Halos On The Grave

She could feel the veins of Earth pulsate in sync to her heartbeat. The grass was tender and blessed with desolation, the dew having recently ascended to heaven and the insects nonexistent at the moment due to the pleasant weather conditions. Oh the bugs here were a nightmare, only coming with the most unpleasant cycles of the weather. They would make this place their home, building their cities and wreaking havoc to whoever tried to find peace in this protruding obelisk called "Jacob's Ladder". Who would've thought the stairway to heaven would've been infected with this disease. The vast majority being the mosquitoes and ants, who came in their thousands. The bugs always intrigued Lauren though (She also hated them with a passion), because she found them to be so similar to humankind. Greedy, pretentious, apathetic to the greater good, and that was about all the adjectives she could think of at the time. Though she couldn't think to much because there was too many thoughts intermingling, getting to know each other, screwing, giving birth to newer thoughts, and eventually killing each other off. "This is great alright. Just great. Can't even think straight. Not even this stupid cliff can ease my mind like many others say it can. Arghh, why must people be so naive." Things seemed so transient, the clouds contorting to various shapes and contours. Such typicality. Now boiling with frustration and disappointment, she walked down, not as gracefully as she would usually. She stumbled and cursed, cursed and stumbled. Of course, who wouldn't, that trail was pretty rocky and being in that certain mental state, she wasn't apt to walk down with precision and care. She just went along with it, not minding those little contusions. "Whatever, let me bleed dry.", she thought. She did know she was overreacting and was expecting too much from the ladder. But she just went along with the motions, not really controlling her own body, much rather letting it go as it pleases. This pretty much continued throughout her walk home. She was a ghost to her neighbors but she didn't mind. The lakes on her arms began to overflow with ectoplasm, caused by the stone apparatuses that littered the ladder. But she didn't mind it either. She didn't mind the hellos, the how are you's, the good afternoons, the hey bitch's, the what the hells, the are you alrights and what have you. What she did mind was her mind. It was a constant war in there, machine gun fire amidst the sex and gestation going on. Who is the better thought; yes, that's what happened inside of her. Walking along the street, she didn't notice that the Crawford's had painted their house black and teal. She didn't notice the BBQ happening over at the Mallards. Naturally being vegetarian, she hated BBQ's but this didn't phase her either. She DID notice the dragonflies that zoomed through the air, suicidal tendencies running rampant but not sedated. Everyone was asleep; oh woe for the dragonflies! This she did notice and sympathize. Yet her body moved forward and her mind was still at war. The dragonflies were becoming desperate and began colliding into each other as Lauren reaches her house. She noticed her house. Only for a few seconds. Completely white, one story, typical American home. "It seems like the kind of house that someone would kill in. Really? Does it? You paranoid little bitch, you know this place is dull and a killer would probably end up conducting a symphony to his master plan first, THEN end up not doing anything at all besides fuck some whore down by St. Croix street. And the person he's planning to kill will be bored out of their minds WANTNG someone to kill them. Give them a thrill. What is wrong with you?! What is wrong with me?!" This all went through her mind as she entered the house, distraught and forlorn. Her parents were probably asleep, not caring as long as the peace was held and she didn't whine and cry to them. Not even the dog came to greet her. Oh life was good. The ectoplasm that was still leaking was also very charming. Gave everything a nice little touch, le piece de resistance! Walking straight to the bathroom, she stared into the mirror. Light skinned, with messy brown hair from all the attempts to morph it into something it wasn't, brown eyes and glasses . Her physique was slender and delicate, flowery seemingly yet it gives off the aura of fortitude. She was about 5'5 as well. But her physical appearance was something she wouldn't really care about. Opening the medicine cabinet, she looked around for some thing to cure her of this torment. She found nothing but kept on looking through till she smelled something. "Hmmm, what is that smell...Ack, it smells like a corpse. Did my dog vomit in here again?!" Closing the mirror, she saw that her throat was missing. It was if if removed by laser for there was no blood and the incision was fine and straight. It didn't even hurt. Everything shut off then and there, as if a nuke went off and everything was now at an absolute zero. The take over happened again and she was at peace. "It's like gliding across nothingness but....there is stuff here. Wait. What is nothingness? It's impossible to..." and it went on again sadly. It continued up until she was standing in the middle of the street when she realized where she was and that a car was about 10 inches away. Things flashed. No not her life. She has never lived. So what was there to flash back to? The impact didn't necessarly hurt, it was more like she was being pressured against a wall for a bit then she hit the ground and all nerves were severed and she fell into an ocean. She lied face up and breathed with what remained of her lungs. Her throat, the open grave, allowed her a few more moments of breath. "Suffering is essential for a human being to develop. though it, happiness can be obtained." The suffering, like broken down lotus blossoms, float gracefully in this ocean." As she closed her eyes, a butterfly peaked out of the crevice in her throat and flew away. She only caught a brief glimpse before everything faded to black.


