MalevolentPetals

 Chapter 1- What was That?      The moon lingers in the sky even as the sun breeches the horizon. I sit out in the chilly breeze. The wind digs its claws into my shoulders and I struggle to shake it off with small shivers. All the shivering rattles my brain and makes my head pound against the silence that has settled upon our campsite while all the others continue to sleep peacefully. Savanah crawls out of the tent just as the sun`s rays pierce the treetops and spills into our clearing.        "What are you doing up (L/n)?" She mutters through a yawn.        I take a moment to decipher her yawned out speech. Once I comprehend it I respon

       My mother did not hold me much as a baby, and rarely hugged me as a young child. In fact, my mother had always been odd about touching even for something as simple as kissing my forehead. For many that may suggest neglect, but my mother did it for my own good. She did everything she could for my own good.       My mother can no longer hold me, or kiss my forehead. Two years back she passed from a curable disease, all because I took away her chance of survival.

A motherless child Stuck on the streets, cold and lost Of clothing, the child had none The child had nothing at all Hiding in a tall building, it was empty All the others were gone The child`s hair is gone A poor, malnourished child The child`s stomach forever empty The child`s thoughts forever lost The child almost had it all Parents, siblings, but the child had none There had always been none The family was gone They had never been there at all They were never there for the child In body and spirit, they were lost Leaving the child`s heart empty The streets are now empty They hold absolutely none Besides the lost, Those too far gone, And

I am not good enough                    Never will I be just good enough I am more than good enough         But often I am far less than good enough I excel when I try                            I fail from my fear I try even when I cannot excel         I cower from the new Through my hard work                    Despite energy I waste on fear I am greater than “good enough”     I am lower than “good enough” No matter what others say               I can never be less Whatever they say I am                   I am not just I cannot be                                      Good enough

Bitter and cold                                          Their icy hearts are empty   From all they have already lost                   The warmth has long died The wind bites and tears                           But they do not budge from the cold While the innocent prepare for war            They prepare to taste their enemy’s blood In trenches and ditches                            In trees and bushes They hide away                                         They prepare for an ambush   Staring at pictures of smiling families        Tearing apart families that aren`t their own They know they are in the right                 They may just

He sits alone by the sea          The near silence consumes him The crashing waves                 In the whispering air His only friends                       He stares up to the heavens missing her He carries the sea with him     Taking her in a glass of seashells and dust For he loves the sea                 It is all he has left of her, the love of his life

     “Ethan!” Dominic shouts.     He roughly slaps my back nearly sending me tumbling forward with my backyard, redneck, handmade animal traps. The cages rattle as they hit together. I cast him a sideways glare, the rising sun reflecting off the metal boxes and gleaming in my eyes.     “Ya see, about that rabbit I wanted you to catch.” Dominic dives right in before I can respond, wiping more paint onto his already color splotched white pants.     “Yea?”     “Well uh, it ain`t a rabbit.” He leads the way into the house and slowly pulls down the attic ladder.     I flinch as the steps slid

     Silver light floods the ocean shore in thin wavering streaks, setting an ivory glow to the marsh house, at least in the places where moss did not claim the siding. The breeze howls quietly against the crashing waves. It hums through the long reeds of the marshland so the tall blades flicker and play while most eyes sleep. The crickets chirp a sweet tune careful of the hidden frog ready to devour them. The small shimmering creature leaps into the air splashing into one of the deep spots of the marsh with a spray of twinkling water droplets. It slips away between the reeds, gliding through the water just as it had glided through the air.

     It`s so grey out, clouds blocking the sun as light drizzles of water slip from the sky. A slight mist leaks from the clouds above and crawls over small green blades in thin curling wisps. I stare out the grey lined window at the soaked brown trees. Raising their bare branches to the sky embracing the frigid tear drops they refuse to bow to the wind. The wind moans in protest to this defiance, but all it manages to do is send a chill up my spine.     I can feel the empty space behind me, the cool air creeping close to wrap an arm across my exposed shoulders. The light grey covering provides no warmth and the blanket is locked in the room