PART 1 Do a dead girl a favor would you?   This is for your own safety, so I suppose you would be doing the both of us a service.  Sit where you are, turn off all your coma inducing electronics, and exist in the silence.  This will not take long, honest.  I do understand the number of withdrawals you will have to fight off without your precious Twitter or Facebook, I understand.  Fight those demons as they come but you need to be very attentive during this much appreciated moment of silence. If at any point during this exercise you notice a rhythmic or repeated sound occurring repeatedly, stop reading immediately and get out of your house.  I know, it is your home, this wooden castle is what you work sixty hours a week to afford but this is a warning from a victim.   The noise is how it starts. This is my story. When I was sixteen, I began to experience

Face to face, woman to woman, I stood in front of Tannell the Terror. Her hair was cut and formed into the typical fifty-year-old bob, low maintenance and out of her face. The Terror’s eyes cut through me like a hot blade through your favorite childhood barbie doll. Their blue was deep and divisive, gave one the feeling that there was more going on behind the scenes then there actually was.She said, “That was a very interesting piece you worked up. Was that the truth or did you take certain liberties with that work?”My nerves had made themselves known in the form of goosebumps and fluttering butterflies in my stomach. I suddenly had the odd feeling that there was something disgusting on my face, like a booger that free fell from my nose to my chin or a ton load of rheum in the corners of my eyes. My self-esteem had dropped to the lowest it could without a full system meltdown, but she needed an answer and there was no reason not to tell her the trut

My mother joyfully hummed to herself as she cleaned the dining room and kitchen.  Her humming resonated through the house only broken by the clanging of pots and pans as she dismantled the mountain of dishes from the delicious meal she had prepared.    Jackson sat in front of the television digesting every bit of comical genius the Simpsons had to offer.  His shirt, hell, his entire wardrobe was covered in lasagna stains but that just showed how much he loved it.  Every now and then he would impersonate Ralph, the silly kid from the Simpsons, and yell ‘I ate the purple berries!’ in his goofy voice.  That was the best.  Poor kid had no idea his entire life may depend on Jennifer spending the night.  What if an emergency came up and she had to rush home or she fell ill and had to be rushed to the hospital?  Judging by the seriousness of the ghost boy voice, I was not willing to test him and his omi

The world around me went dark, deep rich dark.  Not a sound could be heard no matter how hard my ears stretch to grasp at any sound near or far.  My family and best friend had just been burned to death in a house overtaken by licking flames and heavy smothering smoke.  Nothing was left to see, the house rested in a pile of what used to be and in it, my allies rested.  The demon boy had vanished from the roof when it collapsed and seemingly decided to rest his case with this nightmare he left me stuck in.  I had never experienced screams like those that had come from the inside of that house.  The panic on their faces, the pain, agony, it was nauseating.  Trapped in that universe of despair had left me still unconscious in the corner of my room with an even tighter grip around the letter opener that I clutched think