The Unholy Harlot

She was a clever girl.  But lost and succumbed to the darkness inside her.

On the outside a shining smile, true Angelic being who lived to love.

Inside asking the mirror, “Am I beautiful?  Am I usuable?”

Undercover of darkness, she gave others the boost they needed to make it to the next day.  Dark silent deeds only Night could comprehend.

A toy.  A play thing.  Lovely enough to tarnish, ugly enough to hate.

Recklessly giving into the desires.  Recklessly bound to others, giving them what they wished as they wished it.

She was a broken, frustrated shard of glass.  Her sins innumerable to count.

Somehow undesired by all who would treat her right, twisted and broken – settling for less.  Always so much less.

The Perfect One never came.  He never rescued her from the tower.  The dragon was destroyed, but the castle remained in ruins.  Never to be lit up.

A perfect little church girl.  Mary’s twisted unholy little Lamb.  All the answers on the tip of her tongue.  The perfect Youth Pastor protege.

Eyes, sullen, dark, outlined in shame.  Afraid to cut, afraid to bleed.  Wishing the inside would finally die like her black soul.

It wasn’t that she was evil.  Tainted?  Indeed.  Abandoned to play in her own imagination.  Creating beautiful things outside the confines of Reality.

Playing night and day, learning how to grow up.  Inside wishing she could just die.  Death must be better than all this.  Jesus loved her even if the others didn’t, yes?

Selfish, all desiring the same thing.  Giving it away to them one by one.  But only to a point.  The perfect tease.  The perfect wish. Just a taste to keep them interested, until finally she was cast aside.

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It Starts With A Step

Standing in the middle of the room, the walls seem as though they’re closing in.
The door is cracked open, light gently peering in.  Not enough to cause the darkness to flee.  Only just enough to remind there is light on the other side.

It only takes a few short steps to get to the door.  To enter the hallway and be washed in that light.  And yet, we hesitate.

The raging emotions, terrifying us.  Anxiety taking our breath away.

What’s in the hallway?  Will it kill us?
Will it attack?  Will it hate us?

Alone we continue to suffocate in the darkness.

It drives us insane.  Wanting out, wanting to stay.  Wanting to be free, wanting to stay hidden in the darkness.
Will you choose Freedom?

It only takes a step.  One little step at a time to conquer the darkness.
Freedom begins when you let yourself move.  When you take that first step toward change.

Static Electricty

An Ode to Static Electricity
((Sung in a punk rock style))

Dear static electricity
Please let go of me
I wasn’t in the vicinity
But you stuck plastic on my hand

And now I’m wondering
Why you’re hooked on me
I’m like a submarine
With a healthy fear of land

Chorus
Shockingly I run into you, sets my hair on end
I don’t have a need for the negativity you send
Get over yourself, my dear, you wont phase my heart
I’ll be leaving when I can finally pull my clothes apart

I can’t appreciate this shocking force
You’re grabbing for me from the floor
I’m positive we need a divorce
It’s so dry, it’s too worn, you don’t understand

The lightning strike was just too much
Is there anything you wont touch?
Someone get me some glass
I wont allow you to conduct a spark
You’re attacking me alone in the dark
Eventually this too shall pass

Chorus

And now I’ve charged my heart to someone else
I’m positive you’ll get over it before too long
Honestly I never felt the spark kindle for myself
Maybe if you didn’t conduct yourself so wrong
I might have chosen to let you light up my heart
Frankly some days I miss your spark

The Ranger Of Severum: Episode 6

The day had started like any other. Boring, drab, with the threat of rain. But it was a special day. The Rangers were returning from Pelivain. It meant his father would be home again.

Trillian watched out the window at the gates, his young heart beating with anticipation and longing.

“Trillian.” The beautiful voice of his mother sung out to him.

The boy reluctantly pushed off of the window and hurried out of his room to find her.

Her voice continued to stretch through the halls calling out, “Trillian? Trillian where are you?”

