Vampires will never hurt you
The Dream
The Dream
Friday September 14th, 2004
"No, you can't be serious mom." I said shaking my head in disbelief. "She couldn't have."
"I'm sorry honey, but it's the truth." She said with a sad, endearing look. "I know you loved her very much, and what's important is that she knew that too. And I don't doubt for a second that she didn't love you back."
"She couldn't have... we just saw her two months ago." I whimpered, fighting away the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes. "Mom, no."
"I'm sorry baby, but she just collapsed. The doctor said she felt no pain." She said wrapping her comforting arms around me and kissing the top of my head. "And I have some news- some good that'll come out of her death."
I pulled away from her embrace and gawked at her,shocked that she would even suggest that anything good could come from me losing my grandmother. The anger was rushing through my veins, how dare she. "Nothing good can come from her death! How that thought could've crossed your mind is beyond me."
"Oh Frankie, baby I didn't mean it like that. Come here," Cooed my mother as she beckoned me back towards her open, inviting arms. Finally I gave up on resisting her and I fell back into her embrace. "You know how she always came over here and how we never went over there?"
I thought for a minute, and it struck me for the very first time; I had never seen nor even questioned where my grandmother lived. Rattling my brain I thought I must've knew where she lived, she was one of my best friends. When my mind came up blank I looked at my mom, know she lived in Jersey but don't know where or what her house looked like. "What the fuck, mom?"
"Well back in 1800's our family had built a mansion that loomed in the woods. A grandfather of ours had built it for his bride in 1800 and the house is almost 200 years old. Well your grandmother had lived in the house and they needed to give someone the house and in grandma's will it says it's for us. We're moving, Frank." My mom explained quickly. "By next week we'll be in New Jersey."
"You're fucking shitting me?" I said, still attempting to comprehend what she is telling me. I'm moving. I'm moving across the country and giving up everything I once knew. The house my mother, my grandmother lived in. The house my grandmother died in. Most teenagers would be pissed or upset. Not me. I don'y know how I feel about it. I don't mind leaving all my 0 friends behind and moving somewhere new.
"I'm not shitting you, school over there started and I am not delaying you anymore school. I already called your school, you're fucking done with that shit hole."
"Thanks and yeah it was a massive shit hole." I said as I shakily ran my fingers through my hair. My tears had dried and I calmed down a bit. I was starting to feel bad for yelling earlier. "So she's not going to have a funeral I'm guessing?"
"No they already buried her yesterday. Frank she had only us." She said, "Oh and by the way, the house has it's own family cemetery. But don't worry too much it's not like a Pet Samatary or anything like that."
"The house has it's own graveyard?" I asked, more to myself than my mom. "Is that where they buried her?"
"Yeah, it was written in her will that she wanted to be buried there. Or she was going to come back and haunt the living hell out of whoever didn't put her with her family." She chuckled, "She had a strong will, that woman."
"So it's like a mansion type house, right?"
"Yep, pretty big house. I remember growing up there and getting lost every day." She smiled thinking back to the memory, her eyes crinkling slightly. "I don't remember how many rooms it has but it's definitely more than five rooms."
"Like rooms in general or bedrooms?"
"Oh Jesus the house has more than ten rooms. It has it's own library, a study, living room, dining room, kitchen, attic, huge ass basement, quite a few bathrooms, and more. It has stables and shit."
"Huge ass basement you say?"
"Off limits, you're getting a normal bedroom. Attic and basement aren't to be played around with." She warned and she had a far off look in her eye, as though remembering the supposed horror of the attic and basement.
"Pssh okay, now anything else drastic you wanna tell me? Am I adopted? Is my father really alive? Did you kidnap me when I was young and now you're pretending to be my mother?"
"Yes, no, and yes." She said smirking and turning back to the food she was making.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked her but all she did was laugh. I shrugged and walked down the small hallway to the basement door, also known as my bedroom door. As much as I hated living in Cali, I was going to miss this room more than I'd like to admit. This room has been my room since I was about six. Nothing beat getting beaten up and coming home to my old mattress on the ground to curl up on and curse the world. The room wasn't anything special it was dark and drafty and my mom hated it down here but it was roomy with all my posters strung up everywhere and my comics piled up in random stacks.
