You wanna fall in love with him
But he always looks right past you
You wanna make him see your eyes
But he's always looking for pleasurable lies
Don't let him tear you down
He's not worth your time
Just plant your feet on the ground
Just ignore his smoothly given lines
Make yourself turn around
He is only planning his next big crime
He is not your type
You wanna make him leave with you
During all the commotion when no one cares
You wanna be the one he'll keep inside
Don't fall too hard when you drop out of the sky
Oh, heed the advice of others, pretty please
Will you listen to him or me?
I am only here to give you all the strength you need
Tell me, how does it feel when he makes you bleed?
Don't let him tear you down
He's not worth your time
Just plant your feet on the ground
Just ignore his smoothly given lines
Make yourself turn around
He is only planning his next big crime
He is not your type
Don't let him tear you down
He's not worth your time
Just plant your feet on the ground
Just ignore his smoothly given lines
Make yourself turn around
He is only planning his next big crime
He is not your type
He is not your type
He is not your type
He is not your type
--Papers of Poetry (He is Not Your Type)
Jenny Estarte grabbed the microphone and took a deep breath. At only 16, she had discovered the use of Open Mike Night. It was such a great escape the hectic world of high school and homework and parents. Hardly anyone showed on Thursday nights with the exception of talent-less acts of folk songs and pop goodies of the week. Here, in Club Run-Down, where only the outcasts of high school went to play when darkness fell and shadow hid the emotions of the physically torn did she sing.
Don't say a word, Boy
Don't tell me another speech
You've been gone for way too long
And now, you're not mine to keep
The shame
Don't speak on the phone
Don't talk to me like I'm a child
You're always the one who's been in control
And now, I just want my life
Back
You tore me apart
And never said, "I'm sorry"
You broke my heart
Into millions of tiny pieces
Why do you always think
That it is only your right
To make this relationship sink
Well, now I'm the one saying "Goodbye"
Tonight
Don't kiss my lips
When you think I'm too dumb
To ask where yours have been
I am not having any fun
Anymore
You tore me apart
And never said, "I'm sorry"
You broke my heart
Into millions of tiny pieces
Why do you always think
That it is only your right
To make this relationship sink
Well, now I'm the one saying "Goodbye"
Tonight
Why dso you always think
That it is only your right
To make this relationship sink
Well, now I'm the one saying "Goodbye"
Tonight
Oh yes, tonight
She set the microphone down after the bass from the stereo system concluded and went to sit back down; not before tripping and stumbling her way towards her seat. Though her voice had a husky, enchanting quality, her feet and gracefulness always brought her back to reality. She was only a high school girl and for the time being that was all she was allowed to be.
Outside stood Leah Mason whose hazel eyes sparkled with very light touches of sky blue; she smiled warmly as Jenny stumbled out, losing a shoe in the process. She flipped her long, brown hair back and winked flirtatiously at the bewildered cutie standing in line for a soda. "I love my charm," she whispered as Jenny walked towards her. "And I love the way you dress. Where does one get a single shoe now and days."
"Oh, God!" The auburn haired singer glanced down and laughed. "Well, maybe it can become a new trend."
Leah simply shook her head and began to walk away; very, very amused. The slender 5'7" girl walked with confidence and composed herself so well around guys that it seemed she could have mistaken for a goddess. Every move was filled with utter fluidity and style; heads turned twice to take a single peek at the browned haired beauty. "That is why I love you, Jenny. You're so normal!"
Jenny smiled brilliantly, a trademark since the removal of her braces. "Normal! I'm tired of being normal. Now I want to live and be loved and adored by millions. I want what you have, Leah!" She twirled around on the foot that held the shoe. "I want to be exactly like you."
"No. You don't want to be like me. If you were, you would want to be you again. The one with the voice and the normal life and the parents who love you. That's what you want. Deep down inside, you know it's true." Her eyes gave nothing away; all that was pent up, stayed inside. "Wanna go retrieve your other half?'
Jenny smirked. "Yeah, I guess I should. After all, this one would be too lonely."
Hemmingford was in deep trouble.
As the corn swayed frantically, the devil was reborn and angrier than before. His ink black eyes scanned the area, which had become bigger and more profitable than before. As far he could tell, this only meant that more people would die, never really satisfying his insatiable hunger for blood and dead, rotting flesh. The dirt on his body needed to be wiped away and his torn black shirt had to be replaced. He left the yellow mantle in the ground. Yellow would not make a good impression on those he planned to meet that night. Pale skin showed through the black shirt, almost glowing with radiant light; he could have been the moon. The town was asleep and unaware that its worst nightmare awoke; new followers to the cause slept soundly, which they would soon need. Energy would not be plentiful as soon as he regained his former glory.
He walked towards town, feeling that rush he had missed so much. That rush when he knew people, infidels and unbelievers, would die in his mighty grip. His missed that rush.
The devil moved forward, hardly noticing the second sound of steps coming his way. The sound another devil was making. Another black-hearted devil like himself. Micah Balding could have cared less at the moment though. He was aiming to stain his hands with the blood of adults and those children who refused to bend their will to the cause. And Isaac Chroner was of no concern. He might have been a concern if he had noticed that Isaac was carrying a rather large scythe aimed at his torso. But that would have meant that he had to turn around. He did not want to.
Isaac stalked his prey quietly, moving in the shadows and watching with great attention at the way Micah moved. If he missed, Micah would move too quickly and hide elsewhere, leaving he no other choice but to chase after him and corner the prey. That would take too much energy; more than what he was willing to spare at the moment.
