A saviour’s empty comfort

Was not enough to repay her debt

He was a charlatan for a shield

A lost boy without a clue

His intentions however noble

Let his experience lead him astray

These hopes of a loyal man

Lead a lady to dismay

She had lived years long before his thoughts could even fathom

Anything this boy knew, he would soon choose forgotten

But the girl was lucky, she knew this to be true

Her true saviour had come and not a moment too soon

He had lifted the weight she had held for so long

And she received such relief as if the warmth from the sun

The love she had lost and fought to this day to recover

She tried to get from her man, not realising, it's what had lacked from her mother

Any inadequacies she had found, she projected to him

Not allowing for growth but only punishment for sin

So the moment had come to acknowledge their fate

That love has no timing or illusion of grace

Self awareness is found not by another

but by the brutal reflection of our own hidden agenda

Being that

Laughter hath

Inspired muse's ears

Sound could abound and,

Singing found form.

@kjbaum

The one thing they don’t tell you about is the blood. If I had known there would be so much I would probably have chosen a different method, but I’ve come to find that there is a lot to be said about accomplishing a task with your own two hands, that and a fillet knife.

There’s that immense satisfaction in seeing a task out to the very end. The hours of arduous planning, to the climax of the execution. But then it’s just calm. There is a cold pervading calm that follows that initial frenzy; there’s the screaming to rival a banshee, then the wailing and pleading, they don’t tell you that either, the look of absolute desperation that creeps into a person’s eyes when they realise their life is about to end, it’s actually quite horrific. But then after it’s just silent. A bone chilling quite that could fool you into thinking you had simply closed your eyes and drifted off for a moment; but that smell, that smell won’t let you stay there. It drags you back with the ferocity of a sledge hammer, like fresh maggots feasting on road kill laid out in the sun to bake; the nose is not an easy thing to fool. I was suddenly incredibly grateful that it was my intention to get caught, I don’t know where I would even begin trying to clean this mess up.

But maybe I should start by telling you a little about myself and how all of this came to be. My name is Amelia Chase and I am a teacher at the local High School in a remote town off the outskirts of Connecticut called Hudson High, although for how much longer remains to be seen.

I always knew my death would be by the hands of winter and at the mercy of the snow. As if my cold heart wasn't enough for my family to contend with, my actual death was a blow even my estranged couldn't fathom. It's not like my betrothed should feel bad; how were they even to know that I was drowning. Sure they tried to reach out, and sure, I tried to fit in; but like the seasons before I was destined to fall. #ProseChallenge