hurryupimstarving2 - Tumblr blog

[hurryupimstarving2]

I’m begging you just follow my real blog

On Call Lover

I need an on call lover. 

Someone to telephone in the lateness of the nightness;

When I ask if they’re free they’re with me

With arms full of feathers to lay my head upon

And soak with my tears;

Someone to whom I can spill the contents of my heart

And be sure pieces will be treated like a work of art;

Like fragile fragments of china only temporarily

Fractured waiting for the gold to fit them

Back together.

But also someone distant;

Never clingy but consistent

With whom I can say “Never leave me” and 

“Go away”;

Someone who will be there in lateness of the nightness

But only when I ask;

Because what will I be when put back together

Other than someone’s happily never never.

These pieces weren’t beautiful to begin with

Not even gold can fix it.

I need someone close enough to let go.

I need an on call lover.

[hurryupimstarving2]

Hand Outstretched 2

The part 2 nobody asked for

———

I’d like to say that was the last time. I’d like to say I never saw that outstretched hand again but that’s a lie. After the first time it would come to me whenever I was alone. And each time I feed it. Expect for tonight.   

I’m sure that drug withdrawals would hurt less than it felt to not have her near anymore. You hear all these things about ‘the bed being colder’ but it’s true. Laying here without her felt different like a puzzle with a piece missing or someone without an arm. It’s one thing to lose something but another to know it won’t ever come back. As I’m sitting here, making friends with the bottom of beer bottles, it comes. My closet door is ajar and that’s all it needs. The ghostly hand without a body hovers in the darkness begging for food. I can barely make it out through my drunken stupor. I pat my jeans looking for the piece of candy I keep for times like this but something stops me. 

“Why don’t you just go away?” I ask it sarcastically. I never saw a mouth so how the hell was it supposed to respond. But I’m too drunk to care and go on with my rant. 

“What the hell are you anyways? Always popping up and demanding stuff. You’re just like her ya know. Always asking for more and more and more. Well I’ve got nothing left to give! Get out of here I’m not gonna feed you!” With my last words, I grab the half drunk bottle on the floor and hurl it at the hand. It doesn’t flinch but closes its palm and retreats to the shadows. I smile proud of what I’ve done and take another swig of beer.

Eventually sleep overtakes me, or was it the booze? Whatever it was, it had me passed out in that cold empty bed. But then I hear a smash. It sounds almost like a gun firing and I jolt awake. The sudden movement causes my head to hammer and I grab it to ease the pain. When I can finally see straight I look around in a frenzy but nothing is wrong in my room. The door is still closed, the chair is filled with clothes and the closet is still open. I turn to look out the window by my bed but the streets are still asleep. It’s too dark for anything to be awake right now, including me. I assumed it was a cat getting into my trash and brushed it off as a tomorrow problem. As I get back into bed it happens again. That smash that rings throughout my room. It’s shattering, ear piercing, and makes my body turn towards the source of the noise. I’m facing my closet but it’s too dark to see inside it. But what I can see is my bedroom floor and three bottles of my six pack are gone. A chill runs down my spine and fills my body with ice. The hand. I didn’t feed the hand. My mother’s words came to me but in a language I couldn’t understand. What had mother always said? Something about hands, hands outstretched. What was I supposed to do with hands?

“Never bite the hand that feeds, and always feed the hand outstretched.”

Panic. Panic fills me. It slithers under my skin and plays at every nerve like a cataphonic symphony. The drums are beating and the gong smashing. I didn’t feed the hand. 