The ringing could only be ignored to a certain point. How she wished she didn't have to react to it, just let it ring until it died out. But she knew what her responsibilities were and the sad truth was that they had to be accepted. With eyes half open and her mind not really there, she turned and faced her tormentor. The adolescents worst nightmare, the alarm clock to another day of school. Many times, she wished she could take the damned thing and shatter it so she can fall back to that comfortable slumber. The clock was like a signal that let you know, "Today will be another day of misery. Isn't it grand?". Being extremely cranky this morning, she said, "You wouldn't be so cocky if I had my way you stupid clock. At least I can turn you off whenever I want!" And being the passive person she was, she usually stored emotion in her until she just let it out in one explosive tour de force. Today it was directed to the clock when she slammed her hand down on it. "Whoops! Ahhhhh, no no no my mom is going to kill me! Got to hide it, got to hide it..." Knowing her mother always made routine check of her room, she put it in her bag and concluded she'd take it to school and dispose of it there. "I think the second floor bathroom would be a fine place, no one really goes there. Or I can just give it to Bianca. She is into that sort of thing. Maybe see the clock as a symbol for how she has no time for anything or some crap. Heheh, she's so silly." After changing she looked at herself in the mirror. She was 5'5 in stature, had the body of a model, straight black hair with blonde streaks that fell to her shoulders. Her face was composed of freckles, a nose she was self conscious about, and had brown eyes with a strange tint of gold when hit by the light. After cleaning herself up and collecting her things, she ran for the door and left the house. She feared her mother waking up and making her eat breakfast which usually made her want to throw up. She hated how people thought she didn't eat breakfast because she was anorexic. But being the way she was, she didn't tell them to stop. She wouldn't dare to unless she had one of her explosive episodes. Walking through St. Croix street, she noticed the road was a bit darker than usual in one spot. Specifically in the patch in front of Lauren's house. "Guess it must be a shadow or something." So she walked all the way to school, entered and did the normal teenager thing. Socialize and attempt apathy. They talked about trivial things, like who had sex last weekend, who's party was cooler, or attempt at the art of an actual conversation. This would usually fail. They would chat about their pet parrots or snakes, their dinner with the family at Texas De Brazil, or about how they wished they could be better writers. Everyone was a writer nowadays. So that was why Janell never truly talked to anyone but Bianca or Lauren. Those two could actually hold their own as people and socializers without looking like idiots. But both were missing from the usual spot they sat at. "This is weird. they would've called me if they were going to be somewhere else or something. Ahhhh, I don't want to be alone with this losers!" But she just thought this. She smiled and received the hello's from everyone she was "friends" with. "Man, where can those two be?? Gah, I'll just throw this clock away. It's making my bookbag heavy." So she began ascending the stairs to the bathroom; she hated it because it was rumored that a kid died here and a bunch of other silly urban legends. She takes out the clock and it began to ring when she got to the door. “And it isn’t even connected…what kind of demonic clock is this?!!” She then heard crying and knew it was from the bathroom. Adrenaline triggered and she ran towards the wailing, not caring about the demonic clock in her hands for she knew who it was that was singing those notes of sorrow; excessive nor epinephrine. She found Bianca lying on the floor of the bathroom, surrounded by the filth of the school. Crying and looking at the clock. "Get that fucking thing away from me! It's evil, let it go!" She then fell silent and looked at the sky. "Where has the roof gone?!" Janell screamed. And bathroom began to quake in verbatim. "What the hell is going on?! Oh my God, help me. Help me! Bianca, what the hell are you doing?!” Staring at the capsule, she realized there weren’t pills inside but instead a swarm of dragonflies. Distraught, she began staggering towards Bianca, who was beginning to convulse and twist, still crying, "Lauren! You god damn bugs! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Janell cried amidst the rapture of the insects, the rapture of the surreal. She was flung from the bathroom and only saw Bianca slowly lie down into oblivion, surrounded by the sulfuric atmosphere of the 2nd floor bathroom.

