You, Me, and our Creative Writing

If I could see you, just one more time.

Why I would be free, I could be fine.

The rain does come down,

Ferocious and wild.

Banging  the heart of this forgotten child.

And the memories come flooding back, like bugs in the rain.

Pulling me with them, into a different place.

Remember that time when we danced in the rain? With the football game’s lights hitting our backs, expanding our shadows out into the street.

                The cars swooshed past us, spitting out steam; so that all I could see was you, and all you could see was me.

                I’ll never forget your big, brown eyes staring back at me. I wanted to kiss you. Your lips looked so red. I wanted to wrap my arms around your waist and push your forehead against mine.  Your scent inched me closer, almost to the edge. I was a sucker for strawberry perfume.

                I remember when I was little, my mom would put it on all the time. Strawberry perfume I mean. Hey, isn’t that strange? That my mother’s favorite scent led me to you?

                I wanted to kiss you. But my ancient fears from a life I’d thought I’d left behind, sprouted out from my heart and tied me to the ground.

                Those kids who made fun of me from years ago, stood behind you with hungry eyes. They chanted, “weirdo! Devil! Freak!”. They made me feel like 8 year old me.

                And so the serene scene that you and I had sustained wilted and died. And in its place was my old balcony. The flower pots were smashed and crumbled papers littered the floor. And there was eight year old me, tiptoeing atop the balcony, ready to plunge into the ground.

                In my fear I lost sight of you. And the moment in the rain passed. So that I stood alone, on an empty field, with bits of bug crushed beneath my feet.

On my morning stroll across Everwood, I came upon a bag of bones. Nestled safe amidst a great oak’s roots, it had “Evelyn” inscribed in velvet pen.

            Though my heart did fall, and my mind did race; I tiptoed towards Evelyn’s remains.

            But as I grew closer, and as the morning breeze puffed harder, the trash bag, white in its entirety cept for the velvet writing, began to dance. Sheepishly at first, almost like a child, it poked out its foot into the air, as if testing the waters. Then its long, brooding arms twisted and rose and fell.

            Frightened, I must have looked in my pink sun dress, when the ravens of Everwood did begin to crow. In murders they fell upon the great oak, the same oak in which, further down below, Evelyn’s bag of bones did rest.

            And in sure unity, as it so must have been, did the trees of Everwood begin to sway and shuffle their leaves down onto the mossy forest floor.

            My screams were drowned out in a Devil’s symphony. A potpourri of devilish screams and rustling leaves. I tried to move my feet at an attempt to escape, but the great oak’s roots fell upon me. They enwrapped me in wood, and thrust me into the air, so that I was much like a sinner ready to be hung.

            The roots cut deeply into my skin, and the blood stained my pink sundress. The sweet smell of my blood must have been intoxicating, because various wood creatures had begun to appear. A cantaloupe, with wicked horns, and scarlet eyes, climbed up the roots and pressed his lips against mine.

            Then all became quiet. So that all that could be heard was my sorrow sobbing.

            The bag of bones stopped dancing. It drifted like a cloud up the roots until it reached my bloody corpse. The velvet letters stricken upon its chest began to move and form menacing jaws.

            “Is your name, Evelyn?” it croaked.

            I let out a moan.

            “Evelyn,” it repeated. And then the crows and the Cantaloupe, and the devil himself, began to chant Evelyn.

            I began to convulse and my skin churned pearl white. I could not move my lips, so I watched in silent horror as the murder came upon me and devoured my skin.

            In moments, I was nothing more than a skeleton dressed up in a bloody sundress. Then, as you could probably guess, the bag with jaws swallowed what was left of me, so that I was little more, than a bag of bones, with the name Evelyn inscribed in velvet pen.