Category Archives: Fairy Tales

An Epic Duet: The Beautiful, the Bad and the Psychotic – Part 6 (Final)


Part 6 and final of the duet poem I wrote with my friend Just Patty!

No, no, not the final poem we are going to write together! Hell no! 🙂

I meant the final in this particular series!

To read the previous parts, check out:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I highly recommend you check out her blog, if you haven’t already because Patty is an awesome writer!–> http://petitemagique.wordpress.com/

Enjoy this final part of our insanely long duet!

Patty, keep your pen busy!

Great poet

Great poet

New me

 

Alex –> https://youngadultfictionblog.com/

Just Patty–>http://petitemagique.wordpress.com/

The Beautiful, the Bad and the Psychotic

Part 6 Final

Alex & Just Patty

I’m a volcano ticking time-bomb,

A tsunami riptide so hang on,

I can solidify your soul with my eyes,

I have blind hope,

I can topple the very skies,

Seeing you through this storms evil eye,

Cyclops.

A spells cast for evil dead,

A lethal weapon aimed at your head,

A lethal injection prescribed as my meds,

You know true evil has no sex,

Through your keyholes you are next,

In deep holes my secrets sleep in kilos,

Heartless without a cage.

Suicide, suicide,

On my mind, all the time,

Every time I close my eyes,

All I think is,

Suicide, suicide.

Reread again, repeat.

All Hell is breaking loose,

Talking to myself,

You’re in my shoes,

I show and tell,

My horror corridor cells,

Again I have broken myself,

Now you know I am telling the truth.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,

Symmetry of fire within my sight,

When you scratch, feel my bite,

I fit in well, a façade with stripes.

Hunting prey within this grass,

Running away into my grasp,

Clasp the notion whence you dance,

I’ll be back to a no-one,

A serpent upon sand.

I’m a force of positivity

So take my hand and hang on

I can scare the night away

I have blind faith

I can climb every mountain

Swallowing you whole

Dragons

A fiery breath to keep you warm

Sharp claws to defend my treasure

Wings that can fly you right out of here

You know true love has no face

Compassion doesn’t cost a dime

In dark woods I keep my heart

Mindless without shackles

Never give up, never surrender

On my mind, all the time

Every time life breaks me down

All I think is

Never give up, never surrender

Like a broken record

I will fight hell, taunt the Heavens

Talking to you

Lighting the beacons

I show and tell

Breaking down the prison cell

Where you are holding yourself

Captive

Inside your own damned mind

Symmetry of ice, sparkling bright

When you bite, feel my rage

I don’t fit in, never did

A ugly duckling between swans

Swimming in a sea of madness

I will save you from drowning

Save you from yourself

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True Evil Holds a Pen


joker-laughs

I am flirting with fire; from normality I had cold-feet. I am a kerfuffle of trouble, there’s no saving me now as I have mushroom-clouds for thought bubbles. They lacerate my world believing they killed me, I’m letting slip my dogs of war until they know me as a reformed super villain. Challenge Completed, Planet Earth; I’m spinning out-of-control, no fault of my own, I couldn’t keep hold. I’m a libertine shoulder barging my way through the captive creators; I’m writing on black paper in the dark.

No brain freeze or frisson, picking up lightening-bolts and throwing them at the pages of rapture I capture. This is merely reverie I reveal and unravel, I time-travel back and thwart all my enemies plans for me. I am no poltroon, I pollute pages personally I made it personal because I am no longer a person. The rain trickles down and washes away all my plights from my face, I change my mind and change my face and I am giving the world hell again, true evil is holding a pen. My calm levels are unstable, upon this page I have too much sycophantic horsepower, I bucking-bronco my way out from this web of life.

bipolar_by_jaeia

In school, after Maths was English class where I jotted down my aftermath from the bullies pulley, I guess I’m pure vile and puerile, I’m not a Transformer I can transmogrify. Rambunctious to my soul’s battery core; setting my switch to self-destruction. A man can only receive so much failure in his life before superiority takes over his eyes focus. Insanity is a gift from the Gods; I wield and shield it against sanity.

