting to class

Your eyes are open and you know that you are awake but your body doesn’t respond. You can feel as if your arms and legs are thrashing to move but you lay there paralyzed. Heart beat racing, your eyes focus on the ceiling. You try to calm yourself. Your grandmother would have told you that there was a witch riding your back. You begin to feel hands pressing down on your shoulders but you don’t feel as if you are taking any breaths. It’s silly, you’re just dreaming right? There’s a scratching sound coming from beneath your bed and you hear a strange whimper.

You jerk yourself awake panting and sweating. The summer’s night air is heavy and thick. Sitting up in bed you glance at the digital clock on the night stand; it reads “3:00 AM.” Your heart is pounding and your head is throbbing. The throbbing and pounding make your eyes feel as if they are going to burst out of your skull. You slap one hand to cover your eyes as the other clumsily reaches to grab the glass of water next to the clock. Miss. You send the glass tumbling to the floor. Water spills and soaks into the carpet.

“Dammit!” you spit as you stumble out of bed, grabbing the cup and staggering into the bathroom. Your breathing is heavy as you open the medicine cabinet and grab a few aspirins. There’s a shiver up your spine as you gulp down the pills with warm bathroom tap water. For a moment, you pause, your breathing…the breathing…your head whips to the door. Your dilated pupils soak in all of the darkness and makes out the corner of an end table in the hall and photo frame hanging on the wall.

Shuffling back to your bed you feel exhausted. Waking up at 3 AM every morning for 3 weeks, interrupting the REM cycle can be quite aggregating. And to have the same paralysis before waking is very odd. Typically you’d have fallen back to sleep by now but the scratching sound reappears. You imagine what kind of rodent is nesting under your home but then it begins to whimper. Poor thing. Maybe some stray pooch has been struggling to keep her pups alive under the house this entire time. And here you were thinking about witches and ghouls. Grabbing the flashlight from your dresser you saunter into your kitchen and place a few slices of turkey meat onto a tray. You’ve done this before, take a sick animal home and nurse it to health but your mother never let you keep them.

Finding your way around to the crawl space you can clearly hear the whimpering of the animal as you crawl on your belly to get closer. A pair of glowing eyes meets your gaze and you whisper sweet nothings towards the animal to keep it calm. Using the army crawl technique you learned in elementary school, you inch closer to the animal and push the plate towards it. A breeze blows though and you catch a horrible stench. Suddenly everything feels wrongs. A normal animal would hiss or growl at a stranger approaching their vulnerable offspring. And what is that stench? You remember the flashlight in your hand. Turning it on, the light shines on the creature in front of you. Its slender dark body heaving up and down as it breathes in and whimpers out. At the end of its snout, its fangs drip with blood and there is flesh and hair in between its teeth. The scratching sounds you heard were of its sharp horns grazing against the floor boards as the beast feasted on its prey. You both stare at each other and you begin to feel hands pressing down on your shoulders but you don’t feel as if you are taking any breaths. You thrash your limbs about to scurry from under the house but you’re not moving. You’re struck with paralysis and your heart beats to run from your chest. The creature lifts a dark arm and stretches its claws mockingly slow towards you. The stench of rotten eggs, decay, burning and sulfur cloud your senses. The stench of Hell is what you conclude as your bowels release with your last breath.

The Devil’s Hour

By Jameelah Adas

No Heaven

I think I like this one better. So here is the mix I did to Justin Nozuka's song No Heaven. Everything of his is in quotes and my words aren't but it should still read as a story. I don't know how one would cite this. Enjoy!