“I’m coming, mother, I’m coming.” He tried to follow the sounds of the echoes. Each of the rooms that she usually kept to were empty, and the sound of her voice was getting further and further away, “Mother?” He shouted desperately. The beat of his heart quickened as Trillian left the east wing of the Severum, “Mother?” He continued to call nervously, now aware that he was quickly going to be someplace he wasn’t allowed to go.

Sideon, the Master of the Rangers of Severum, walked out of the library looking for Trillian.

“There you are boy.” His tone was gentle, as though beckoning Trillian to him, “Your mother is here, child.”

The little boy was frightened of Sideon, the Master behaved like a good man, but Trillian knew better. His mother had been called away to see Sideon, coming back crying one too many times. Trillian was right to fear him, and deep in his heart he hated the man for making his mother cry.

In slow, heavy steps, as though his feet were weighted with lead, Trillian moved toward Sideon, not at all trusting the man. The only sound he could hear was his racing heart, as his stomach churned violently.

Sideon held his arm outstretched towards the library door.  The boy continued in his fearful steps, reluctant to see what was behind the door.

Indeed, his mother stood there. Her arms crossed and her eyes seeming sad. She appeared to be unharmed, but the little boy could tell something was wrong.

“Trillian.” She exclaimed, opening her arms to him.

The boy ran eagerly into his mothers embrace, “What? What is it mother?” He asked, trying to swallow the lump gathering in his throat from fear.

She released him, kneeling down to look into his eyes, “Trillian, you father—” She hesitated. Her bright blue eyes looking past Trillian’s to Sideon. “Your father,” she started again, “is—”

Trillian’s eyes stretched open wide fearing what her hesitation meant, “He’s what?” He begged, “He’s what, mother?”

“Now Trillian, you must be brave.” He heard Sideon say, “Your mother is going to need you to be brave for her, because she can’t do it alone.”

“What is it mother?” Little Trillian shouted.

She smiled softly, “He’s not coming home.” The smile fell and her eyes blinked out tears.

“You’re lying.” Trillian started shaking, “You’re lying!” He shouted. “He promised he would be back, and he never breaks his promises.”

“No, Trillian. He doesn’t. Your father never breaks his promises.” His mother’s tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and her lip trembled, “But sometimes, things can happen. And these things cause people to break promises without meaning to.”

“What she means child, is that your father is dead.”

As though a spike were shoved through Trillian’s chest, the boy turned and violently shouted at Sideon, “You killed him. You did this!” Heaving several times, with tears spilling down his cheeks, Trillian ran from the room.

While the boy ran, the floor seemed to swell and blur from under his feet, the stone halls of the Severum shifting into a dark forest.

Just ahead of him, a group of rangers were huddled around something lying on the ground.

Approaching softly, the little boy heard one of them say the man was gone, it was no use. He was dead.

The figures wavered for a moment before disappearing altogether, but the body was still there, lying on the ground.

The boy trembled uncontrollably, weeping as he approached, knowing who it was before he even got there.

“Father?” Trillian walked in hesitant steps toward the body. He had never seen a corpse before, and the graying skin frightened him. He continued to weep, his mind desperately tried to divert his eyes.

 

Trillian awoke with a start, sitting up quickly. His breath hissed through his teeth as he choked back the lump growing in his throat. Running his hands through his long dark hair, hanging loose about his shoulders, he shook his head several times, as though trying to clear out the darkness and clinging emotions lingering from the nightmare.

He always woke at the same moment. Always just before he had the opportunity to see his father’s cold, dark eyes, staring at the sky. Always before he had the chance to know what his father looked like at the moment of his passing. Always just short of coming to peace with the fact that his father was gone.

It had been said that his father died in the skirmishes they encountered with the druids. Trillian, however, suspected that he was murdered.

Sideon was deeply attracted to Trillian’s mother, and whenever his father left, the Master would lure her away for hours at a time. It did not take long after his fathers death for Sideon to offer marriage to his mother. Before he knew it, they wed, moved into Sideon’s wing of the Severum, and Trillian was immediately forsaken by all of his peers.

