The Silent Song

She sat soft in a quiet room,
With nothing but her thoughts.
On her brow a weighty crown,
To matched her weighted heart.

She lived along a silent voice,
Who followed her step for step.
One by one the voice would take,
Til only one held dear was left.

She hid herself so far away,
Where the voice was sure to chase her.
Of those she loved she sought to hide,
Though she feared she moved too late.

She raised her head to the open door,
Whence came the fateful news.
Only she could hear the voice,
Tears shed to cover silent mockery.

She watched with sorrow as the fire grew,
Wept for those she’d loved and lost.
Over her cries the voice spoke still,
Truth echoed in its everlasting harmony.



Inspired by a writing prompt from Writing Prompt Generator.

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Balance

She stared up at the sky, taking in a stars glittering above her. The cool summer breeze brushed across her skin, and she shivered. It was a marked contrast to the heat of the day, but that was why she loved it. She took a breath, relishing the scent of the evening air. It smelled like the earth, like plants, and it held a crispness that only cool air has, married with the sweet smell of rain, just beyond her reach. The smoke from a campfire nearby drifted past, bringing all four elements together in one smell. Maybe that was why she cherished evenings outside, she thought. It often brought together the four elements, it brought balance in a world so regularly off-kilter.

She listened to the rustling of the trees, tracking the movement of the wind by which trees she heard whispering to her. The cry of birds echoed softly, and crickets chirped in the grass. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds and smells and sensations wash over her. This was when she felt most connected to the world, most at peace. Standing outside at dusk, or just after nightfall, as her world went to sleep and another woke up. She felt a stillness at this time, her heart felt full. She could wash away her day, her life, her mind, and just be, just enjoy the experience of existing without other thoughts cluttering her brain.

It was a beautiful feeling, but also a painful one. It caused her to want more from her life. She wanted to feel this way more, she wanted to share this feeling with someone who would understand it, understand her. The longing hit her hard. And part of her wanted to tear away, to go back inside, to escape the pleasure-pain. To forget that this is what she wanted, because she feared she would never get it. But she tried to quiet her mind, to let the hurt and the joy move through her equally. Without one, there can’t really be the other, right?



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

For the Love of Garlic Bread

“So,” Cody said, stabbing a meatball with her fork, “how was your day?”

Lexi glared at her over a wineglass.

“What?” Cody asked, her mouth full.

“First of all,” Lexi said, twirling pasta around her fork, “don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross. And second,” she continued, ignoring Cody’s grin, “I thought we agreed not to talk about work over dinner?”

“Work?” Cody asked, a sly smile crossing her face. “Who said anything about work? I was wondering about a certain someone we both know.”

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9 Sucky Signs You’re an Empath

1. You are exhausted all the freaking time.

You constantly feel tired, drained, lacking energy. You have to deal with your own emotions every day, plus the emotions of the people you live with, your neighbors, coworkers, people you pass on the street, people on the Internet, people who are prominent public figures, everyone. And all that energy, all that emotion, just sucks any drive or momentum you might have had right out of you.


2. You know things about people.

And never the people you want to know about. You might not be able to read your crush, or your boss, or your friend, but that guy on the bus? That kid from class? The politician on TV? You can figure out their whole life story, just from watching them, feeling their energy, seeing how they react to the world around them. Which leads to…

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Sometimes

Sometimes we are our own worst enemies,
Building up walls of self-doubt,
Self-hatred,
Self-pity,
Until
Something brings them tumbling down.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Survival

She closed her eyes, teeth clenched together, her breathing shallow. She needed to calm down, to push the writhing energy inside her down, down, down, until it couldn’t hurt anyone else. She needed to be calm, cool, a fixed point. Not the storm.

She felt her heart thudding in her chest, much too quickly. She felt a buzzing in her head, like it was going to fly away from her body, from the feelings clogging her chest. That tight feeling gripping her heart, her lungs, crawling up her throat and pressing against her lips.

She would not break. She would not unleash her energy into an already overflowing world. She took a deep breath, then another. Breath first. She ignored the voice in her mind telling her to throw, break, scream into the world until it heard her. There was no use; she couldn’t change the world, even if her throat was raw from yelling and her muscles weak from breaking.

She squashed her anger, her pain, her grief, her frustration, her joy, her love, her happiness. She would be numb. She would be still. She would not feel. That is how she would survive.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Slumber Party Surprises

“Are you sure you girls don’t need anything?”

“We’re fine, Mom!” Emily groaned, waving her hands at the door.

“Well, just let me know if you want anything!” her mother chirped, and she gently closed the bedroom door.

“Ugh,” Emily sighed, shaking her head. “Why can’t she get the hint? We’re thirteen, she doesn’t need to hover.”

“Uh-huh,” Addison muttered, flipping through her phone.

“I think she was just trying to be nice,” Nevaeh offered, and she flinched slightly as Emily glared at her.

Riley said nothing. She stared around the room, her eyes taking in the queen-sized bed, the fancy computer, the mountain of stuffed animals.

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The Ever-Seeking Mariner

I set sail so long ago,
Out on the dreamy sea.
To seek the far off distant shores,
That have always called to me.

I feel the wind tug at my hair,
And make the rigging dance.
I taste the spray cool on my skin,
As I survey the wide expanse.

I know those islands exist out there,
I see them through the mist.
But no matter how far I go,
I seem to always miss.

I wonder what truths I could find,
On those secluded beaches.
But maybe I’m not meant to know,
Like the old man teaches.

Maybe it’s enough for me,
To sail around and stare.
To know the islands there are real,
Just not for me to share.



Inspired by Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (Chapter III)

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

The Ties that Break

“B-Blair?” Maeve’s voice shook as she stared down the barrel of a pistol.

“Surprise,” Blair said, smirking.

“I-I don’t understand,” Maeve stammered. “What are you d-doing? I thought-”

Blair sneered. “You thought, what, that you could trust me? That we were on the same side?”

Maeve nodded weakly, and Blair laughed.

“Whatever made you think that?”

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