At my sudden realization, I hear shards of glass knock against each other in the closet. I scurry towards the edge of my bed putting as much distance between me and the closet as possible. Slowly, incredibly slowly the door opens. First I see the hand, it’s as pale as the day I first saw it. But there’s something different. At first I don’t know what it is but then I see it. Attached to the hand is an arm and with it a body. I want to scream but nothing comes out. I’m trapped in a prison of my own fear five feet from the door but stuck in place. It crawls, no crawl isn’t the right word. But it moves out of the closet hands first. Then comes the head, a horribly smooth thing twisted at an angle reserved for dead people. It’s white, so stark it blinds me and I have to squint to look at it, I don’t want to look at it. Next is the body pale as the rest but facing upwards as it moves on all fours like an upside down bug who’s learnt that it can snap its limbs to walk again. I’m so scared I can’t even process that it’s coming closer and closer towards me until we’re face to face. It’s inches away from me and all I can do is stare before a gap forms in the middle of it. It rips apart like a fleshy slime, a wet slapping sound as it adjusts itself. It forms a mouth but one too big to be human. The thing smiles at me and I can see human teeth far too perfect to be real. All I can do is stammer out,

“Do you want something?” It only grins wider before the mouth comes down on my shoulder and biting in. I feel teeth, teeth tearing into my flesh. Teeth knock against bone and ripping. Swinging its head back it takes a piece of me with it. Blood follows in a trail of red. It’s everywhere, filling my vision, my nose, swimming in my ears. The thing is coated in it, no longer pale white but red, ruby red with my blood. I’m screaming now, screaming like a pig before the slaughter, struggling to get away before it pins me down with cold hands and takes another chuck.

I didn’t feed it so it had every reason to bite.

[hurryupimstarving2]

Hand Outstretched

My mother always told me, “Never bite the hand that feeds, and always feed the hand outstretched.”

I always thought this was some kind of proverb. Something about being thankful and helping others. That is until I turned fifteen.

My father and I were out for a walk one morning but I had wandered off to find some mushrooms. While strolling in the woods, far from my father, everything was quiet. So quiet that it made me stop and listen. There were no birds singing this morning and not even the wind whistled through the trees. No branches snapped and no voices called. All the sound I could hear was my own breathing and whatever sound mist made. The silence was closing in all around me and realizing I had gone too far, I called out to my father. No answer. I tried again. A whisper. It was quiet around me but the voice was more so. Almost as if it was ringing in my head. The noise it made, if you can call it that, made a shiver go down my spine. I felt my palms get sweaty but before I had time to process my fear it called again. I shook away the anxiety and told myself it was my father calling out to me. So I followed it.

Deeper and deeper it took me into the woods until I couldn’t tell north from south, or where I came from. I had nothing else to go off but the faint callings. Wandering through bushes and trees for what felt like an eternity and a half I found a wall of sticks. I couldn’t see above it but it was just climbable. It didn’t end as far as I could tell, it kept going into the forest. I walked along it thinking I might find my way out if I found the end. But as I walked I saw something sticking out of the sticks. It was a hand.

Unnaturally pale and unmoving. It stuck out of the wall with its palm opened. I backed away. Fear ran through my body and shut down my mind. I stood there frozen with terror unable to move just like the hand. That is of course until it did. Pointing at me it beckoned me close and before I knew it my feet were moving. I was in front of it now. I couldn’t see a body attached to the hand, it seemed to come out of the darkness. As I took a hesitant step closer to look at it, it motioned to me again. This time moving its fingers in and out of its palm. It kept this up until I asked,

“Do you want something?” At that it stopped and held its outstretched hand to me. Patting myself down I hadn’t brought much with me on this walk. But what I did have was a crumpled granola bar in my pocket. Grabbing it, I tentatively dropped the snack in the hand before scampering back. Its bony fingers closed in on the bar one by one before sinking back into the wall unseen.

My father found me after that. He looked disheveled and his eyes welled up when he saw me. He was in different clothes which confused me but before I could ask he scooped me into a large hug. Through choked sobs he asked where I had been. I told him I had been in the woods at that I only left him for a few moments when he shook his head.

“Son you’ve been gone for ten days.”

[hurryupimstarving2]

Purposely

I love you on purpose.

Every word I utter in your ear,

Every ghosting of my hand over your skin,

I do it intentionally.

I choose to love you.

I am a bird happy in her cage,

You may open the door but I want to stay

Here a prisoner to your love.

