Oh, man. School starts next week, and yet I'm staying at home, all alone with my television dramas and thick fantasy books (City of Lost Angels, ftw). I ought to be doing something productive, like fix my school supplies, but I doubt that I'll be needing them on the first day. The teachers are likely to have different requirements for their class from last year's. It doesn't hurt to pray to be placed in a good section. I'm excited and anxious; I just hope I don't have a nervous breakdown! 

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Lol I really want to talk to someone, but gosh, my personal conflict and the circumstances are holding me back. I'm trying to reach them through some friends, but my friends don't have load. At all. I feel so lonely. :( I'm still trying to understand what I feel and want at the moment. When you let go, you don't expect what's gone to come back. But what if it does? In the meantime, I should just occupy myself with other thoughts. -sigh-

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I need to drink a glass of water. My writing doesn't seem coherent at the moment. :))

Household Wolves

I wake up to the sound of howling. I am half hidden underneath the yellow bedsheets that smell like nightmares and daydreams. Milkshake sits beside me, his black, beady eyes grinning shamefully like the unadulterated smile fixed on his face. Like a heavy cloud hanging from above, the ceiling stares down on me. It's dim inside my room, but thankfully the night light's still beaming beneath my bed, shining like the wispy stars outside my window. 


I turn to my right and look at the clock on my nightstand. It's 11:30. The numbers glow green. 


The howling outside my bedroom softens. I squirm a bit and then, I lay still, all quiet except for my hushed breathing. There's nothing else that I can hear. Reluctantly, I twist to lay on my back and close my eyes, concentrating everything on my hearing. And I wait, I listen, for what seems like agonizing minutes.


My ears begin to bleed at the screaming silence. With the heavy weight of sleep dangling on my eyelids, I start to doze off.


But then the howling starts anew. The two wolves begin to fight.


"You unfaithful, cheating liar!" screeches the first wolf. I listen closely to its shrill growl. It's a female. "The phone calls, the late night shifts, the smell of sickening perfume--you think I wouldn't find out? You two-faced bastard!"


The howling of the second wolf is much deeper, a baritone low. "Shut up, Jo. Just, shut up! Sit down and let me explain." From inside the bedroom, I imagine the second wolf snarling.


"You don't need to explain anything, Mark. Your stupid shit---that's enough for me. I want you to leave. Now." Female Wolf snaps back in a wavering tone. As if she were on the verge of tears. There's a lengthy pause after Female Wolf's line. I suck in a huge, quiet breath and wait.


I hear a low, raging rumble outside, like a swarm of angry bees flocking after the disturbance of their nest. The starchy, yellow sheets cover me in a protective cocoon, but it doesn't protect me from Male Wolf's upset gnarl. 


"Me, leave? You stupid bitch! This is my house. I think you should be the one leaving for good!" 


Female Wolf snarls loudly in disagreement, and soon, I find that Hell is just outside my bedroom door. I hear a marring cacophony of growls, howls, gnarls, and other unearthly sounds echoing throughout the small house. Outside my room, a lot of  things are being upset---the chairs dragged around, that tacky purple vase thrown, books crashed to the floor, the priceless china broken. I pull the pillow over my head, trying to drown out the sounds. My mind's blank until I remember the photos atop the fireplace and hung on the walls. What if I wake up in the morning just to find a portrait of me on the floor, staring from underneath the weight of shattered glass?


Then it all stops. The howling, the thrashing, the clash of battered wolf bodies outside my room---it all stops. I hear only my breath competing beneath the pillow. All is quiet. Until a large, thunderous thump resonates and dies softly. Something, something huge and heavy, had fallen down, defeated, or worse, maybe dead. 


I listen to the shifting motion that paces near the door. Low murmurs emanate continuously, like droning machines. I recognize the tone--it is Male Wolf outside, shuffling back and forth the corridor, standing over Female Wolf's crumpled body. Female Wolf is just laying on the floor, not moving, not growling in defense, but moaning softly, and I grow scared. The rattling of the doorknob doesn't help my fear. I know Male Wolf is standing outside, and now he wants to get inside. I pull the sheets over my rigid body and lay in wait as the doorknob's shaking becomes a mere, haunting lullaby.


I notice that the night light's shimmer is outshined by the darkness streaming in from the hallway.