“Where am I…?”, said Bianca as she awoke from her slumber. What responded were the sounds of batting eyelids and moving parasites, slithering, crashing, whispering eldritch and archaic secrets humanity could only dream of having. Bianca got up and looked around. A park. How quaint; she Loved them so much. Too bad there was no sky to accompany it. Only darkness. But the grass was there, shining neon green and stretching as far as her eyes could see. To her right was a single line of pavement that ran along to what I guess she could call a horizon. There was also a bench sitting there as if it were waiting there for her. To her left was a single solitary mountain and next to it a graveyard. “What is this place? What am I doing here. Purpose? There is no purpose it seems. Might as well go with the flow right Bianca? Right.” So she walked towards the mountain because she basically liked how mountains smelled. Back home, she was known for those strange attributes and she very much enjoyed that sort of reputation. She liked walking around, saying inside jokes around people knowing this confused them and made them think they’re not in on something they should. Things like, “Man, you’re such a sushi roll.” Or “Yes, I’d like a steak with that coke” were one of the few things she’d invent in order to keep herself busy. Of course though, she was also very popular with people because of her optimistic attitude. Then again, people didn’t know that she was way too sensitive for her own good. It was a secret she liked to keep locked away in the cage inside her head. She thought about this as she walked to the mountain. Now realizing she was a foot away from it, she raised her vision to the darkness. It reminded her of Mt. Everest, colossal and radiating with a seductive danger. It dares her to climb and risk her life, knowing anyone attempting to climb her will wither away before ever reaching the top. She was scared of it. “What’s up with this piece of shit rock? There’s something freaky about it. Bro, Bianca, calm down. It’s not like it’s alive or anything.”
She noticed a figure falling down. “What the…” she began to scream but was stopped short by the crash. She began to wonder what had fallen until she was completely shut off by the figure which rose. It was Henry, one of the kids from her school. “How random is this. Seeing Henry falling from a mountain and not having a scratch on him.” She thought. “Oh, you think this was impossible?” said Henry. “What?! How does he know what I…” “Of course I know what you’re saying you noob, everything here is possible.” Flabbergasted, she stuttered, “ H-H-How did that ha-a-a-appen? IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” Henry laughed for a little bit, and actually, it filled Bianca with a sort of warmth. “Impossible is just a word. A state of mind. It's an opinion made by weak people who give up on things they give absolutely give no effort on. Impossible is vacant and illusionary. Go to the graveyard. I think Johnny wants to see you.” With that he was off in a flash and left Bianca alone. She had lost some emotion alright. But she supposed it was for the better. She expected to cry or something. Guess not. She strolled into the graveyard, smelling the mix of the incense and the graveyard itself. Oh how she delighted in it. A procession of dead. She found it rather sad but this made her feel more alive in a sense. Yes, that seemed to work for her. “Hmmm, is that Johnny over there?” And it was. Standing in the middle of a circle of tombstones stood Johnny, a boy who had died last year after falling off Jacob’s Ladder. It was tragic to the whole town but not to her. She didn’t even really know the kid. But there he was, carrying what seemed to be a hacksaw and a void like stare. She walked towards him and said, “Hello? You’re Johnny right?” And the melody began. “ Don’t you ever stop to think about how you’re connected to everyone somehow? That it isn’t only you that has a brain. Come to think about it, you should stop being so selfish as to not care about the death of someone you know. But I guess that’s the human in you and since I am now dead, I’ve become enlightened with various principles.” Bianca was in shock. “Who the hell are you to say that? Some cocky ass kid who knows nothing that he talks about?! You think because you’re dead, you’re immediately at a higher power than I am?? You’re full of it Johnny! I hate you!” Johnny just smiled, “Then kill me now if you hate me.” He glances at the hacksaw for a bit and then throws it to Bianca. “Hate is a word that connotates to the wanting of the end of the hated persons life. So if you hate me, you should kill me. Isn’t that what you’d want? Give it a try and hate yourself. Fix yourself. Those hands itch for blood. So find a way to fix that problem. As for me, I’ll go back to my grave, where people know the day I died and how, not my name nor what I did for people.” And so he ran off, leaving Bianca with only the saw in her hand. Her hands were in fact itching to kill him. “What the. Oh my god. Oh my god. Stop it! I don’t want to kill him! But I hate him so! Ahhhh! These hands, these hands, these dirty hands. I’m just like Eve! These will be the hands that’ll be the downfall of humankind!” Seeing no other resort and remembering Henry’s words, “Impossible is just a word. A state of mind. It's an opinion made by weak people who give up on things they give absolutely give no effort on. Impossible is vacant and illusionary.” And with that, she began to hack away at her hands. How she screamed and cursed and everything around her, maybe even the dead, began to sing a song. It was Miranda, That Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore. She remembered the lyrics and everything.
I’ve always wanted
To eat glass with you again
But I never knew how
How to talk without
Walls dropping on the eve
The nest they made couldn’t break you
Along the fallen
Scowled a fence of beaks
But the temple is scathing
Through your veins
They were scaling
Through an ice pick of abscess reckoning