Shackle me down and give me the key,

I won’t leave.

[hurryupimstarving2]

So tumblr is really killing my vibe with this no switching main blogs. So I’ve moved this blog because I really wanna comment and interact with people. So please go and follow @hurryupimstarving it would mean so much to me!!

[hurryupimstarving2]

Fairey Circle

They say if you turn off on I52 after the train tracks and wander deep into the woods you’ll find her. She’s been there for years and will be there for many more. They say her dance is so lovely you’ll want to stay forever, some have. But her dance isn’t for you.

To find her you’ll need to come alone, the woods don’t like too much noise. Bring enough food and water to sustain yourself, you never know how long you’ll be in there. Many have died getting lost in those woods and nothing edible in there is for you. There’s no real directions in the woods so I can’t tell you how to find her. You’ll just have to let the trees take you.

You’ll know you’re close when you start to hear singing, only it won’t sound like singing to you. The trees will echo and the birds will call and you’ll hear chimes floating on the wind. The music of the other side will surround you and fill your ears with the most angelic noises you’ve ever heard. Just when you forget why you entered the woods you’ll spot the clearing. There in the middle of a circle of mushrooms and flowers she’ll be twirling in the inbetween. Beings of both sides will be there but pay them no mind, they simply want to enjoy the performance. 

She’s a beauty beyond all compare. With dark brown hair and even darker skin, she is the embodiment of nature’s spirit. Bangles jangle from her wrists and her skirts whirl around her in an endless fury of fabric. She doesn’t open her eyes and doesn’t need to see to know the steps. Her dance is wild but orderly. There are steps but each one is new and unexpected. She looks so at peace with her graceful limbs and cheerful audience you almost wouldn’t notice her bloody feet. 

Humans can’t dance forever but do it for the fey. She must have stumbled into the circle by accident and been trapped ever since. A pretty little dancer in a music box like a delicate caged bird. Her tragedy is so intoxicating and I reached for it like an alcoholic reaches for another drink. I drink in the music and the dance and the magic. 

But what of me you ask? Why I’m the skeleton in the corner leaned up against the tree. I’m just as trapped as she.

[hurryupimstarving2]

The Hosting

“I’ll be ready soon!” I shout into the empty bedroom. From there I move to the living room and yell the same phrase to an audience of no one. I do this in every single room in my home until I reach the dining room. 

I blacked out the windows in there, just as the book had said. Ria always told me that the book, Spirits and Friends, was bad news but Ria isn’t here to tell me otherwise. I go to the paper, pen, watch, and three matches I set on the table and copy the text from the book. It reads,

“You’re invited. A gathering hosted by Eric. Takes place from 1am to 2am. Bring your friends!”

With that I walk to the light switch by the door and tell my ‘friends’, “I’m ready! Come on in!”

I flick off the lights. Sitting with my back towards the door I count. 10, 9, 8… 1. I strike a match. It’s the only source of light in the entire house but I can’t see anything. There is a wall of black around me and I feel a gust of wind blowing on my back. I shiver, half willing to stop now, but remembering what the book said I call out, “I’m so glad to see you! Thank you for coming!”

The book says to let the match burn as long as I can bear it. Watching the flame slowly make its way down the match is more painful than any heat. It eats up my seconds and my courage with it. I don’t want any unwelcome guests. The fire hits my thumb and I shake it out. I do the same thing again one more time, calling out and striking a match. But this time when I say the greeting I feel something. I feel the darkness take a step towards me. 

“Now everyone is here!” I say as I light the last match. I let the flame singe my fingers again and when it goes out I hear her.

“Thank you.” Her voice is so soft I almost don’t catch it. I can sense her behind me, her warm presence and the smell of her vanilla perfume. I can picture her in my mind. She’s in those jeans I love and that top reserved for cool summer nights. Hair pinned up in a messy bun and light pink lipstick on those lips I loved to kiss. I want to turn around but I know better.

“Hey, Ria.” 

