raving-lunatic99

[raving-lunatic99]

The Man in the Window

“A new couple moved into the home next to mine about a year ago. They seemed happy. They go to work at the same time, cook together, and watch movies. Sometimes the woman would wave at me while she cleaned the dishes. They were young and very much in love.

One night they held a party for a few friends. I watched the ladies drink fruity cocktails while the men drank beers and conjugated around the grill in the backyard. The friends drank and drank, swam and swam, and the young man kissed and kissed another girl in the bedroom upstairs. The woman was too giggly with her friends outside to notice her missing partner

Ater living in the home next to mine for three months, the man seemed distracted and the woman seemed lonely. They no longer came home from work around the same time. They no longer cooked together, the woman would eat alone in front of the TV. There was no more watching movies together, just the woman looking at her phone while reality TV played in the background. The woman was clearly fed up. She no longer waved at me while she did the dishes. They were still young and it wasn't until 11:00 PM did the man come home.

One night when the man came home later, the woman confronted him. She was yelling, he was drunk. She cried, he threw a glass of water at her head. The blood poured and poured, she sobbed and sobbed, and he walked and walked away.

After living in the home next to mine for seven months, the man seemed happy, but the woman was withdrawn. The man still came home late, but the woman waited for him. He watched the TV as she heated up their dinner. They watched TV as they ate. The man went to bed and the woman would do the dishes. She made eye contact with me. She’s paler and thinner than before, the cut was scarred. She smiled weakly at me. And I waved.

One night, the woman left. She has a big bag packed. She seemed excited and the man seemed joyful for her. She left and, not too long after, a different car pulled into the driveway. A new woman, the same one he had kissed at the party, exited the car. The man let her in and they kissed and kisses, and then she sucked and sucked his dick on the couch, and fucked and fucked over the counter by the sink. The woman winked at me as she moaned and I went to bed.

After living in the home next to mine for nearly a year, the man was around less and less. The woman sought comfort in another woman. She seemed happy with her around. They would cook together and watch movies, too. I assumed they were friends until one night the new friend kissed her and she made her friend leave.

That night, the man came home late, like he always did. The woman was crying. What she said made him angry. They fought and fought, he grabbed a knife and stabbed and stabbed her, and then he wrapped and wrapped her body up. He left with her body and a shovel. The man came back hours later. He cleaned and cleaned the mess, then he called and called people, and then he walked and walked to the sink. He met my gaze as he washed his hands.Without a second though, he slammed the curtains closed.”

“Why didn't you report this sooner?” the officer asks me.

“Well, I’m just the man in the window to them.”

#thriller #my writing #short story #murder #love #lust #author #creative writing

[raving-lunatic99]

Monster Within

I have a monster within/ She stays aside, letting me have control/ Until someone says something that upsets me/ That's when she steps forward/ Puppeteering my movements/ I yell, scream, kick, or hit/ And me?/ I can't do anything/ I sit idly by, upset by what I'm seeing/ Wanting the chaos to stop

I have a monster within/ She has ruined most of my relationships/ In an effort to protect me/ I've tried being friends with my monster/ I know she means well/ But she's hard to get along with/ Because she's angry and hurt/ Maybe if someone had loved her earlier/ She wouldn't be so volatile/ I just want the chaos to stop

I have a monster within/ But is she really a monster?/ Sure, she is angry and mean/ But maybe she's just sad/ This monster within/ May just be the child/ Inside of me/ The one that wasn't hugged enough/ Or listened to/ She's really just a girl scared of love

#poetry #my writing #mental health #actually bpd #monster #author #creative writing

[raving-lunatic99]

When the Shoe Drops

When you're a kid things like going to sports tournaments for your grandma seems trifling. You sit there and wait and wait for hours. You don't care about horseshoe throwing. Frankly, you don't see how it's even a sport. No one is running and it's really just you against another person and then a different person and another for many long, excruciating hours. How can this be entertaining?

However, your parents are gone that weekend and your grandma had a prior obligation so, because your grandpa is so loving and supportive, you and your siblings are in a strange big building with people tossing horseshoes.

There is only the ring of horseshoes pounding dirt, rock, and stakes echoing in your mind. You're not sure how the game works, just that it's really noisy and those noises give you a headache. Your tummy is also rumbling because your loving grandpa has neglected to feed you in a while. The three of you try to watch but turn to toys, coloring books, and even hitting each other to occupy your brains.

By the time the tournament is over, you're so relieved to b going home. You hope that you never have to go to another one, but you will. Until there weren't anymore for you to go to. Because your grandma is aging and getting diagnosed with cancer and you're old enough to stay home alone when your parents leave town.

You now understand how much that sport meant to her and that it really is a sport: You calculate mentally and work physically to throw the horseshoe just right and.... DING! You hit the stake. You now know that your grandma was really good at this sport. You know that it connected her to something she lost.

Your grandma grew up playing it with her dad. It made him proud. She dominated her opponents (only giving them some purposeful misses to not take their entire dignity). However, your grandma lost her dad way too soon and her passion left her. That was until she met your grandpa.

You now know why your grandparents had a court set up at home; your grandpa built it as an act of love and support. You now know that she dragged you and your siblings along to her tournaments because she loved it and wanted to share that love and passion with you.

You now remember the good times: How you got to eat unlimited junk food while there (something your parents would never let you do at home), how your grandma gave you red hot cinnamon gum (which you hated but she loved), how your grandpa's eyes shined as he watched the woman he loved decimate her opponents (it was the only form of healthy love you saw growing up).

You now know all of this because the cancer won and she died so now people talk about her more than she ever talked about herself because your grandma was a selfless woman; she kept things to herself. What you did know about her, you didn't learn from her telling you because she was too busy showing you and what she didn't show you, she wrote.

And in what she wrote, you learned more about her than you ever saw. You learned that she was just like you; you grew up to be a reflection of her. She was compassionate, an artist. She was strong and independent, brave and dedicated.

But most importantly of all: She was your grandma.

#grief #your grandma #the past #my writing #sports #horseshoe #down memory lane