wind howls,heart thudding. twigs snap… dryness turns to wetness as my feet hit the ground. Silence…rushing russling wooshing .pushing me back . Panic sets in and i take off . ripping , slicing ,and cutting. thorns tear at my skin . ground ends . I pause. whippinga round . time slows as the monster takes a step . a single breat. ground gives way. falling ,closer , closer . wings snap out . gliding-then flying. the warm sticky blood runs down my legs . i don’t care . I am free…. darkness hollow anger . blue to red to black . my eyes snap open – Revenge.
Early Tears
During my early years
Often spent trapped between walls
My eyes were always filled with tears
And no dad to catch me when I’d fall
While dads would hang out with their kids by the parkside
I’d be in my room watching from my window screen
Wishing to be like the kids on the outside
Trying not to let out an angry scream
My dad was never there
To share the joys or sadness
Which made me think no one cared
But his excuse was always “I have my own madness”
Thankfully I have a mom who’s extremely caring
And did more than just childbearing.
Screw You
Are you there? I don’t know. Where? I have held onto you, the concept of you, the sheer thought of finding you. Now I fear I have lost sleep over something that does not exist. I have been happy but the thought of you is lurking and you are perching and I’m pissed. I am independent and don’t need such thing as you to hold me down but I do or I may never come back to the ground. I am floating away and no one will ask me to stay. I’ve heard stories of you. The happy ones the sad heart wrenching and cold ones too. And with that, I am sorry but SCREW YOU! You have hurt the ones that don’t deserve it let them think they have been lucky enough to catch you but then you run away yelling “Ha, at you! Haha, you are such a fool.” How could you be so cruel?
I thought he was happy. He told me he would be kind. I thought we had both found you, felt you, but no. What a fool you let me be. What a fool I’ve been. Never again.
Sincerely a broken heart.
The Half and Half Tree
A meadow. Open to the world. And the tree, so ready to greet the others whom fear the grassy path. The wind, whipping through the leaves of the tree in the middle, so barren yet fruitful, as a line down it’s very core, stretching through the meadow, leaving one side ripe, with animals, and good fortune. As the ever watching knight approaches the sun, wrought with armor glowing silver in the setting light, protecting against the beast, with a gaze both pure and savage. The pacing panther, with a hide both black and white, and stripes to match, that writhe in unique patterns enticing to each side, watching the knight as he stares back. No contact, since they are never allowed to cross the line. They wait, passionate for the arrival of either their next victim, in the eyes of the cat, or the salvation, behind the shield of the knight. The wind changes form, caring not for either side of the field, only wanting someone new to come along, and end this standstill. And now the leaves crunch, as the expected visitor has come out from hiding from the fauna. So, what will your choice be?
Control
Surrounded by those who love me unconditionally, I wear a mountainous smile. Truly, I believe I am blessed. How is it that alone, I am hollow with only the emotions of sadness and despair? I sit by myself with only the solicitude for my thoughts as they are fearsome.
Is this normal?
Laughing hysterically all the time and being absolutely radiant is what I am known best for. That is not my reality according to my inner demons. The fearsome thoughts start off as questions
Am I good enough?
Am I funny enough?
Do I need to lose weight?
Is my body proportionate?
Am I annoying?
Can I be better in some way?
As I lay in the bath, I sink a little more and a little more as the water rises higher and higher. I go completely under and my thoughts just keep going on and on, I could take my own life right here and right now. For every prescription of medication I take, my thoughts continue on more because at any point in time, I could end it all. The real question is, do I want to? No, but knowing I can do something is comforting enough
cacciatore
Cacciatore is a project cooked up by the vision+voice team. So, what’s it all about?
First of all, it’s cacciatore: a hunter’s stew made by throwing things into a pot and letting them simmer.
Second, it’s ACC: a literary stew created only by ACC dual credit students.
And it’s CC: the Roman numeral for 200, as in, 200 words. That’s it. Your chance to tell the world what’s on your mind, in 200 words or less. Fiction, chicken, poetry, mushrooms, love-letter, tomatoes, raves, or rabbits: the pot holds 200 words. Your thing.
How does it work?
Submit your piece here, by March 26. We’ll review all the submissions and choose some to move forward to the next round.
In April, selected authors will be invited to a workshop with professors to polish and perfect their literary delicacy for the final round. From these finalists, our judges will pick the best for inclusion in here on cacciatore, our online literary magazine, and we’ll have a reception and author reading in May.