The awareness of his healing wings came to mind, as a cramp that had built from the way he had to sleep started to spread through his side. They had moved his bed from the wall in order to situate a sort of hammock next to the bed, so Trillian could rest his wings onto it while he slept. This took the strain off of his back, giving him room to relax. In the beginning it took help to figure out, but now he was able to manage himself, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about it very much longer.

It had been three weeks since the injury. A smile tugged on his lips, three weeks since he had met Yulissa. Although there hadn’t been opportunity to see her since their meeting, he couldn’t help remembering the way her hands felt on his back. When the surgeon had finished putting him back together, Trillian had decided he much preferred Yulissa’s gentle, delicate way of attention. She did not cause more pain in the process. Though, he was quite glad they would be healing properly.

Trillian was plagued by the nightmare and wasn’t sure if he could go back to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out and touched the lamp wick catching it aflame.

Massaging his side, attempting to bend the other direction to stretch it out. With his wings, this proved difficult, but with enough adjusting and shifting, he was able to find a comfortable position to relax in.

He sat back again, rubbing his brow. Morning wasn’t for a few more hours. Maybe after breakfast he would check in on the woman. He found himself strangely curious to know how she was doing. At least she took his mind off of the nightmare. For now.

Death In The Family

I am part of the vast population who had a disconnected family.  While my immediate family was pretty well knit, and my siblings and I continue to get along as Family should, the extensions each had their own set of issues.

It was already stated that I didn’t particularly care for my grandmother.  Even now, in bitterness, I glance at her pictures around the house and still resent her.

It’s been a long month+ in Ohio, I had to call and reschedule my dr’s appointment for this week, because we’re not done here yet.  So many things haven’t happened the way they needed to, and here I am.  Still.
The snow has finally come to an end, but the sun barely shines, aiding unto the melancholic chill wrapped inside my heart.  Each morning, I arise to the same thing.  Each night I go down hoping to leave soon.

Uncertainty gives way to insecurity, which can lend to a plague of further negative emotion, swirling furiously within the mind.
Each step I have taken for almost a year is laced with uncertainty.
Where will we live? Where will you work? Where will we have financial security?
And now, as the months close in between a cloudy future and the baby being born, I wrestle these anxious concerns alongside my frustrations with still being in Ohio.
My path of ventilation has been to harbor continued anger with my Grandmother. For what she was not, what she never would be. Who she chose to be. What she chose not to be.
All I have lost is $40 a year in holiday checks. What made the emotion furrow even deeper was the way the Pastor spoke at her memorial service.
When nobody has a clue what is suffered on the inside of a unit, what else are they to speak of beyond the Hope of Salvation?
Each of the viewpoints were nice, but he did not have the slightest idea how off he was. What can you do, sitting in silent reverence? What do you say afterward?
Cloudy, my heart remains. Our world was already upside-down before she died. Now I feel as though I’m trapped in a snowglobe.
Yes, we’re finally in the third trimester and wanting a place for the baby to be that is properly set up, belonging solely to her, is also a high concern. But I just don’t know what is going to happen this summer.

On a positive note:
My pursuit to become an author strengthens as I open myself to the things I was made to do, and it is quite rewarding.
I hope to continue this pursuit very soon- as my writing has also been affected by this series of misfortunate events.
I hope Spring finds the rest of you in better, warmer places.

“….and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those that sin against us….”

There is only one person in this world I have ever really “hated.”
When I first experienced this new emotion, I was riding home with my sister Anna on the last rainy Tuesday in December 2010.
With bittersweet malice I asked, “Anna, can you avoid someone in heaven?”
Half a second later, the only bolt of lightning that winter shower produced shot across the sky.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Anna replies tentatively, “Dana, don’t say that again. The next one hits the car.”

You can’t fully grasp the concept of “strongly disliking” a person until you’ve been deeply wounded by someone you cared about.
Not just deeply wounded, but they struck you EXACTLY where it would hurt most.