This world sees what they want to see; I could have charming characteristics, suave and soigné, hats off to me, my undercurrent is currently a catastrophe. All passengers, we have a slight insurgence for turbulence and wizen, please, fasten your seatbelts and come join me within my plummet. Its drizzling green and yellow pills, I’m dancing in the pain, I jump in blood puddles and reappear in sky tunnels of bliss. This hurt in my head I play it over and over again, until a joker smirk arises on my face, I’m no longer insane, isn’t life splendiferous.

insane 12

Within my writing I cannot be a stentorian, so I must visual lies my memory video-taped life, transplant and transport all of my supercilious kisses of life, these pages are where my wishes go to find a place to die. This world should have boxed me in early, now I can create topsy-turvy from everything that profoundly promotes to hurt me. Here comes the valetudinarian again, turn away, don’t dare turn that page, it’s all of the same. I could be a beacon of silver-lining light, but the doctors beat my head in with a rock to keep me under it for eternity. I am a writer, this is what I do, keep bringing you words and I shall sit here and laugh at you.

This image was selected as a picture of the we...

This image was selected as a picture of the week on the Malay Wikipedia for the 44th week, 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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If We Only Die Once, I Want To Die With You


If we only die once I want to die with you

If we only die once, I want to die with you. I had a dream of our perfect life together, holding hands in the midst of each other’s battles. If we are side by side we could conquer it all, we could be royal lovers in our ravishing dark land. Too much booze brings out our slurring kiss of life; me + you = us. Self-destruct with me and I promise you will not be alone in this world full of people.

I only have one heart so I can only share it with one other person; you! We have nothing else but this.  You give me life being around you, if you were to ever leave me the loneliness would be my serial killer every day. As time goes by and I haven’t seen your face in a while, I begin to think I could live without you but when you arrive in front of me, the feeling of loving something which is precise for my soul comes flooding back in. You do more for me than you know.

I love you, the term sounds so overused so let me just say I love us. Billions of people within this world and I haven’t met them all but there is one I cannot live without. I want to grow old and senile with you, forget you one moment and dance in our treasured memories the next. I stand a man upon this page ready to fight for love on its own battlefield. Over this past year my life has been about you, you haven’t gone that far from my mind but you always arrive at my door; your knock knocks me down. Something bigger than my ego and passion is at work. I know you and it is a love of stellar proportions. I can daydream of you for hours and hours, to the outside world I am living with a daze but inside myself I am building a greater future for us both, keeping our love alive. A man would go crazy without a proper woman.

I am being held by the angels; does that mean I am in danger? And now I can’t stay with you, I am afraid that death is my cure. Have I jumped my last stepping stone? Let myself in through heavens doors. Set forth from the light beyond, from the fight before I have to stay strong. Laying here, going, going, gone. Then being thrown in the darkest of holes, at the back of my home. My eyes I have to keep them opened, the reaper is soul shopping, he says “More often than none, you will be homed within that coffin.”  No! We could be together forever, until death do us part, I would go further than that just to protect both of our hearts. I would travel to heaven or even to hell, just so I can save you, my love, and make you my world. Now watch me deteriorate, as I feel all this weight, of looking fear in the face, seems like now we’re in a race, in this day and age, can’t be without the key to my cage, “What would they say if I wanted out?” They would say. “Alex, you are not seeing this straight, it is normal for you to be feeling this way.” To me, today, towards this world, keep me away.

Destiny is written within us all, each footstep is a word, each mile is a sentence and each life is a book, no matter how the ending the novel shall be finished.

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The Murder of Crows – Short Story


List of birds of Western Australia

List of birds of Western Australia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hey guys, sorry it has been a couple of weeks since my last confession with writing. I have been battling some personal demons, these things don’t know when to quit. But I am back with a short story for my fellow followers about one of my favourite animals, the crow. Hope you enjoy. Comment – rate and please like. Thanks. Your writer friend, me!

The Murder of Crows – Short Story

Peer pressure and wayward ways, we were called the Front yard boys. There was Jimmy “Pecker” Peck, he was our leader. The toughest kid in school but the weakest in his household, every time we met up he always had a fresh-cut or shining sable eye. He was always the first into conflict and last to leave our gang when the streetlights flicked on. Troy “Peeps” Epson, he was the brains of our operation, he let us copy his homework which he handed in on time and received full marks. Don’t let the thick rimmed glasses fool you; he takes them off every time we fight for school yard territory or rep.

Stevie “Ste” Banks, he was the fastest runner in our school and always excelled in every gym lesson we had. He was the only black kid in school, so he hung around with all of us so no one got the wrong impression to make fun of his colour when the adults weren’t around. And for the nineteen thirties Idaho, it was rather a big deal for some eyes.

And then there was me. Derek “Mazie” Maze, second in command to Pecker, we were that must have best friends we finished off each other’s sentences and usually saw eye to eye when it came to having fun and causing mayhem.

