It's All Within My Mind (Creative Scene for English Class)

   He sank his jaws deep into her skin, and slashed her flesh apart, admiring and rejoicing at all the gore surrounding him. The screams, the stark and utter horror enriched him. Her guts splattered in the floor, the dirt tainted red, it was all so appetizing to him, and so he licked the blood off his hands and consumed all within his reach.

“I’m done here”, it echoed from tree to tree.

And he stood up, his shirt stained in red, his nails the color of wine, lying shirtless admiring the night sky.

“Mary if we don’t leave now...Mary give me the other half of the key. If you don’t, we will be next”, I whispered frantically.

“Mary, give it to me.”

No response. Mary left to a place far, far, away.

“Give me the key”, I urged. “Give me the god-damn key!”

 The words ruptured like an explosion at the tip of my tongue.  They echoed from here to there.

“Mary is gone.”

I heard a whisper.  It’s all in my mind.

“Is this the key your precious Mary held?” he asked, mocking my sanity with his snickering, “Come get it little one”.

The tone of his voice changed from high to low; there was so much instability in him as in the rest of his macabre world.

“I need to escape this. I need to go back”, I cried silently from within the shadows. “This is not who I am, this is not my world.”

“No matter how low you cry, I will always hear you, I will always see you, I will always feel you, I live within you”, he laughed maniacally, drowning me in his words, sinking his cold jaws deep into my mind, destroying all hope for my sanity.

It’s all within my head. I fight these battles day to day. It never ends, the outcome never changes.  He haunts me at night. His sick presence I feel as he lies beside my bed, touching my skin with his dirty hands, laughing like a beast at the sight of my fear and horror. All I wanted was the other half of the key, and that half he will never yield. For it holds my sanity, but also his life.

Alternate Ending: The Secret Life of Bees

I got up and opened door.

T. Ray grinned at me. But it was a grin of hatred, a grin accompanied by darting eyes that made me feel frost bitten, as if I was his target, his prey. I acted on impulse, making an effort to jerk the door shut. But instead, I triggered the rage inside him when the door squeezed his fingers in a mere attempt to stop those hungry eyes from consuming my all. With this force so violent, appearing to come from the very pit of hell, he smashed the door vigorously, to then come to his senses and realize that I was there.         

T. Ray made his way in.  “So you thought you could just run away and leave me like that,” He yelled.

 He grabbed me by the arm, his fingers sinking deep into my skin, so deep that it felt like he had dug into my bones.  I could feel the physical pain but underneath was the aching of a heart, the pain of realizing that perhaps what Rosaleen had said that night was true.  Had my dream world shattered at the hands of T. Ray?

He whispered cynically “I’m taking your ass off to Sylvan and when we get there, oh Lilly not even that dirty shit there will save. .” 

“Shut up. I’ve had enough of your crap,” the words rolled off my tongue. How dare he refer to Mary like that? 

T. Ray grabbed my chin “Oh you ungrateful bitch,” slapping me. His chapped hands felt hard like the rocks that made up May’s wall. But these rocks can never compare to T. Ray in any other level but texture. For these rocks take on the pain, and T. Ray inflicts it, just as he had done once more.                        

I watched his shaking hands forage through his pocket to take out a piece of paper with black lines that I could not put together for my vision was blurred by the tears that I kept trying to hold back.  “Where’s Rosaleen?” He demanded. “I will not let her run off just like that after ruining my reputation in town. You don’t know how I’ve been humiliated by everyone because of you and that filthy nigger. She’s leaving with us or at the mercy of Franklin Posey.”

 Rosaleen was surely not here, neither was August. If so, they would’ve heard T. Ray. Of that, I was glad. “What is that in the paper? Franklin Posey’s number?” I asked. He smirked at me in return.

