theopenmindpalace

[theopenmindpalace]

The Jay

The old weather vane had rusted in such a way that its creak had attracted the attention of a smitten blue jay. The jay would sit in a nearby tree, bouncing with the branches as the wind brought its lover to life. The jay had learned quickly that the skinny iron bird would dance if he kept his distance, but she fell quiet and still whenever he landed upon her metal perch. Thus, the jay found himself content to court her from afar, twirling himself as she swayed, happy to hear her song, even after the leaves abandoned the trees.

[theopenmindpalace]

they lassoed the moon, did you hear? yeah they brought it down last night and she got so close the water that the tides shot into the supermarkets

yeah my grandma had to pick out her radishes from waist-high ocean she said that the pasta was too close the ground so it was all floating

they're holding the moon halfway now so it's really beautifully bright you can see all the rich men running up and down the tether wearing bandanas to raise money for some charity they started

yeah no i think they're going to keep it there haha, yeah like as a resort somebody said something on the news about turning her face green with little chopped golf grass how about that; we will have a different moon in our memory than in the future , imagine asking were you born before the moon was green haha

last night yeah if you went outside to watch the balloon of her astral body bobbing in our atmosphere all that white particulate coming down like plaster drifting snow in moonrocks over our upturned cheeks

the moon, chafing, unable to rest in peace

[theopenmindpalace]

Please let me leave the world more gentle than when I first found it, let every heart I touch be soothed, be softened, may everyone meet me and rest easy, may I be a moment of reprieve, let me be their belonging, let me be their peace, may I be whatever they need to keep breathing, may I be the hesitancy to their leaving, please, come whatever may, let me be another reason they choose to stay.

[theopenmindpalace]

Please let the dreams stay sweet and soft, may the sun wake you before your alarm does, may the roads be warm beneath your feet and the air taste like morning on your tongue. May the wind play with your hair and the grass tickle your toes and may every step you take be a steady one. You have been tired for so long, I hope that you know rest and pray that you know peace, that the world that greets you after you sleep is one of hope and love and everything you've ever dreamt of awaits you at your door. May you know even more than this, may your life be one of happiness.

[theopenmindpalace]

Regretful Witches

When we argued with the witches, thought them all just mad old bitches, taking men and life and riches with their magicks at their hands. Burning brightly by the fire, granted light by righteous ire. Leave their bodies in the pyre, force them from our holy lands.

But wait, our souls afflicted, to their deaths we are addicted. Kill them, don’t become conflicted, fight for God where glory sails. Watch the town’s life slowly fading, love for safety we are trading, matters not who may be hating, stay devout - avoid the jails.

After death they gain in power, coming back at witching hour, curdling milk, food all turns sour, when the witches all return. Souls of darkness cursing all, the land falls underneath a pall, glowing darkly, men will fall, their souls afire, spirits burn.

We turned away, avoid their faces, matters not what evil gazes, cast your way with mental mazes, look there not, lest ye be purged. What a horror has become this, righteous fire has undone this, I regret my hand upon this, I regret what evil urged.

[theopenmindpalace]

“It was the same old afternoon. I was in that usual spot Waiting for the bus to return But you were there, And soon my heart wanted to get out, Beating so fast, Drowning me deep inside my thoughts. I don’t want to expect, I don’t want to fall; I keep my feelings in check ��Cause I know you’ll be my greatest downfall. But this thing in the middle of my chest Has different plans for me. It doesn’t want to rest Especially when you are just beside me. So I let it be. I let my heart lead my feelings. I know this is insane; This will hurt in the end. But I don’t want to regret That I didn’t even get to try Falling in love with the stranger With that blue and orange bag.”

— z.v.

[theopenmindpalace]

one day, when the sun will burn off

and the skies will collide,

my bones will fade away

leaving behind nothing,

not dust,

not dirt,

not memories of who i was

or who i could have been

cuz during the heat death of the universe

bones mean shit and i am bones,

but our love would mean everything.

[theopenmindpalace]

Flash #3436

“Surprised you aren’t more pissed off at your day being ruined.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not happy about it but I don’t really see the point in throwing a strop. To me that’d be a bit like getting fed up and making everyone else miserable because a wave rolled up on shore that didn’t meet my standards. A bummer for me, yeah, but it’s not like there’s not going to be others, right?”

[theopenmindpalace]

2021

January came kicking down the door at 12.01 am on a winter morning. expecting his arrival for a month, I lie on my bed thinking of the calls ringing on my phone, missed. ignored. avoided. Like my dear January.

