How Many Tears Had The Doctor Shed,

Who’s next?

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

to my fellow writers:

i hope you find the strength to finish that chapter, to finish your outline, to edit a bit more, to be kind to yourself

He’s been chasing me for centuries for stealing that bottle. I’m not about to let him catch me now.

You drank a snake oil salesman’s drink only for it to make you actually immortal in the old west now 300 years later you see that same salesman

"I know adverbs are controversial, but "said softly" means something different than 'whispered' and this is the hill I will die on."

Precipice

The sharp click of the switch

reverberates through the air

as you turn off the light in the laundry room

and step into the kitchen.

Your steps stutter to a stop

on the cool laminate sticking to your soles

when your mind catches on

the sliding glass door

in your peripheral. There is a man,

standing on the precipice

of where the porch light’s glow

is swallowed by the dark.

Balaclava and clothes carved from obsidian

tempt the night to draw him in. The dying

bulb above the door is just strong enough

to drag his silhouette into its illumination.

Your gaze latches on

where his should be, instead

two brimming pools of black abyss

stare back, looking through you.

Your head is screaming,

“Don’t look too closely!

He might be real

this time.”

Wind wails against the walls outside,

the house creaks and groans in protest

and leaves scrape bark branches

as their trees bend with the gust.

The sudden sounds steal

air from your chest in

a sharp gasp. Muscles tense

and your eyes slam shut.

Dissipating

in the darkness,

the vision is gone

when they snap open again.

Your recurring apparition

leaves less fear

lingering in your blood now.

So,

Push your shoulders back

and wrench the weight

of anxious paranoia

off your chest.

You'll finish getting

ready for bed but

even though you know

there’s nothing there,

the shadows still seem

to whisper your name

and cling to you

in the night.

- A. Yenzer

Duplex Dream

I grew up in duplexes and trailer homes

A trailer home for two with no fence for the yard

No fence for the yard is no pets, just us two: me and you

Us two, mother and daughter; it takes a village to raise a child

Our village was small. Small but good, dysfunctional but strong

Raised in dysfunction, but strength brought me up; helped me grow despite the odds

The odds that I wouldn’t make it this far; my own doubt that I'd ever see eighteen

Eighteen years don’t seem so long, but I always thought something would cut them short

Cut short but not by my own hands; it was just so hard to look for life ahead

But now, ahead of me a future lies, one I did not expect

My expectations far surpassed what I might have ever imagined

The imagination and dreams of that little girl who struggled to grow

But grew nonetheless from the love I found

Found but never lost in duplexes and trailer homes

- A. Yenzer

Overstimulated

A rumbling, thundering storm

Of sunshine and perfume.

Bright light that feels like daggers

in your eyes and temples;

While you suffocate in the scent of

Flames and fruit.

A tidal wave

Of loud noise and pin pricks.

Swollen eardrums

Throbbing in time to

the sound of blood pounding past them

As needles burn your skin

Taste the only safe space

To harbor love for sweet

And sour, too.

Where bitter and umami,

Break through the pain

To you.

- A. Yenzer

I scream “SCREW YOU”

To the lies I tell myself

Insecurity runs rampant

In a head full of the voices of others

Hatred and jealousy spawn venomous words

And insults that burn

Like acid in the blood

And shred self confidence

So combat fire with fire

Until hate has no more fuel to burn

And the words of others

No longer sting

Spit venom at that hateful voice

Until the infection of their jealous words

Is burned out by the fever of self-love and spite

- A. Yenzer

The concern pinching his brows was a shadow on the flickering interest lighting his eyes as he spoke of my power. “You’ll need to learn control before we can even attempt to teach you anything else. Without it, you’ll continue to burn until it consumes you entirely.”

I’d ventured so far, seen so many who boasted about their ability to help anyone understand the power inside them, but I quickly learned that the fear in their eyes was a warning. I had never been excepted, turned away and run out of their towns and cities every time. Yet, the man across from me didn’t look afraid. Concerned but not afraid. Hope sparked in my chest. And at my fingertips, the static of electricity jumping between them. I curled them into my palms, sniffing them out as I concentrated on my breathing, eyes closed until I felt the magic that had been trying to unfurl lessen again.

He’s right. I know it and it’s why I’m here. What little control over my power I have found isn’t enough to keep me from being a danger to those around me. It’s why I’d set out on this journey in the first place. I couldn’t keep endangering those I loved with my presence, so I packed enough to sustain me and left my mom a note. I promised I would come back when I had control and I refuse to break that promise.

Thoughts of my mom help anchor me, give me the strength to keep my tenuous hold on my power. With the burn of it settled from my chest again, I open my eyes and quickly find myself under his watchful gaze. The concern seems to have faded, replaced by a confident set of his shoulders, his mouth tipping up in one corner and his brows have relaxed. Is he really that reassured by that dismal display of my meager control?

Before I can open my mouth the ask, a sharp two raps on the other side of his office door interrupts me.

“That’ll be your new teacher.” He speaks excitedly, rising to grant entrance to the most important person in my life for… the indefinite future. Who knows how long this will take… No.

Rather than let that anxious thought take root, I rise. Wiping my shaky, sweaty palms on my pants before taking in the figure in the doorway shaking the headmaster’s hand. Inky black hair grazes lean shoulders and bright hazel-green eyes above a freckle-covered nose latch onto mine, their gaze sweeps over me as their smirking lips spread into a full blown grin.

“Damn kid, I could feel your power from outside the room. We’ve got a lot of work to do on you but I get the feeling you’re going to be well work it.” They cross the room in three quick strides and I try not to let my discomfort at being touched make me flinch at the clap of their hand on my shoulder. The reassuring squeeze that follows eases some of that tension but I’m still not used to it.

I don’t have to hide it for long, their attention leaves me as the headmaster speaks again. “Rook will be your master here at the guild. They are your teacher, your guide, everything you need. Stick with them, listen when they try to help you and before you know it, you’ll get to start learning to use your power not just control it.”

I step forward one last time reaching forward over the large, ornate wood desk. I grasp his hand firmly, eager to demonstrate how grateful I am for their help and the chance they’re taking on me. My voice comes out more earnest than I expect but I’m not surprised, “Thank you for this, Headmaster. I won’t let you down.”

“No. I don’t think you will, Ash. Welcome to New Haven’s Villain Guild. I think you’ll do well here. I can’t wait to see how you grow with us.” His grip is equally firm, before he released it, dismissing me and Rook from the room, with a smile and a nod to his office door.

"An initiate's mana could be imagined as a flame. Most are small candles to bright torches. And we at the Order help these flames flourish into something useful... but you're a raging wildfire."

I am aching with the urge to run.

To express my own

personal form of violence.

To pound my feet into the earth

until they burn and bruise.

To cut my arms through the air

and make the world pull away from me.

I am vibrating with the need

to punch and kick and scream.

To make myself a separate

entity, all my own.

To break and destroy things

until there is nothing left

but my broken body.

- A. Yenzer