Welcome brother, can I get you anything?
"Young brother hand me the gun."
What are you -
"On with it."
Not until -
"Off with it."
Brother what's wrong? Why are you so upset?
"I'm burning strong like the sun.  I do believe, it's time for me."
Time for you? What are you talking about? What happened Old Brother?
"Oh it's gonna hurt. Then I'm free."
I'll help you not hurt. Old Brother just tell me what happened. We'll work through this.
"I'll be in heaven with the angels; flying over water I'm free."
Brother why do you smile? I want you here with me. Forget about heaven, forget being free. Stay with me.
"There'll be no darkness, no pain, no pain."
Old Brother I don't like this idea. Tell me what to do for you.
"Young Brother right when I'm done, follow me, so we can be together."
I'll follow you anywhere, to the store, over a cliff, even to heaven but Old Brother I'm scared. I don't know what to do.
"Watch me as I put it to my head. Hold my hand. Don't turn your head."
Brother no. Brother I can't. I'm afraid.
"Don't turn your head."
I don't want to watch. I don't know what will happen to you Dear Brother.
"Soon I'll be in heaven, with the angels. Flying over water. I'm free."
This is stupid. What will there be? What could there be on the other side of that trigger that's not here with me?
"There'll be no darkness, no pain, no pain."
Brother just listen to reason!
"The anger will be gone."
Stop this delusion and give me the gun.
"All depression will be gone."
Listen to me! This isn't the way.
"Only love from everyone."
It's not the answer!
"Soon as I pass one."
Brother I love you here and now! And I can help you, but only if you let me-
"10, 9, 8..."
Brother wait! I'll find help!
"7, 6, 5..."
Brother, stop please!
"4, 3..."
I beg of you Old Brother, stay.
"2..."
I can't heal your pain?
"One."
...
"Old Brother what have you done!"
Thank you family and friends for sharing your support...
"Oh Brother what have you done?"
...My brother was a great man...
"What if there's no heaven..."
...and none of us here will ever really know what was going on in his head.
"...and you find yourself alone. Walking through a tunnel."
We all have our own personal demons...
"Brother everyone has gone."
He didn't prevail.
"Betrayed by the one."
...and his got the better of him.
"You rest conscious in your grave."
I've heard your mumbles about suicide and hell...
"My brother's been betrayed."
...but none of us alive truly know.
"What about then? What if there's no heaven?"
We don't know.

I Thunk Something Good

I've seen some very word worthy photos and I am going to start a new project! When I come across something that sparks and idea, I will branch off of it with my idea in the mix. For instance I see a picture and I see a story behind it. I'll write a short story based on the picture, share the pic and the photographer that took it. Or more recently, I will share something I wrote with a song as the base and my poetry in the mix. I'll upload it after I revise... I want to really feel my works.

Ramble

Is the context in which this piece was written as important as the soul that went into it? Maybe it is for a better understanding. But if you can't understand it then maybe you can find something, a line, an idea, anything, that will stick out for you and help you on your journey. 

Sometimes I feel like the smallest soul in the world.

Finding attention in low places and surrounded by clouds of inadaquate people.

                              whispering to me useless things

         Shrewd attempts to lift me up              Bold attempts to crush me down

   I'm just a fiber, a bitter piece left behind by broken thread. Plucked off the shoulder and let go to drift slowly to my demise. 

Wait they say,

Wait they'll tell me.

I've been waiting for that switch to flip but we all too often forget;

                                                                                                          even that isn't so easy.

We must FIRST acknowledge that there is a switch that needs to be flipped...SECOND we must will ourselves to go over to the switch and twitch the necessary muscles to enable the flip of course we must hope the nerves and cells will register this claim.

 Once flipped, it is up to the switch to master it's flame to send a flicker of energy to cause an effect.

ENERGY! If only it were that easy to convert useless matter to useful energy

But my supplies have been drained.

      I'm being Crucified like Christ....perhaps due to my waiting.

He was very patient by will, me by force, yet I am still bestowed this honor to hang on a cross, a cross roads of Saint and Sinner.

I've thought to walk in his footsteps to try and be him...

                                      but I stumbled too much

         And the trail was lost.

I'm a sinner to my soul by letting it shrivel in darkness as we waited for a patience like Christ's,

We must hang for our sins but we are too small for any to take notice. So we remain lost standing at the cross which has morphed into our roads where trails are barely seen but felt by the heart and because we cannot and will not please them all we lay in the dirt as a fiber.

     Plucked from the very shoulder of Love by Hate and left to float to our demise. And as we float we search for our self worth.     We may be just a fiber but a fiber of gold, the very gold thread that is weaved and etched in God's Throne, 

                        We once sat like Him and again we may, but only be the energy we provide to stir up a wind and rise 

above

all 

odds

        and clouds of inadequate people who sullied our name with sickened thoughts and who have tried to crush the very fiber of our soul. The fiber of us, that we are, The soul once so small, I waited and I've grown! 

And here at least I can breathe again

and sit like God on a golden throne above the world in the highest of places.

  The high of my self worth and Love. 

And Love will flow for us. From our sole to our crown because we are all kings.