Only if I had listened to him a little more closely.

February was late on a warm afternoon. They stayed for a little while before floating away. With February, came my mother's birthday and we clapped and celebrated the first birthday of the year. Candles were blown, cake was cut and we sang happy birthday. But it was really Feb's departure that we were celebrating.

I miss you, Feb. I miss your calm, please come back.

I painted in my journal, wearing a hoodie, sitting at my table at 10 in the night when March knocked on the door. She came bearing flowers. They were all so different, so colourful, so pretty. I took them, pressed them between my old math textbooks and stuck them onto my journal. March reminded me of the things that still had colour in my life.

But it’s all gone. I only paint with grey now.

In a corner lie memories, drained of colour. April came with even prettier flowers, he even me bought some plants. He cleaned a little corner in my otherwise cluttered room, and put all those plants there. I watered them everyday and gave them names. I felt lively. But it was only a distraction from the, red, red colour draining from my own body. Why didn't he warn me? It was mid afternoon on a Sunday.

Did he not see it too? Or maybe the bleeding start when he released his clutches off me.

My room lit up the moment May came in. They dressed in pastel colours. I was wrapped in my bed sheets still when they kissed me on the lips. They tasted like strawberry ice cream melting on my tongue. As we lay on the grass, pricking our backs slightly, cool breeze dancing on our foreheads, May caressed my body and held me like I’ve never been held before. They kissed me again, slowly, when they left.

I miss them now.

I was scrolling through my phone on a windy evening as the sun sank, when an unexpected visitor knocked on the door. It opened to June Before I could even say anything, she sprung at me, lifted me in her arms and spun me around. She was clearly thrilled to see me. I wish I could say the same about here blow out my birthday candles days before she left. She parted with gifts and love. She danced and I danced with her. But the moment she left, I felt sometime stir in me, almost as if she took a part of me with her.

She took a piece of my soul, in exchange for a kiss on my forehead.

July snuck in through the back door, said he wanted to surprise me. Shock overtook surprise  when I saw the clear sky turn cloudy as the sun floated away into the oblivion. One of the plants that April gave me died and he saw me crying my tears into the pot. He held me close and promised me it was going to be okay.

I should have known better than to look for comfort in his lies.

August came with it’s ball and chain while I was still dancing in a meadow with June. She pulled me in, tied me down and walked away. What an oddity she was. Fear ran through my veins instead of blood. What difference did it make anyways? My face lost all colour and pain and suffering were only grey. Strange and breathless days filled her voids. She led me to do things I regretted in September.

I say she made me do things I regretted but really she just stood and watched me burn.

September arrived slowly. Like autumn, the leaves don't change overnight and neither does September. They knocked on the door on a rainy Wednesday morning and I was surprised to see them. "it's a little early" I said. Perhaps they weren't early, I was simply oblivious, even their expression said so. Thunder and lightning rumbled in the sky and in my heart. We drank coffee on the balcony with ten thousand things on our minds. But it was peaceful, nonetheless.

We knew end was near, might as well have accepted it.

October left a sour taste in my mouth. She came in when the sun was blazing, she was sweating and she left when it got cold, she left me, in the cold. She talked of the stars and clouds, when the sky was still clear. But she turned on me like the skies, sneaking out the back door. I can't say I miss her, at least not now. After all depression comes only after anger. I don't remember the day, I think it was at noon.

Autumn changes leaves, the weather and everyone around you.

It is November, the words have died in my throat and I have nothing to say.

It is November and I have nothing to say.

December is cold. Not like snow, but like a cup of tea that's been kept out for too long. Mundane, leaving a bad aftertaste, December was giving into chaos. It was a dull, grey afternoon, when I found myself sitting with December, soaking up the sun, like eating leftover pieces of an orange. December left with pomp and show, perhaps to make up for all the days spent in mere contemplation.

December seeped into my bones like cold does, but the cold stayed even when December left.

December left and it was January, all over again. I have grown older and my hands are little more nimble now. The pen I so dearly held, bled out in my hands before it could say everything.

Golden mist coats everything, and the sun begins to rise. Is it a new beginning or am I tugging on the silver thread tied around me, leading me to my eminent death, as I march on like a solider? Either way, I suppose I'll wait. For this catastrophe to seem beautiful again. For chaos to seem rational again. And if another year passes me by, I’ll be sure to tell you all about it.