“You shouldn’t have done this, Eric. What would’ve happened if you got an unwelcome guest?” I remember the way she used to scold me about the spirit world, saying it was never something I should mess with. I always listened to her, until she left. The way she talks reminds me of the old days. I can’t help but smile. I missed her voice.

“But I didn’t, I got you.” I say jokingly but I can tell she’s unimpressed. 

“You could’ve gotten anyone. You didn’t even know if you would get me. This was stupid and you know it.”

“If this let me talk to you again then it wasn’t stupid.” I know Ria’s sighing even if I can’t see it. She’s disappointed I can tell by the energy around me but a chance was all I was looking for if it meant having her near me again. Even in these unusual circumstances. Her dead and me sitting alone in the dark.

“You have to let me go, Eric.” 

“You think I don’t know that? I tried for so long to forget you but when I close my eyes,” I have to pause and bite my lip to keep myself from sobbing. Tears well up in my eyes and I shrink into myself. “When I close my eyes I see you and that truck. Over and over again. I can’t forgive myself for not stopping you.”

“That wasn’t your fault.” Her hand is on my shoulder. It’s colder than I remember. Ria was always warm.

“Isn’t it though? I should’ve been the one who-”

“Don’t talk like that, please.” I’m crying now. It’s the ugly type of crying that’s more of a release than anything else. I put my hand on her’s but I faze right through it. I only cry harder.

“You’re my regret. I regret that you died. I regret that you can’t graduate. I regret that you can’t become a doctor. I regret that you’ll never grow old. I regret it all.”

“Eric, terrible things happen all the time but life has a way of making good come from the bad.”

“You were the only good. Losing you broke my heart.”

“And you’ll rebuild it. You were always good at springing back. But to do that you have to forget me. I’m not coming back and it’s not good to dwell on things that aren’t real anymore.”

“Don’t tell me to forget you like everything we had was meaningless.”

“You know why I was okay with dying?” I shake my head too choked up to say anything else. “It was because I knew you were gonna keep living. I knew you were gonna graduate. I knew you were gonna become a trillionaire,” She laughs a little. “And I knew you were going to grow old.” 

“I miss you, Ria. So much.” She hums knowingly. Glancing down at the table I feel for the watch. I can't make out the marks of the watch but Ria seems to know because she says,

“It’s almost 2am now. End the session, Eric.” I shake my head again.

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.” Taking a deep breath I try to recall the last steps in the guide. With a shaky voice I say, 

“Thank you for coming. Goodbye.” The darkness leaves and Ria with it. The cold that lingers with her is gone and I’m thoroughly alone. I sit there for a long while, so long I think the dawn must have broken already but moving the curtains it’s still dark out. I move towards the door and the light switch. I step out of the darkness and turn back on the light.

[hurryupimstarving2]

Villainous

I want to love you villainously.

To hold you in my arms and never let go.

To hold you until you can’t breath and 

The only oxygen you get is from me. 

To light you on fire so I can watch you glow. 

To clip your wings and sew you into me.

But you are a free thing. 

Something wild I can never quite grasp. 

So I won’t ever cage you. 

Beauty is meant to be free but know that

I will burn every tree to the ground 

so you’ll always fly back to me. 

[hurryupimstarving2]

I’ve weirdly gotten attached to Layton from “124″ so there may or may not be more content on him and potentially Alice. Stay tuned

[hurryupimstarving2]

124

Dearest Alice,

124 was quite strange yesterday. I suppose being wrenched back to the world of the living will do that to a man. It certainly was regrettable that he died but that was out of my control. He was showing much progress in the past week. Number 124 had begun to master his hand eye coordination and was able to pick up a book yesterday. Not only that but he had begun to attempt communication! It mostly consisted of squeals and flailing arms but in this field one must celebrate the little things. 

He did not have such behavioural issues in the past and it’s not quite clear what caused him to lose his temper. 123 was much more calm but, then again, 123 did nothing more than drool and stare vacantly. I’m sure with the next one I will be more successful. 