 “She is not here. We took separate paths after leaving Sylvan. I came here to Tiburon, and she went…to some other god-damn place,” I said.                                                                                                                     “You sure?” he asked, grasping onto my arm violently. “You better not be lying to me girl, for if I find out, you’re dead.  I swear.  Now let’s get going and you better not yell or scream. ” He slapped me once more, this time he kicked me onto the floor. I could tell he got a joy out of hearing my faint voice begging him to stop, begging him to leave me alone. “Shut up. Now you see that you walk out of here quiet and calm or I will beat you until you feel the need to keep that mouth of yours shut”.

“Please T. Ray. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I’m staying!” I started out weak, but some force grew in me. It was like if Mary was standing right next to me. As if my hand had freshly touched her heart and woke her up. “I’m staying. I will not go back there to live with someone who doesn’t love me.  You don’t even know my favorite color. It’s because you don’t care about me.” I was angry at that moment. “I was a mistake in your life you see, an unwanted child who was the only reason why my mom stayed with you.  You made her life miserable and that’s why she left you!” Right at that moment I felt him fall deeper into wrath.  His hands clutched onto his own skin with deep fury and his eyes radiated intense hatred. This was not T. Ray. He could’ve been a poor excuse for a dad, but his eyes, his eyes were unrecognizable. At was almost as if the devil himself had taken over his body ready to mutilate all that stood in his way.

His hands unclenched and he gripped my throat.  I felt the pressure of his body pushing me onto the wall. I grasped for air, but could not breathe. My feet began kicking uncontrollably, trying to get at T. Ray and miraculously reach his weak spot in order to set myself free and make a run out the door.

Close your eyes Lilly. I struggled to think. Hail Mary full of grace, our lord is with thee. Mary, I need air.

I felt T. Ray’s hands slowly drift away, followed by a violent crash. My bones cracked as they came in contact with the raw cement, or at least the pain was as if. “T.Ray, where are you going? What are you going to do?”, I tried yelling, but the words irritated my throat, leaving my lips as faint, pathetic whispers.

 He was walking towards the kitchen, enraged. “You’re going to get it Lilly. I’m going to make you regret ever bringing up your mother into this, god damn it. How dare you.” He yelled as he walked away, clenched hands, with a target in mind.

Lilly you have to leave. Listen to me, leave. Run Lilly, run.

 I tried to get up, but my legs felt shattered. Gravity kept pulling me back onto the floor. I could not move.  My eyes rummaged around the room, I was flooded with thoughts of what was, what could have been, what never was, Rosaleen, June, August, Zach, May and my mom. It all pierced my mind at once-all the painful memories, my miserable past.  My body went back to that day.  I was there, watching my mother unpack, my small self helping her.  She was beautiful.  All this was shattered by the rushing sound of heavy footsteps dragging onto the floor. I heard mother, “Lilly, hurry”. But all went by so fast that my eyes shifted from here to there, from T. Ray to mother arguing, to my small self reaching for the gun.

Words straight from my lips echoed onto the room. “Stop, you can’t do this. Mother, forgive me. You can’t do this”

T.Ray walked over, and snatched the gun. He aimed it straight at my mom as if she was an animal. She was at his mercy, and I was laying there, oblivious to all.

Blood spilled onto the floor. T. Ray’s hands, the cause of it. Although his hands were clean, they were really tainted red. The color of blood, the tint of wine lay on his hands.

I closed my eyes once more and snapped back into reality, my reality. Once more I felt the rush, the anxiety. I heard the clashing sound of silverware triggered at the hands of T. Ray. All went by so fast,; T. Ray and I stood face to face, just as he stood face to face with my mother years ago. And so, young blood spilled tonight as shattered pieces of glass collapsed from the sky.

"OhMyGawd, I hate my life" And I Laugh At Your Existence.

What ever happened to the whole concept of keeping one’s private life in private? One’s private life is called private life for some reason isn’t it? The definition of what privacy is should be enough to let an individual know that one’s private life (or sometimes referred to as “personal life”) should be kept in private or confidential; that’s common sense. Today, in our current society, the average person has shifted from this believe and now sees it normal to let the world know what they did last night, who they did last night or what’s going on with them health wise or personal wise. The truth is, I don’t really care. And is it wrong for me to not care? Absolutely not.  I find that one of my biggest pet peeves are people who rant and complain too much about how much their life sucks and people who bring out unnecessary personal issues to public.