[theopenmindpalace]

Concept: A trans/enby person stumbling upon a fae in the woods, the fae asks for their name and they give their birthname to which the fae responds “No, i mean your real name”

[theopenmindpalace]

Stars

Stars are the most spectacular specks I know. They provide a path for you to follow, And they give an eternal gleam, And they encourage thoughts and dreams. They twinkle in the night, And they provide a magnificent sight, And they give us light. But mostly because they’re so high when we’re so low- Stars are the most spectacular specks I know.

-A.G.R

~

The formatting of this admiration poem is adapted from Trees by Harry Behn. I created this piece of writing for a school project.

[theopenmindpalace]

You make me catch my breath. Clumsily. Frequently. Like a child learning to ride a bike in the rain. It’s a rare gift; an indication of who you are - who you could be, to me.

I daydream about you, consciously, absentmindedly; how it would feel to give myself to you. Not in a way in which I am in spreader bars, hands tied behind my back - but in a way like your hands are playing with my hair and my entire body has goosebumps and my very core is exposed. It’s a different kind of submission, one that evades most people who try hold me. Most days, I am all thorns. Tonight, I am cotton wool.

I’d like you to break me. The way an architect breaks rules by reinstating a character fireplace in a modernised period property; a deliberate act of love and defiance. My soul is on its knees begging for a release. Begging to submit, to relinquish. To be discovered.

I am an unread novel; desperate for your eyes.

[theopenmindpalace]

If you’re contemplating suicide...

… first -  take a breath with me.            Take it in…                     (I know it is a fragile thing) …let it go… and with it know that I am open palmed and breathing -         just breathing - with you. Give me a moment or two of your time,        (that precious, fleeting thing), and let’s linger in this moment just a brief, quiet minute before we depart. I, too, can feel my heart break with every beat and it is terrifying when it stops hurting. There is nothing left to feel and yes, the world runs still beneath your steps. But you have not left me, yet. (I am going to tell you a secret, and I am going to trust that you will keep it the way it has kept me) If the weight of this world has burdened your soul and bowed your head, if you believe you’re better off dead, I ask only that you give me another moment instead and I will hand you a pen. Before we go to our end, let us write our letters to those we leave behind. Leave your heart in every line and let the ghosts out of your chest. Tell them that you tried your best but you just can’t stay, let your tears stain the page and blur the ink. But write, please, just write with me a little while more until you’ve pressed your goodbyes into every word. Let everything you buried be unearthed, let your voice be heard. And if you are still unsure that you’ve said everything you needed to, I will wait with you until you are done even if it takes a thousand suns to write it all. Every star could fall and I would not leave your side. (because that is the secret between you and I, the one I promised to share if you gave me your time.) Letters can be written a hundred different ways, but writing goodbyes helps us to find a million reasons to stay. And I will spend every moment of every day writing them with you.

[theopenmindpalace]

Between Realms, chapter 1

[Author’s note: this story will include heavy religious themes, lots of discussion of death, paranormal stuff, bodily harm, knives, guns, and a little swearing, so if any of that makes you uncomfortable you’ve been warned]

Darien was delighted to see that his husband, Maxim Holloway, was finally home from work.

“I apologize for not arriving in time for dinner,” He said, closing the door to their apartment behind him.

“It’s fine, honey, I’m just glad you’re here in one piece.” Darien gave his husband a hug, as per usual. Maxim, also per usual, smelled like sage and brimstone. “Had a long day, huh?”

“Yeah,” Maxim sighed, removing his sludge-covered gloves to hug his husband back. “I hate doing exorcisms.”

“Aww, I know.”

“I need to go take a shower.”

“Okay. You want me to clean off your knives for you?”

“Oh, I’d greatly appreciate that.”

The Holloways, as you’ve probably noticed, were not very ordinary people — well, Darien was, but Maxim was barely a person at all. Maxim did not have a human soul, as he was an angel. However, due to a disagreement between him and his superiors, he was put on earth in a human vessel.

He preferred calling it “quitting” rather than “being exiled” or “falling,” but regardless of what you refer to the event as, he no longer has to follow God’s rules.

The water cascaded down Maxim’s back, tracing the scars that marked where his wings once were. He sighed, the heat melting away the ache under his skin. When Management took his wings, they didn’t tell him it would continue to hurt for years afterward.

A knock at the bathroom door. “Hey, Max? Phone for you.”

He groaned. “What is it now?”

“It’s some woman, she has some concerns involving vampires.”

“Such as?”

“Apparently she got bit last night.”

“Oh, shit. Okay, just… write down the name, phone number, and address, I’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, babe.”