And when Miranda sang
Everyone turned away
Used to the noose they obey

And whoever said that they would scatter
Separating the mother from child
She can bat a broken eyelid
Raining maggots from it’s sty
And with the traces that she leaves
She will skin you out alive

All the children go grinding their jaws
The sweet smell of their toothless canals
And the damn she will break,
Make an ocean from this lake
As they siphon off all our blood

And when Miranda sang
Everyone turned away
Used to the noose they obey

“And wh-hen Mi-i-iranda sang…”. It seemed trying to sing along didn’t help out with the process. In the end, she saw her severed hands on the floor and from both stumps where the wrists began, the dragonflies spewed out and into the sky. It was an ethereal sight, one that she’d never forget. She still looked and realized something was still in there. It was a butterfly. It had black wings and a white body, so when it flew away from the luminescent scenery, it seemed that it was only composed of a body. “It’s….delicate…” She didn’t bleed anything but she felt something splash against her shirt every time she moved. She followed the butterfly to bench and there to meet it was Lauren. She was still like she remembered her, before she found her sprawled on her driveway, without a throat, and a yellow phantom like butterfly hovering over her. And it followed her, just like the dragonflies did, when she hid her body so she could tell the police where she was after she found out what happened. “She seems so peaceful. Why is she so peaceful?! I’m suffering here, for her! And all she does is smile?? Why?!” The smile still lingered as Lauren spoke, “Let me tell you why. Because you’re here. And I’m still living. Just like you are still living. We are existing, so therefore, there is purpose. I’m here with you, one of my best friends. In solitude, yes, but I’m still accompanied and know that our time is about to come.” Bianca didn’t say anything at all and for a moment, instead of Lauren she saw herself. The brown hair with blond highlights, the delicate stature, her brown eyes and perplexed look. She reverted back to her normal self just as quick and Lauren’s face was now calm. “You cut your hands because you felt the urge to kill was too great and that you would be ostracized for it. Realize though that at least you had the will power to resist it. Everyone goes through a motion of complete malice and some progress and some wind up killing their mothers or fathers. Look at it as if you had the will to power yourself up and remove the sin in you. What’s left is weak but it has much potential. The suffering will allow you to appreciate your integrity and your very being. Maybe for the first time ever. Maybe. Being here does things like this you. Makes you smarter than you truly appear. I guess it’s the loneliness you know.” Bianca looked down and realized she had her hands back. They seemed so foreign to her, but she was glad to have them back. Turning to Lauren she said, “I think we should go back. Can we? I’m pretty sure Janell is worried sick.” “She probably is. Yes…let’s go” Lauren replied. And so they left, leaving the dragonflies in their pit of masochism, their hell, waiting for the next time they could go out again. But in the end, only one ever did truly wake up. And the other lived on in the same life she’s always lead. And plagues encase Jacob’s Ladder once more, with the cycle only morphing, but never changing.