        That really annoys me and it’s not because I’m insensitive and inhumane, but because I really don’t feel like listening to someone cry over the smallest insignificant thing. Most of the time people who complain about how much their life sucks, have no idea what it is like to live a miserable life. The majority are ignorant little individuals who are oblivious to the fact that somewhere in the world there is a child who has been emotionally scarred due to abuse of any kind, that somewhere in the world a mother is weary of battling against malignant cancer for the sake of her children, that somewhere in the world people are suffering and dying because of starvation and drought. Everyone goes through things, life is about conquering challenges; yet some challenges are unconquerable and I’ve given examples above.

      Most of the people who approach me with complaints and rants have it easy. Their problems can be easily fixed with patience and perseverance, yet they fail to see this in the middle of their chase for attention. In most of these cases, the individuals I’m referring to are teenagers. One thing that I experience daily is one girl’s daily rant. I’m sick and tired of it; I’ve just learned to tune her out. I know it’s rude, but I’d rather tune her out then flame at her. She usually comes up to me or my best friend when I’m changing for gym looking all depressed and being like “Genesis I hate my life so much” or “Genesis, I wish I wasn’t here today in school, blah, blah, blah”. The part that always makes me laugh is that she really has no reason for “hating her life” or “not wanting to be here” or “feeling sad”. She really doesn’t, she just speaks nonsense for the sake of opening her mouth.  I have addressed her indirectly by telling her that she really has no reason to complain and that she should just cheer up. I don’t want to be any more mean because once I’ve started, I behave like an arrogant and sarcastic asshole. I’ll save that for someone else who is high in their throne.

    About a year ago in health when we were playing a game in which one had to write down on a piece of paper something no one else in the class knew about you. Each student then put the paper in a container and each paper was read aloud and the class guessed who had written it. Two individuals (whose faces I don’t remember) wrote down that they secretly liked to burn themselves. I remember hearing this in health and saying in my head as I laughed, “are they serious, they’re actually going to put something like that down on an identity guessing game and then admit that it’s them with a sense of happiness and normality”.  The idea of this is just so unbelievable that you have to stop and laugh, because there’s nothing better to do.  As a person who’s gone through things, I’d be embarrassed to admit something like this. I know people who have done this and wouldn’t ever think about letting a group of people know that they do such and such. In this case, I consider this personal and if they’re going through this then what they should do is tell their parents or their doctor or guidance counselor rather than telling the whole class in a game. This ruined that class period for me, not because it was sad, but because I really didn’t want to hear that they enjoyed burning themselves. A real person who is going through troubles and burns himself/herself as an escape, wouldn’t admit this, instead, they would hide it. This proves that either they did this for the attention or that their minds are just not well developed to know what is socially acceptable and what is not.

    Last year, the day after Valentine’s in one of my morning classes. This loud kid sitting next to me was telling his friend how he had apparently invited his girl friend to his house to a Valentine ’s Day date. He was obviously saying this aloud to either be funny or sound interesting, but he came off to me as an obnoxious and immature kid. He was saying that his date had been “sucsexful”. That’s obviously not a word, but he tried making it into one. I threw up a little in my mouth, but was left with an amusing aftertaste.  

     I’m tired of angsty teens in general. Some want others to feel sad for them and rant about the “miserable” things they’re going through. I laugh at this, because they fail at it. I don’t think they’re aware that it’s bothering others. If they were, then they would stop and think of what they say obviously. But the whole nature of exposing one’s personal life to public and ranting about what is unnecessary is useless. These people will get nowhere; all they’ll gain is being labeled off as an attention starving individual, or most commonly known as an “attention whore".  I think that if I tried to further explain through words how irritating and amusing this can be, I’d fail miserably. Things like this leave one speechless, there is no worthy rebuttal that can show one’s true feelings on this subject, and in this case I believe that sometimes a plain and simple laughter speaks louder than words.