[theopenmindpalace]

The Howl

Heyooooo no one asked for this but I randomly wanted to make a nice magical fam of friends and this is what happened. Hopefully I’ll write some more of these guys.

word count: 582

Its 1am letsgo

——————————————————————————————-

It was two o'clock; the time of night when all the good boys and girls found a window or balcony and waited. The moon was a thin slice in the sky, but, when she focused, Maera could feel its power dancing through her veins. She was sitting on the balcony of the apartment, sprawled out on an old park bench lined with pillows. It was summer in the city, a cool breeze carried the laughs and music of nearby parties on its peruse about town.

It was the perfect night for a howl.

Terrence, the English Bulldog who lived a block away, must have thought so too. Low and gruff, his howl sounded off into the night. He was soon followed by a terrier, then the retrievers who hog the dog park.

One by one, the dogs and dog like creatures of New York declared themselves to the night.

“What are they saying?”

The voice made her jump and let out a feeble squeak. Dante always had a way of sneaking up on people and Maera always startled at the smallest things.

He smiled lightly as he leaned out the window. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Maera cleared her throat and relaxed once more. “They’re just talking about their day.”

There was a distant bay.

Maera looked out over the city lazily. “That one said it can smell beef.”

Somewhat closer there was a whine. Then a loud howl.

“That pug asked if anyone knows who the good boy is.” Dante’s head turned to look at his roommate, stifling a laugh. It was late and he wasn’t expecting his study break to turn into a scene from UP. Maera continued, “That loud guy was warning everyone that humans don’t always throw the ball.”

Dante threw his head back and let out a burst of laughter, making Maera giggle. Laughs like those were rare for Dante and she always loved being a part of them.

“Would you like to join?” Her round, cinnamon roll eyes stared innocently at him.

The view was suddenly replaced with the blur of Cora’s reddish hair, accompanied by “FIGHT ME!!! How do you say fight me in dog?”

On cue, Maera jumped at the noise, recoiling into a ball. She seemed to grow smaller and the hair around her face looked as if it was growing longer.

“Um, like th-this, I guess.” Maera continued to shrink and her hair seemed to grow around her until she took the form of a small dog. She let out a small and earnest howl. Cora joined in, riling up the rest of the town who responded in a cacophony of barks and bellows.

Cora leaned back triumphantly, squishing Dante in the process. The window to the balcony was wide, but Cora was tall and unabashedly took up space. He huffed. Or chuckled. No one could be sure, but she was proud all the same. The two turned to look at their furry friend.

Maera was human again and giggling her friends. “Usually it’s not polite to make fun of the howl, but I think you should be fine. You guys are part of my pack.”

Dante turned to look out onto the lights of the city again. Cora just stared at an oblivious Maera and blushed like idiot. The two had never been a part of anything. They didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. However, if it was supposed to feel as warm and perfect as that summer night, they didn’t want to be a part of anything else.

[theopenmindpalace]

Night Market

The market sprang up out of nowhere in the latter half of June. Sometimes it was on the weekend, sometimes not. Sometimes there were food stalls, sometimes not. Sometimes there was this little old woman wandering slowly through the center of the bustling crowd that always came to see it. The crowd would part around her like waves on the beach around a boulder, the old woman unfazed by it all. Where she was going, no one knew, and no one bothered to ask–except me.

I wasn’t the first, though. She answered my query as to her health with aplomb as the shouting market washed over her, bumping into my shoulders where I stood and knocking me about. Not so, her. She motioned with a hand to the side of the street and walked easily. I followed with difficulty.

She took me to a door in the side of a building that didn’t look like it belonged. A beaded curtain covered a short doorway set into the restaurant’s alley wall. Knowing the restaurant as I did, there was no way a portion of it was rented out to some old woman or whoever lived inside this door. When I ducked inside I saw the interior wasn’t a restaurant at all, but a tiny one-person room filled with incense smoke and cushions. She motioned to them and I sat while she shuffled into place opposite me.

She looked at me with wry amusement, opened her mouth, and the next thing I knew I was back on the street. In my hand I held a small note written in a shaky hand in a language I didn’t recognize. In a daze I turned and walked slowly home.

I got my promotion the next week. My boss disappeared. My co-workers were nicer. My customers easier. I had my wish, but I didn’t remember asking it. But perhaps, that’s how it’s meant to be. I kept tight hold of that note for the rest of my days.

[theopenmindpalace]

To be, or..

To be the rose, withering,  pleading  for nourishment, willing  to pluck  its own thorns, use them to carve at its own stem, and watch the lifeblood  drip downward with hope it may water its roots