Leaning against the wall I looked around my small basement room. I let my thoughts wander to the house that was waiting for me back in Jersey. What was it going to look like? How big is it really? Does it look like an old run down house? Is she just pulling my leg and we're actually moving to suburban Jersey? The thoughts ran holes in my brain and I decided to leave the matter to when we actually move. Which should be in two days or so, if I did the math correctly. It takes roughly three days to reach New Jersey from my house, so we'll be there probably the day before I have to go to school. Fun.
I sighed and looked at my clock, 4:30 it read in red, bold lettering. I walked over to my guitar which lived next to a notebook under my bed. Once I had my guitar, Pansy, on my lap I lazily strummed her strings, in my head was a killer song idea but I couldn't sing to save a life, that was my opinion anyway. Maybe if we had a bit more money I'd get some lessons but for the mean time I have y scratchy 17 year old voice.
With my notebook open I started to read the lyrics I had already written and the chords that go with the words. I really couldn't concentrate on the words though because my mind kept racing back to the grungy state of New Jersey and what I should expect in it. Mainly the house in which we are going to call home. I looked back down at what I have written so far, trying to put my mind back on tract to writing more.
I've seen rock bottom, and it was love at very first sight
I've been asleep what seems like days
These dreams I love are just a phase
This life I loathe is in my way.
It's not my best but it's pretty high up on the things I like of mine. Many of my inspirations are writers like Stephan King, Edgar Allen Poe, William Shakespeare, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Robert Frost, and a lot more those are just my favorites. Poetry and writing are my favorite things. Reading and writing are also two of my passions, in fact if I had any money or motivation to go to college I'd probably major in Creative Writing. But I don't see college in my future or anything education after college, if I'm being honest.
Realizing that I wasn't going to have the motivation to write anything I put away the guitar and pulled out my laptop, clicking onto my writing software and opening the story I'm currently working on. This is the only story I prefer not to share with my mom. She's, like, my best friend so she reads everything I write. It's like a horror thing because I'm a wannabe Stephan King, but sadly I don't dream out my horror stories. The story came to me one day when I was with my grandmother, the one who just passed away, she was usually my inspiration for writing. I loved when we would read poetry together and talk about what we thought the meaning was. She would say the same poem every time to start out and she would always go first.
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand time,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And a smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come no, ad let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day
My grandmother never told me why she loved it so much, but she did and I grew a certain fondness for the poem as well. I knew it was on old ass poem judging from the words it used and shit, the words are old and outdated. Obsolete compared to modern language. After her poem mine would be next. And I was just like her and say the same poem every single time.
Which is actually my favorite poem if that wasn't obvious.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king
I didn't know who wrote it, but I knew it was in the The Lord of the Rings. So naturally, I loved it. Anything in that movies and books I liked. My grandmother loved it too, not the movie, the poem. But she did like the books. I think she was actually alive when the books came out, god she was so lucky.
I start to think about all the times my grandmother and I spent together, I finally let the tears that have been pooling in my eyes free. I blinked and the tears made their way down my pale face and across my lip ring, Looking down at my tattooed hands I thought of my grandmother. It only had my knuckles done but it was enough for my grandmother to be pissed. She yelled at my mom for letting me get them, the she yelled at me for letting my mom let me get them done. Watching her eyes widening whenever she first saw the word Halloween sprawled across my knuckles was hilarious. Her mouth was gaped open like a fish and her eyes darkened.
I only saw her a few times a year, but each time I saw her I got a weird fuzzy feeling in my stomach, not the kind you get when you get excited when you see someone you love; I don't know how to describe it. It's a weird feeling, like happiness, excitement, nervousness, and a feeling of discontent. Reminder I had no reason to feel this way but I did. I hated the feeling, if I'm being honest.
I tried to keep my animosity for certain things hidden away and other things on my shoulder. Like my hate for meat products on m sleeve and my hate for partying and clubs in my heart. Social gatherings of any sort weren't my thing. Whether it's a family gathering with ugly sweaters and cheek pinching or a drunken, slut filled club with a bunch of classmates I hardly know I won't go. And if I do I'll sit in the corner away from everyone. I was ever a wallflower. Stay and play within my imagination and get away from the hell of the social gathering. Whether it's whores trying to get on my lap or some great aunt telling me how much I've grown since she's last seen me. Which I'm starting to think that they only say this so they can cover up the fact that they have no idea who the fuck you are. Anyway whores are usually surprised when they can't get me up. I'm no virgin but I've never done anything with a girl. And if I'm being honest, I really don't want to.