So, they both moved, hunting different prey and wondering if they would be caught; and if they were, they would just have to kill the one who noticed first. Slowly they moved, darkness welcoming them both back, hiding their profiles from the view of aged eyes. Micah walked over to where he remembered the storage shed sat; all his old instruments of destruction had remained there for too long. Isaac could only follow, the town of Hemmingford being a foreign land to him. Gatlin was deserted, the buildings crumbled by his glance alone. A few stray children remained, but he felt no reason to make them give him a welcome home party. But Hemmingford had repopulated rather quickly and he was pleased. He was even more pleased to discover Micah, alive; he had been a great disappointment. Never should he have become the second leader. Never.
The night was full of silence. Silence both leaders welcomed with open arms. But still they each yearned for the silence to be broken, by the sounds of dying infidels and blasphemous adults. So together they stalked, each looking at different victims but both wanting the same result.
Blood on their hands.
The warehouse looked exactly the same, only the fields that he had once planted there had been torn and pulled. The ground cried out for water and nourishment, but he had none to give. He tipped his black crowned hat in respect, lightly dusted himself off, and made his way towards the exit. The Old Bible was no longer needed for the children he sought to convert already knew enough of the old ways; Isaac and Micah would be at Hemmingford, but he planned on meeting them on sacred ground. Eli Porter wanted to reunite them all to Gatlin.
He recalled his place of residence very well and was glad to learn that it remained uninhibited; "As it should," he mumbled. "As it shall always be." The streets were damp from the recent drizzle of rain and he found it interesting that few boys were planning a late-night escapade on the house he once called home. "Don't children ever grow up?" he asked himself as one of the larger boys broke through the back window and opened the back door with ease. His eyes peered inside and noticed mounds of cobwebs adorning the place and large dust particles settling down into an armchair, end table, or lampshade. The intruders had all walked in single file, each holding a pillowcase, a flashlight, and one even held a talking board; they attempted to remain quiet and discreet but their lack of coordination made them easy targets or this case easy followers. "And let them face the risen prophet, the one who was given the powers to show them their evil ways and herd them into a new life full of promise and meaning. And they listened as they hid their face for the prophet's power was too much and they had yet to become true followers of the word."
A cockroach waltzed out of the wall, crawling lightly in search of food. Or it had sensed its master. Either way, it remained unaware of the large shoe that came crashing down, breaking its exterior shell and its soft insides. He stood there as the boys continued to follow in suit and growled under his breath. It was disgraceful to watch his own, die at the hands of boys who knew nothing of their actions. He began to grind his teeth and thought of what would be the best way to punish the stupidity of their actions.
The silo, the flames, the burning sensations had left his ashes. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the top and quickly began to gulp down as much air as he could. His eyes scanned as his hands felt the expansion of his lungs and his chest rise and fall like the ocean tides. It became easier and easier to move and realize that he was indeed alive and indeed well enough to stand. But his exit remained up high and out of reach. But Ezekiel simply grinned at the thought of starting over and beginning a new chapter of his legacy. However, he first had to get out.
Josiah leaned over and puked out the remaining mercury that had invaded his lungs and pores. His stomach hurt and his head was spinning at a dizzying rate. The tomb that had encased him no longer seemed to tear him down; the mercury no longer effected his body except when he found himself puking up more. The diseased body he had was forcing all the toxins out of his body; hands held up his body, while his face dripped in sweat. Nightmares he had while lying in his tomb would not leave as easily as the toxins; pain of being abandoned and unloved scorched his soul heat. But he could not worry about that. He had been called back into the line of duty by He Who Walks Behind the Rows. He could not afford to fail again.
Leah and Jenny walked down towards the awaiting taxi when Leah found herself reeling in excruciating pain; it ripped through her abdomen and forced its way up towards her beating heart. "Oh my God," she moaned as Jenny knelt down and began to ask random questions about her health. "He's back. What is he doing back?"
Jenny shook her head. "What's wrong, Leah? Whose back? What are you babbling on about? Do you need to go to a hospital?" She pushed her red hair back and sighed loudly. "The taxi is waiting; should we go to the hospital?"
Leah crouched down even further and moaned again. "Jenny, I-l-l-l-l be alright? Just get me home."
Jenny nodded and proceeded to help her friend into the running cab. Eli, can't be back, thought Leah as Jenny very loudly gave out orders, please don't let him be back. Eli can't find her yet. She has to remain hidden until the time is right. It is not the time. Eli, don't kill them yet. It is not time; go to where He calls you. Eli, please don't kill them yet.
There, another stab of pain ran through her blood. She moaned even louder this time. Eli, leave them be. Please, just leave them be. Another stab of pain raced through her veins. ELI! STOP THIS! THE BLOOD IS TOO MUCH, THE PAIN AND BLOOD ARE TOO MUCH! STOP STRIKING THEM DOWN! STOP STRIKING THEM DOWN. IT IS NOT THE TIME; ELI, YOU CAN HEAR ME! GO BACK TO GATLIN AND AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS. THE OTHERS ARE MAKING THEIR WAY BACK. HEAR HIM CALLING YOU. ELI! ENOUGH! ENOUGH! THE LIMP AND BROKEN BODY CAN NO LONGER FEEL YOUR ANGER. THEY ALL CAN NO LONGER FEEL YOUR WRATH! She sighed as the pain from her stomach and heart subsided. They are gone. Eli, they are gone.
Jenny sighed with relief as Leah straightened herself out. "What the hell was that about?"
Leah smiled at the girl she always felt deserved the name sister. "Bad food?"