In a lined formation we four already bored on a gloriously saffron morning of the best day of the week, Saturday. We walk down the dust alley at the back of our neighbourhood, we hung out there, telling jokes, looking at saucy magazines one of us had stolen from our big brothers, or let Peeps come up with a great ways to cause havoc in our town without getting caught.

“God, I’m already bored and barely even weekend, tell me if this is what getting old means then life can keep it, cause I never want to be bored.” Pecker spat, chucking dust rocks at trash cans.

Peeps lay on the grass opposite the trash cans. I sat wracking my brains, trying to figure out how not to waste this perfect day with my friends. Ste dribbles a half crushed coca cola can with his feet.

I pipe up. “Peeps what’s on your mind buddy?” With his hands placed behind his head he stares up at circling birds.

“Did you know when birds hatch from their eggs they imprint on the first bird or creature they see.”

“That’s it!” I leap from the trash can. “I’ve always wanted a pet but my mom is allergic to cats and dogs and money is kind’a tight but she always said I could have a bird.”

With his arms opened in an order to us all. “Well lets go get Mazie a pet bird.” Pecker urges.

We all arrive at the Gershwin Tree, the biggest tree in all the state. My dad used to tell me the story of the Gershwin Tree before bed. Legend has it the tree only homes crows, crows help deliver souls to the other side once they had passed. Hundred of crows flock around the area where we stand; the tree is a shrine for them all. It feeds and homes them. Caws and flapped wings are all you can hear. More than a dozen birds a keeping watchful eyes on us from the floor as they forage in the ground for worms.

“You want it Mazie, go fetch.” Pecker commands with a pointed finger.

Is it a bad time to reveal this is a bad idea?

“Yeah Mazie, good luck teaching a stupid bird anything buddy, why not get a grass snake their probably hundreds in this field to feed this murder.” Ste amps his smirks comment at me.

One or two birds are fine to be around but when I am climbing up a prison full of these murders my thoughts will begin to race. One – two steps; I am standing in the shadow of the godlike conifer tree. The calls of the birds echo deep within my soul, a wild fear takes hold of my breaths. I reach my hands up and take hold of a furry terracotta branch and begin to hoist myself upwards. Every level of the colossal tree no less than five birds flees their homes from this unwary invader.

“Hurry up you wussy!” The hollered yells egg me onwards and upwards. “Just pick one all ready!”

Deep within the confines of overlapping corbeau branches sits a nest; the sunlight peers in ever so slightly to look upon the secret bird which tweets away chirpily to itself. I creep closer, hanging on for dear life.

“Hey there little guy.” I introduce my head, blocking out the rays of light. The tweeter stands shocked, facing away from me, his left eye glued to my motion. I hesitate for a sec before I unwittingly take which is not mine. My hands clamp around the body of the chirper whilst it squiggles his or her jerking head.

“Hey he’s got one, hurry bring it on down here!” Heckles make my mind made up.

I clamber down the maze of shedding bark and cobwebs with one hand, as I reach the last few meters there is a three meter drop blocking my freedom from this cell of bird droppings and screeches from beyond the grave.

“Just Jump it, don’t be a wimp now Mazie, you’re so close.” I can see in Peckers eyes that was an order. I take in a few breaths before I take a leap into gravity but just as I take flight downwards a blur of atrous feathers clouds my judgement and senses, I plunge down, wafting my arms in a frenzy of defence against my attacker from the sky.

“Mazie, are you okay? Damn bird tried to peck out your eyes.” Ste picks me up to my feet as I shake off the bad landing. “Look…” Peeps sputters crouching in the grass, his unblinking eyes fixed into his cupped hands.

“What is it, Peeps?” The boss ponders. We all gather around him and from up here we all see a lifeless crow chick, my mind musters and flutters into one thousand pieces.

“What have I done?” I confess my soul. “It was an accident Mazie, don’t worry about it, death happens” Pecker assures me with his arm slumped over my shoulders. “Let’s split guys.”

Peeps places the chick back on the fingers of grass gently and shuffles away. I stay staring at the bird; I have done a bad deed. The flaps of wings still circle, an immense fuliginous crow lands on an empty branch, the weight of the bird almost snaps the trees arm. The bird doesn’t break eye contact with me I can see her flammeous eyes burn through me. She begins to screech within her caw, it almost bloodies the ear. The clouds curdle and the suns candle is blown away, a storm is coming. I back away slowly, still in shock. The Front-yard Boys have walked on ahead. I cannot escape this ringing of the bird’s cries. I run.

I ravish the sheets; my mind has too much guilt to rest my soul for the night. I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping the discomfort would keep my eyes closed until daylight. I am too warm under my covers and too cold outside of them. All I can daydream about is the chick dying by my foolish actions.