Everyone knew I was gay too, which is the reason I don't have friends. Fuck, I don't even have acquaintances. I just sit and the library and read for the thirty minute lunch time, eating an apple I brought with me and a soda of any sort. Everyone around here wasn't exactly open and accepting of gay people. Sighing I shut my laptop, I was at loss for any motivation or inspiration so I just laid down on my bed and shut my eyes.
Sunday September 18th, 2004
We just turned into the town I was going to call home. Mom said we were about ten minutes away from my new house. But who knows, moms are usually always right but she might be wrong about the timing. But I did see a welcome sign about five minutes ago. I sighed when we passed a run down looking part. It looked as though the town was on the edge of death and is slowly fading away to nothingness. I saw some old people walking around. Again, on the edge of death.
It wasn't the worst part of Jersey, I can assure you of that. But it was still pretty bad. I only saw old people out walking around and some teenagers. Now, teenagers are the single most terrifying thing on the entire planet. Scratch that, the single most terrifying thing in the fucking universe. They are mean, intolerable, inexcusably lazy, and spiteful humans. They are cruel and will beat you down and out, not giving a single fuck about your feelings. They will take your heart and smash it onto the pavement just to watch the light fade from your eyes. All because hey fucking can. Teens like that are the ones who give us a bad name.
But I have no right to be preaching. I smoke and drink. Hell if I have any pot I'd probably be high right now, I go tagging, and hang out at graveyards at night. I fail tests and skip school to smash peoples mailboxes when I drive past them in my moms beat up car. I flip off the church goers on their way in or out of their saviors house. I'm a gay boy who spreads his homosexuality everywhere. That last one not so much but oh well. I've never actually been with another dude, but I'd assume I'd be a little slut if I could land a dude.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when my mom said my name and motioned for me to look outside the window. When I did I saw a high school, so this was the school I was going to. Sighing I looked away and we continued on our drive. A few minutes later we turned onto a gravel path and not even a minute later passed under a stone structure that looked kinda like a look out. My mother told me she used to play in it for hours with her old imaginary friends. When I asked her about the name she said she forgot years ago. It was an older boy though and
that's all she remembers.
Finally we reached the house of my deceased grandmother. It was fucking huge. Like really fucking huge like goddamn. But fucking hell it looked old. Not really run down just old. Looks like something you'd see on an episode of Scooby fucking Doo. I always wanted to live in a big house but this was pushing it.
"Wow, looks just like it did wen I was a kid. Maybe a little bit smaller now that I've grown. But still the same nonetheless." My mom said, parking in front of the house and we got out. We has a small trailer of things because Grandmas house came furnished and everything. So we brought possessions like clothes and things along those lines. Hair straightener, guitar, condoms, ya know things gram didn't have.
"I can't actually believe you lived here." I said, letting out a breath "You seem like a modern home kinda women. Not a fucking old ass mansion kinda woman."
"I can see where you're coming from but nope, I grew up here." She smiled, ruffling my hair as she passed me to open up the door to the house. I fixed my hair and rushed after her. We walked in the house and the first thing you could smell was old people and formaldehyde, a nauseating concoction of smells. I am so ready to Febreze the shit outta my room. It also smells like shit. I kinda don't regret not coming here as a kid, I don't think my lungs would've made it.
"Wow, ma, what'd you kill in here?" My mom asked pulling her shirt over her mouth and face.
"Honey could you do me a favor and go get the Febreze from the back seat before we pass out?"
I nodded and turned around, ready to breathe the fresh outside air. I run to the car and open up the backseat door and grab four bottles. Two for each of us. I ran back and handed her two cans and we both just started frantically spraying our way into the house. The room we just came out of was kinda creepy. It was covered in painting of things, even people, and it has a giant wardrobe for you to put your coats in.
