KC Rell: Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction

Ghosts

Ghosts whisper in the night
Trying to end this endless fight
For their lives back;
They’ll never see
That what we are
Is who we are.

Ghosts whisper in the night
Trying to end this endless flight
For their destiny that surely awaits;
They do not want to face it.

Ghosts whisper in the night
Trying to end their endless night
Of the dark and dreary

Ghosts whisper in the night
Trying to escape their destiny.

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The End

Trying to fight this endless war
The rich will die, so will the poor.
Trying to fight an endless fight
All in the blackest depths of night.

Trying to end the suffering and pain
Of this fight that has no gain.
But you fight it, as you always will
You will make it.

Trying to fight your endless tears
Shuddering away from all your fears;
But we will make it
As we see fit.

And in the end, the darkest night
…We will live.

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Broken

Don’t make me cry, I can’t take anymore.
Don’t make fun of me; I’m nothing to laugh at.
Turn away, I don't need you.
I’m broken, but I can deal.

Don’t talk behind my back, I’m sick of it.
Don’t think you’re better than me; I’m too used to it.
Just turn away, I don’t need you.
I’m broken, but I'm real.

Don’t mistake me for being selfish, I’m not.
Don’t say I’m mad at the world, I’m not.
Don’t say I hate everyone, I don’t.
I’m broken, but I can still feel.

You always say I don’t love anyone—I do.
You’re always putting me down—don’t.
I may be broken, but I can heal.

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I'm Okay

See me and judge I am quiet,
See me and judge that I am scared.
See me and judge I am mad,
See me and judge that I am not okay.

Know me and see that I am.

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My Thanksgiving

I have always loved Thanksgiving. The smell of the juicy meat, the oven-rolls, the butter-filled mashed potatoes, the thick, creamy gravy…it’s all so wonderful. Especially eating all of it. My mommy usually makes all of it (with a little help from me, of course), and it usually turns out wonderful. If my daddy helps, though, the smell isn’t all that sweet. The smoke alarm usually goes off and the thick, creamy gravy is usually black. Don’t ask me how that’s possible.

Our whole family usually comes an hour before it’s all done; my older brother, and my younger brother who has shut himself in his room all day and who had just now come out when he smells the spicy meat. My older brother usually comes with his wife, Mandy, and their little baby, Sam. Mandy usually sets up dinner. “No, no, Lily!” she says to me when I try to taste some of the food, and smacks my nose. How can I help it if I want to make sure the food isn’t poisoned? Not that my mommy or daddy would poison us, but you never know. And I’m just doing my job. Mommy tells me to help. Mandy finishes setting the table, and soon everyone starts to bring out all the food. In prayer, I try to snatch a little bite from my little brother’s plate. My daddy glares at me and I bow my head, embarrassed. When mommy finishes, she goes to the kitchen and brings out the turkey. Twenty pounds of juicy, thick meat is sure to make anyone’s mouth water, but mine is the worst. I haven’t eaten all day for this special event; the event of fill-your-stomach-full-with-all-you-can-eat. It’s so exciting!

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Procrastinator

We are all procrastinators. Whether we like to admit it or not, we truly are. All of us. Yes, you too.

Whether we say “I’m a vegetarian tomorrow!” like what I often do (because honestly, eating animals makes me sick), but then we are caught smelling the juicy, sweet smell of chicken cooking…no, you are not a vegetarian.

Or, “I’ll wake up in five minutes…” Then you wake up an hour later.

Yes, we are all procrastinators. But seriously, can you please not wait until a special holiday like Christmas to clean out my litter box?

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I Can See Clearly Now

I’m so sick of being locked up in a cage. I’m a bird with wings, and I deserve to fly. Fly, fly away, like my brothers could, but I never got the chance to. You know why? Because as soon as mum taught me how to flap my tiny little black wings, a net surrounded me and the next thing I knew I was at PETCO, being stared at by kids who are too old to be sucking on their thumb.

Well, I have to admit they got me. None of my other brothers were dumb enough to just flap out in the open when mum clearly warned us of danger…not my fault she never told me about humans.

Ew, a little kid with peanut-butter is sticking his hand in my cage. Why would they buy a bird for scenery? I want to fly, fly away like my brothers did. Fly and (hopefully) never return. Humans are disgusting. The way they eat my ancestors with me in the same room makes me sick. They don’t think I see the cooking chicken. Ahh, Fred!

Oh, and that cat. When will the humans notice him opening the cage door? He almost got me once, but luckily I moved behind the other bird.

Ah! The glorious door is open! Now I shall try my great escape. The escape I’ve been planning for exactly seven months two days thirty-three seconds. Tiptoe to the door…pull it open…fly out! Just barely to the door—smack!

“Aw, silly bird. Honey, I told you not to buy that Windex.”

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Five Feet From Me

Trevon.

He's carved his name
into me,
and now I'll have him
forever.

I watch him
whenever he comes near,
and hope he sees me.
He never has before.

Until one day,
while I'm eating,
he sits five feet from me
to write.
I can't breathe.

He leaves,
as soon as a girl rides up
on a white pony.
He smiles at her,
like nothing else
in the world matters.
Why can't he see me?

She gets off
of her white pony,
and he takes her hand.
I wish he could take mine,
but I don't have any;
at least not to him.

The sun has gone
by the time he comes back
with the girl,
and her pony.
Time seems to go by
so slow
when he's gone.

They sit
five feet from me,
and talk about summer,
and the beach.
Somewhere I'd like
to be.

They sit
and stare at the stars
twinkling
billions of miles away.
He calls them cool,
she calls them pretty,
I say they're beautiful.

I laugh and point
at a falling star,
shooting across the sky.
But he doesn't see it,
because now he's holding
her,
and telling her she's more
beautiful
than the stars.

Why can't he tell me that?

Now he's leaving,
but before he goes,
he carves her name
under his,
with a heart in between.

He loves her.
What did I expect?
A human like himself
could never love
a tree.

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Runaway Apology

I say I’m going to
Run away.
She thinks I’m lying.
He thinks I’m joking.
The truth is I’m not.
I’ve packed my stuff,
And I’m heading out the door now.
They’re going to be sorry.

I’m down the street
When I hear shouts.
They scream ‘she’s gone,’
And to call the police.
I told them they’ll be sorry.

I run to the town,
Ducking behind parked cars
When I see the lights
Of flashing red and blue.
I run to the store behind me
To hide.
They’re sorry.

If they would have just listened,
I would have been there.
Not in the streets,
Where I told them I would be,
And where I am.
They’re sorry.

I catch a ride
On the passing taxi.
He’s going to take me to
The next city.
I don’t know what to think.

The taxi driver drives over
A set of tracks,
Right when a train is speeding
Past.
We’re going to get hit.
I scream to him to stop,
But he won’t listen.
He thinks we’ll make it.
We don’t.

I’m sorry.

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Who I wanna be

I stare at her
The pop-sensation.
Everyone wants
To be like her,
Including me.
She’s who I wanna be.

Beautiful long hair,
Blue eyes,
Perfect skin..
They’re all no match
For dirty-blonde,
Hazel eyes,
Freckled skin.
She’s who I wanna be.

And now she stares
Back at me,
Taunting me that she’s
Famous.
She’s who I wanna be.

Now ten years later,
She still stares back.
But not the girl
From before,
But me.
I’m who I wanna be.

On the face of all the
Magazines,
Little girls stare at me
As I once did.
I’m who they wanna be.

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