I wonder how many times you’ve read that already, my beloved Alice? 

You can imagine my surprise yesterday when I walked into the lab and found 124 in a frenzy. He had torn out chunks of his own black hair and bloodied his fingers scratching the walls. My presence seemed to only aggravate him more for he came charging at me. Knocking me down he began beating me with his fists and even broke my glasses. But do not be alarmed, dear, I wasn’t severely harmed. In fact, after 124’s berserk attack he began to cry. Sitting on my chest the creature started wailing and pounding his chest. It was more animalistic than man and sounded like the cries of a lone wolf. I stared in awe but then he was enraged again. Grabbing my hand he pressed it against his chest. There was a look in his eyes that I can only describe as desperate. There was an intense need behind his eyes but for what I don’t know.

“What is it that you want?” I asked and he wailed again. I feel as if he might have been trying to communicate something to me but with his lack of words I failed to understand. Then he displayed to me something utterly amazing. With his bloody hands he drew! The picture was crude but I could make out square with a cross in the middle. 

“A window?” 124 nodded excitedly. “You want to see a window?” I will remark that there are no windows in the laboratory as it is in the cellar but I can’t help but ponder the peculiarity of the request. I still don’t know why he wanted a window. But thinking of the amount of progress made in this one day I decided to oblige him.

“Alright, follow me but you must promise not to be violent again.” Again 124 nodded and with that I unlocked the cellar door. Leading him upstairs was a challenge as he had never seen stairs before and whimpered at the bottom like a puppy. But with some encouragement he began to climb. Once at the top I waved 124 up and when he saw the window by the door he raced for it. At first, I thought he was attempting to escape and chased after him but when he stopped at the glass pane I was relieved. 

He stared in awe of the outside world. It is winter here, love, and the trees are barren and only snow covers the ground. But seeing 124’s face, you’d think he was gazing upon heaven. The creature’s expression lit up and for the first time I witnessed his lips curve up. Then he began to cry. Not the same as before, these were silent tears and I don’t think 124 was even aware of them. He stared so long and so hard I dared not disturb him. We stood there for quite a long time, 124 watching the world, me watching 124. 

But then he turned to me, his smile painted in salty tears and smashed the window. Before I could even react, 124 had taken up a stray piece of glass and, taking one last look at me, slit his throat from side to side. Blood leapt from the gash and he fell limp on the floor. All that was left of experiment 124 was a pale limp corpse. His scalp red and sparse and hands tore to shreds. It was almost beautiful, the contrast of red against his skin the smile still lingering. 

What a pity, my dear, that I shall have to start again. It is such a tragedy when you grasp perfection only to have it ripped from your hands. I had made a man.

Love your most devoted,

Layton

[hurryupimstarving2]

Reblog if

It’s 104% okay to come to your DM and just say, “Hi, can we be friends?” And then start asking you random questions.

[hurryupimstarving2]

i’m looking for writeblrs!

hi!! i’m percy, and i’m looking for writeblrs who:

want to be tagged in tag games!! (please!! i’m running out of people to tag)

post about original writing, aesthetics, wip intros, etc etc 

reblog others’ writing

post about writing memes / writing positivity

i’m not super picky though, i just want new writeblrs to follow!! even if you don’t fit the points above, reblog this and there’s still a high chance i will check you out.

i also want to get into some new wips! i love fantasy, sci-fi, superheroes, found family, enemies to lovers… well, again, i’m not picky. reblog this and tell me all about your wips!!

[hurryupimstarving2]

Lasagna

Me and lasagna have a strange relationship. 

The first story was when I passed by my best friend’s house and I smelt pasta. Knowing I had a chance of getting food I rang their doorbell. Her younger brother (who didn’t really know me at the time) answered the door. I asked,

“Are you making lasagna?”

“How did you know?” Moral of the story I joined them for dinner and now this story is all they talk about.