The reason why Hate is so seducing is because it gives you a false sense of power.
The flavor of hate is like a fine wine.
To hate is to replace vulnerable pain with choking anger.
To fester in hate is to pride yourself into believing that somehow you have been made the victim and they don’t deserve anything good.
But like too much wine, it can become intoxicating.

It’s a dark, dreary, black hole that eats away at joy, life, love and peace.
It hurts your ability to love others, and ultimately, the ability to trust God.

The longer you let a worm live in an apple, the more it will eat away at the sweet, juicy insides.
You don’t realize how bad the damage is until the smell of rotting flesh overpowers your thoughts.
Where once was Life, there remains a dead leathery shell, drying stem and loose seeds.
Seeds. The cradle of life. A chance to start over.

God makes all things good, right? Look at the creation story. The only thing wrong with Creation-was Adam’s loneliness!

Why is it so hard to forgive?
I’ll tell you why.
Forgiveness relinquishes our fallible security in power, pride, and arrogance. It forces us to be vulnerable to hurting all over again.
But, like those seeds in the core of a dead and empty apple, God desires to plant in our lives the amazing ability to Overcome and become a New Creation.

If God created us for Fellowship, both with Him first-since obviously He was all Adam had until Eve was created, which essentially makes others second, then why should we let hate seperate us from each other?
Hate can make you lose trust in everyone. It hurts your Fellowship with believers, and your ability to witness to non-believers. Sometimes it isn’t intentional, but when you fester in hate, somewhere along the way something will trigger the pain you try to ignore, and you’ll react. You probably wont even necessarily mean to! Either way, your reaction will affect everyone around you.

Your ugly, infected scab will tear open, and before you can stop it, it will bleed. All of your pent-up anger and grief will ooze out of you until
a) you gain the composure to stop it
b) you’ve sobbed until the tears run dry
c) depression consumes you and you hide away from everyone
or d) you’ve chewed everyone and their dog out.
You wont be able to understand yourself until the blood clots again.
Forgiveness washes over you like a flood.
When you beg God to remove a piece of you you don’t like, He does. And His grace is overwhelming.
When you ask to make amends with someone close to you, peace is restored. Trust might not be replaced right away, but you know deep inside that your chance to prove yourself worthy of /their/ forgiveness is available at your earliest convenience-and something inside jumps for JOY at the thought, even through the fear that you might fail again, you are relieved to know you have a second chance.

So if you know what it’s like to be forgiven of a sin that was gnawing at you — why would you rob someone else of that joy?
Jesus said to pray for God’s Will, His Lordship, His provision, His forgiveness and His strength, because He controls and manifests in everything in creation.
“Our Father who lives in Heaven, your name is Holy. Bring Your Kingdom, as Your Will is done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread, and forgive us for our sins as we forgive those who sin against us, for YOURS is the Kingdom, YOURS is the honor, and YOURS is the glory, now and forever, Amen.”
I hear the Spirit gently convict me of my sin of hate, God whispers gently, “How can I forgive you, if you wont forgive him?”
In my heart, I know I can’t Fellowship with the Father while I marvel in vengeance and pray a thousand times a week that I could avoid this /one/ person for the whole of eternity.

Back in January 2011, God gave me the chance to give this person a moment to talk to me. He wasn’t very good at getting his lame apology across to me, and then blew his one opportunity to ever talk to me again.
Looking at my reactions to it after the fact, I probably wouldn’t talk to me again either.
When God said, “He’s going to contact you. Be nice.” I laughed.
God knew I wouldn’t and made a POINT to tell me what He expected of me.

Jesus expects all of us to forgive each other, no matter how much it costs us. It cost Him nails through his wrists, ounces of blood, absolute isolation and separation from God when he needed Him most, and a brief moment of eternity in hell in order to conquer Death.

What do you have to do to forgive? How much will it really cost you?

For me-only my pride.

‎……..but what’s that worth anyway? 🙂