A thud at my window makes me shoot to an upright position, my eyes widened to the possibility of fear. Clicks and taps at my window make me question to investigate or hide under my covers.

I sluggishly tiptoe from my bed to the window; the curtains hide my glass knocker. Shall I gradually open them or swiftly shift both sides. I stick with the second.  I promptly push the curtains aside. Sitting upon my windowsill sit the crow from earlier, my heart sinks to the depths of despair and my thoughts lead only to revenge upon me. I attempt to frighten off my terror, roaring and throwing plastic soldiers and socks at my window to make the bird take off. I look in her eyes and with her black eyes she glances into my blackened soul.

I give up.

The bird jumps to the centre of the window and turns around, she begins to caw out into the twinkle night sky. I look over the bird into the distance and see the night blur darker. I squint in scrutiny, what is that? The rumble of noise soon becomes apparent; hundreds of crows are coming for me. I stand in stagger; you cannot run from whatever the sky provides.

The claps of tinkered talons chip on my rooftop, creeks from the shabby ceiling and wood walls elongate through my ears as fingers of noise. All of the crows must be working together to unwrap the head of my house. The top corner comes away from my bedroom. I am opened to the elements of raining crows. The mother bird enters my bedroom from the gaping hole, perched on my chest-of-drawers next to my comics and figurines.

“I know why you’re here.” I caw at the crow, she talks back.

An army of wings and black beaks swoop down and clasp on to my pyjamas. They lift me up into the air, through the bird made break. They carry me in through the clouds over the rooftops of my friend’s homes.  I can see the Gershwin Tree in the foreground.

I took her chick from their home and killed it, they kidnapped me to suffer the same fate. This is my own entire fault.

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A Monster of a Writer


leave this book alone

A Monster of a Writer

I believe in my words as you do fairy-tales, one day a silver lining shall prevail over all of my darkness. But until then I shall cut clouds azure veins and make it rain blood-red, twirl underneath something so passionately beautiful, I need you to see what is inside of me; what I am capable of doing, become tantalized by the colours of my soul. This page is writer’s stage; I’m sacrificing myself to the music of horrific words for your entertainment only. I’m leaping from buildings and drowning in an oceans currents, currently at the end of this pen I am immortal; nothing can stop me for achieving this deathly desired gift from life, turn the page and gain a paper-cut from me, even my words feed on your blood.

Keep going, Alex. Keep going! Show them all what you can do with words, out write them all, have them think twice about you!

Bite those fingernails down to the bone, keep going and swallow your arm, for this one idea you are looking for. They have gangs and hordes armed to the teeth, you laugh through your teeth and bring forth an undead alliance with the real monsters of this unnatural world, watch them cross you now, forever is all you have to get ready for war, luckily we are not men of the cloth.

Every word is a brick, so you say; are you building a new home for a new life? In my eyes, Alex, you are only another brick in that wall, the one that is holding up all of your foundations, do you not know that you are supposed to space your life out evenly. Hahaha! Mr. Broken!

I’m trying to escape from this haunted house from my bedroom window, the room has started to bring all of my nightmares to life; but as soon as I do I am dangling from my ankles from the windowsill, the evil is keeping me here. The whole neighbourhood has come to have a gander at something more damaged than them. Don’t help, I’m not scared to be dragged under this bed again. The monster under my bed ate the monster in my closet, there is no comfort within home. Come live with us, Alex, you are one of us.

the monster undre my bed

I like the idea of becoming a writer; you can’t blame me for believing in it, I’m a dreamer. No colour but so vivid, so close as I hand-slap myself away from grasping it. Maybe it’s not for me? Maybe I’m holding this pen wrong? Even if I have to steal the sun and use it as a bargaining-chip to ensure this dream doesn’t flourish away into the back of my mind as another failure, I will!

This pen is my Excalibur, with so much calibre that when I write people board up the doors and windows to make sure the evil I conjure doesn’t come knocking. Nothing grows upon the pages I write upon, death lives here, the birds migrate around me and wind changes direction to ensure it doesn’t come in contact with my shell. Something’s cannot be explained, plus the mystery brings in the readers.

I’m in love with this pen, I will kill for it.

monster writer

They have tried to stop me from writing before; the priests came for tea and they tied me to the bed, they asked me cease and I projectile vomited all over them. I’m still chuckling. This is my way of exorcising my demons, do not read; do not think, close this page; they will come get you.

I only have one question. When is enough – enough? When will I know I have reached the end dark adventure? If I scream through my words would you be able to see the stream down my face?

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