Second story was when I went on a weekend trip with friends and we had frozen lasagna but SOMEONE forgot to defrost it. So it took three hours to cook and with no real way to get more food I bit my friend’s cards, another one’s glasses and hand. And when it was finally cooked I ate two pieces before the others had even eaten one.

I like lasagna.

[hurryupimstarving2]

Weed

So now that weed is legal in Canada let’s talk about my first experience with weed. (Please for the love of god don’t do what I did)

Scene: my best friend’s basement on a Sunday night.

We start drinking just socially ya know. We have a few peach schnapps with ginger ale (it’s amazing btw) but here’s the thing, I FORGOT TO EAT EARLIER. Then my drunk butt remembers that my friend has bought capsules to give to our other friend for her birthday so she could try them out. I look to her and say,

“You have weed, right?” She says yes and just like that we’re off to the races!! I take one capsule. First time ever mind you and I’m already drunk, which I’m told is a rookie mistake. SO I GET WASTED. 

Next thing you know I’m one the floor dying but do I stop drinking? NO WAY. Now I’m five+ bottles deep and it all goes black. 

Flash: I’m dancing.

Flash: I’m one the couch eating chicken nuggets.

Flash: I’m giving relationship advice.

Flash: It’s four in the morning and I’ve passed out on the couch. I really want water so I walk up and get it.

Flash: It’s five am and I think I see a ghost. Go back to sleep.

Morning: I have class at ten and I’m a good child so I make it a point to go to it. I eat a piece of toast at her house and while I’m there I greet her brother and dad good morning. Just as I’m about to leave they ask me if I’m feeling alright to which I respond,

“I’m feeling great so I’m probably still drunk!” Exit me.

[hurryupimstarving2]

H*ckory F*rms

Now how did I afford a study abroad trip, you ask? Well I’ll tell you. It was by working a ridiculous amount of jobs. I left in January so you best believe I worked some seasonal jobs. One of which sold staple Christmas food. (I’m not gonna say the company in case they want to rehire me (your boy needs money))

I met some weird people working there. #1 there was Jake, the manager of the cell phone accessory story across from my kiosk. He flirted with me, and my five other coworkers. Along with every Asian girl at the food court and some girls from Davids Tea. Rumor has it he assaulted someone in the storage room hallways but you didn’t hear it from me.

Then there’s the customers!! I quickly realized how serious people were about this company because one lady came by every week and bought seven things of turkey sausage. The first time I met her she shook my hand, introduced herself, and told me she would be there every week. I asked if she ate all the turkey sausages she bought and she responded with, “What else would I do with them?”

The job was actually pretty fun but let me tell you inventory was hell on Earth. I had to count every single piece of inventory INDIVIDUALLY. Both in the back and at the kiosk. Which meant taking down each display to count it and they put it back. My coworker has a picture of me crying in front of the kiosk when we finally finished.

[hurryupimstarving2]

Lake Bunyonyi

So during my internship in Uganda I was able to use the weekends to travel around the country. One weekend I decided to go to Lake Bunyonyi with a few others from my program/house. Lake Bunyonyi is in the western part of Uganda near the Rwanda border and boyyyy is it beautiful. As much as I loved the capital city, Kampala, cars honking at all hours and pollution really get to you. The air was so fresh there and my Albertan ass missed the mountains. I stayed at a campground on one of the many islands in the lake and it was so funny trying to show my housemates how to take a bucket bath. (if you know you know) The highlight was watching the sunset from one of the highest hilltops. BUT GETTING THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE. The guide looked me in the windows of my souls and told me it would be a seven minute hike. Seven minutes my ass!! It was an hour long hike up a steep incline. Guys, I was huffing and legit thought I was gonna die. And as we finally stopped to take a break we saw some kids from the local village. These kids were ten, tops, carrying bundles of wood up the hill. They started laughing cus stupid foreigners struggling up a hill they walk up daily is funny. I’ve never been schooled so hard by children.

[hurryupimstarving2]

So I just got back from an exchange/internship program in Uganda. And boy do I have some stories for you.