Chasing Away the Demons by Kayla Stiles (best ereader for comics TXT) 📕

just praying I’ll let it go, I won’t ask?
But I love you so much, your pain is my pain.
Please don’t leave me in this empty darkness.
Please tell me what’s wrong, let me help you.
No Name 9

No Name 9

There she is,
In the middle of the pouring rain,
Sitting
In the middle of an empty park,
Swinging
On a lonely, solitary swing set.
Crying
Tears of painful heartache.
Bleeding Inside
From a Shattered Heart.
The trees thrash in the
Howling wind.
The tears stream
From her eyes,
Mixing with the rain.
She’s so alone,
No one to hold her.
Suddenly,
He appears beside her.
He takes her hands,
He rubs away her tears.
She holds him tight,
Afraid
She might lose him again
If she lets go.
He hugs her close,
Kisses her neck,
Whispers words of love
In her ear.
Together they stand,
In the pouring rain.
Kissing
Passionately and longingly.
Holding
One another close.
Together
Forever more.

No Name 10

No Name 10

I know that I screw everything up,
Don’t try to tell me otherwise.
I know that I’m a monster inside and out,
It cannot be denied.
I feel like I don’t deserve all the good
That resides in my life.
I don’t deserve the house I live in,
The loyal friends I have,
The wonderful family I was born into,
Or even you, the love of my life.
I don’t deserve the good fortune I’ve had.
I hurt and use my friends and such.
I make you cry.
Why do you stay if I’m such a monster?
I know you love me,
Yet I still understand not why.
I love you with all my heart,
Mainly because you were the only one
To stay with me so long, to love me.
But why do you love me?
Why do you stay?
I shouldn’t even matter to you,
Since all I do is hurt you.
That’s all I’m good at:
Writing dark stuff and making people cry.
If I got paid every time
I hurt someone, especially you my love,
I’d be rich.
This thought, as well as the thought
That I might lose you out of my anger,
Haunts me every night,
Every time we argue.
I’m terrified of losing you because I know
That if I lose you,
I’ll never be the same,
I’ll never be able to be truly happy again.
I can put on a fake smile a million times.
It will never change how I feel.
I ache when I’m away from you,
When we get in these fights and I hurt you.
I’m sorry for my mistakes,
My dearest guardian angel,
My loving cuddle bear.
Please stay.
Don’t take breaks. I’ll try to be better.
I promise.
Just please don’t leave me.
Please.
I love you…

Short Stories Section

 Short Stories Section

 

 

A Beloved Girlfriend

A Beloved Girlfriend
10/8/10

     Rose awakens from yet another fitful sleep. Her coughing spasms shake you out of your dream. As you hold your girlfriend in your arms, cradling her to calm her fits, your heart aches for her. She’s so sick. You wish you could do more for her, but can’t. You can only comfort her and kiss her passionately, make sure she’s happy. As you gently mop up the bloody spittle from her chin, you begin to feel like a janitor. Cleaning up her small messes to try to make this easier for her, and in return, you get kisses and caresses and lots of love. You try to spend as much time as possible with your dear Rose. As you cradle her this night, you think back to a few days before, when you were sitting beside her doing homework. At the time, you were doing your vocabulary for English. The word ‘prosaic’ was on the list.
     “Huh,” she giggles. “Prosaic almost sounds like that medicine, Prozac!” She begins to giggle uncontrollably and you join her. She’s so funny and cute, you just can’t help yourself.
     She mentions how “maverick” is also the title of some action movie, and “sluggard” just sounds like a long, white, mushy slug! You playfully tackle her as she makes that last comment. “You’re so dirty,” you whisper against her soft, pale neck.
     She reaches up to your face and brings your lips to hers, gently kissing you. Your lips part as her soft pink tongue flicks in and out of your mouth, causing you to become turned on. Your hands softly caress her curves, her waist. She kisses you a little longer, but pulls away just as her mother walks in.
     As you continue to cradle Rose in your arms in the present day, you smile sweetly at the memory. You look down at Rose’s beautiful, gentle face and notice a look of peace. She’s asleep. You lay her back down and go back to your sleeping bag on the floor.
     I love you, my beautiful, beloved girlfriend, you think as you drift off to sleep yourself.

The Black Mare or the Swan

The Black Swan or the White Mare

     You see her? That beautiful, elegant, swan-like creature ascending the palace steps? She’s beautiful isn’t she? With her soft, silky skin as pale as buttermilk, and her sleek and shiny raven black hair. She holds the edges of her black and red corseted dress in her small, delicate hands. You watch her as her little feet, clad in spiky black stiletto boots, climb up each of the 130 steps. The higher she climbs, the more laborious she breathes as, with each step, she is taken higher and higher above the fragrant lavender fields below. Finally, she reaches you. You hold the door open for her. This noble lady of the highlands merely nods to you. Her forest green eyes never even glance at your murky brown ones. You feel an aching in your breast. What? Did you really expect her, this noble goddess, to look at you and compliment you or even speak to you? You, the humblest of peasants. You, who tends to the king’s patrons and guests. You, who holds open doors for the guests and newcomers. You, who does all this but for a few mere shillings so that you might go home and be able to feed your 4 dogs and 2 foster children. You, who has ash residue on his face. Did you really think that the Lady Isingale would notice you? You, 35-year-old horse master Dietros, with the long brown hair in your warm brown eyes and gentle face. But at least you got a nod. Yes, at least you got something. That’s more than many can say.
     Suddenly, you hear more footsteps click-clacking on the flagstone. Taking a deep, lonely breath, you look up to greet the next newcomer. Your breath catches in your throat as you see another, equally beautiful woman approaching. She is also pale, but her skin is the shade of a white mare’s mane. Her throat is long and graceful, accentuated by a sparkling, diamond-encrusted choker. Her long, platinum blonde curls and waves flow down her back as she walks up in her glistening white gown that shines like a thousand glittering diamonds. You hold the door open for her and bow low to the ground. You feel a slight tap on your shoulder and hear a soft giggle. Looking up, you see the Lady Undiel is gazing at you and her hand is reaching out to you, clutching something shiny. She gently takes your hand and places in your palm a single gold piece that is worth a hundred shillings! You gaze at her in amazement and she giggles again at the bewildered look on your face.
     “See you at the feast, kind and humble Dietros,” the Lady Undiel whispers. And before you can ask her how she knew your name, she sweeps off, gliding across the floor to the throne room.
     You stand there, alone, your heart beating fast with excitement and amazement. She actually talked to you, she handed you a gold piece. But what’s more, she actually called