"I'm selling the paintings." My mother said, "Fuck seeing that shit every fucking time I come home and leave." Part of me twitched when she said that, sure we could always use the money but who know knew what the paintings did to the house, if anything they added to the spook factor. We already had a lot of money because we sold all our furniture and shit. There's probably a lot of things in this house we're going to sell. I'm sure we're going to get food with the money but I'm not sure.
We were in a hallway now. The house wasn't dirty, gram didn't have it like that. It just smelled ripe. Thankfully the lights weren't shut off yet and we walked through the hallway and into a room on the left. It was fucking huge ass dining room. It had a long table and a fancy ass chandelier. A chandelier. fucking how rich was my family, Jesus.
Two hours later and an uncountable number of Febreze bottles later we made it through the first two stories. Not counting the attic and basement. We decided we'll do it tomorrow morning when we both got some sleep. Plus I was kinda scared when my mom said she lived her until she was 18 and never stepped foot in either. Just to think I wanted to have the basement as my bedroom just four days ago.
I decided which room is going to be mine. And my mom was right there was 7 bedrooms total. Once I picked my room I took down the paintings and sat them carefully outside my bedroom door, where my mom will collect them and research their price. The walls looked empty now, I don't know why I felt an attachment to them. We may live in this house but we still have to pay for the basics. So I guess I have to suck it up about the paintings, we really could use the money.
Once we've settle in I plan on getting a job to help out my mom and buy some things I want. I can't keep asking my mom for the cash. My mom and I started to clean her room. We're cleaning her room first because she drove up here and didn't get much sleep; she deserved it. It took three hours but her room is clean, her bed is made (with freshly washed sheets), creepy pictures outside her room, and her tucked into bed. I kiss her goodnight and go back to my room on the other side of the house to to clean it. The great thing about this house is that i could blast my music and my mom won't hear a thing.
And that's exactly what I did. I collected vinyl records and my room just so happened to have an old phonograph. To which I have all intention of keeping and driving my mom crazy. I dusted, polished, and washed every surface of my room. It had a rug so I went looking for the vacuum inside the opening room where most of the boxes were stacked and when I found it I vacuumed the floor and then put it back. I went over to my closet where I put the boxes with my clothes and items. I washed the insides of the dressers and put the clothes inside them. There was two of them and they were rather big. I filled them both with my clothes.
Next was my posters which went where the paintings went. I smiled when they were all up. The room finally started to look like it was mine. I move the curtains to see what my view was but I was shocked when the curtains hung in front of doors. Taken aback when I realized it was a balcony. opening up the doors I stepped out into the coldness of Autumn. Tip toeing over to the edge of the balcony to see the view, my breath stopped in my throat when I saw what was in front of me.
In front of me was a small, old looking cemetery, wow mom wasn't joking when she said that it
had it's own burial site. Some of the headstones looked old and faded from my view, I'll go check them out tomorrow when the sun wasn't dying. Next to the run down looking cemetery was a run down stone structure, I'm assuming that is was the stable my mo was talking about. Wow, this place was sick as shit. I leaned back from the edge, the cold really started to creep up on me, I turned and headed back to my warm room. When I entered my room I shut and locked the doors to the balcony, I don't know why. I'm on the second floor, it just felt safer. I sighed and made my way over to my bed.
My bed back in Cali was small and but this bed was a king bed that was higher off the ground and looked really comfortable. My sheets were too small for the bed so I rummaged the closet to find sheets that fit the bed. They were black and dusty but they'll work, I'll just have to shake them. I made the bed and just used my own duvet. It''ll work for now I guess.
With that my head hit the pillow and I was out.
*Dream*
I was cold, bitter and freezing. Where was I? It hit me, I was on my balcony in my new house. Why? I heard a sound and jumped, I heard faint music playing, it sounded like the Smiths. I smiled, I loved the Smiths. Closing my eyes I let the music rush over me.
"You're not supposed to be here." Said a deep voice, snapping me out of my blissful state. The voice belonged to someone dark and cold. "Once she died the house was to remain empty."
He said it spitefully, as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. I tried to find the source of the voice, but I couldn't find anything. A deep sound resonated and I realized quickly that it was a chuckle.
"Don't even bother looking for me." The voice said, teasing me. "Just leave this house and you'll be fine."
"What?" I asked, confused. "Who th-"
Something, or someone grabbed out at me and scratched my right arm, leaving a deep, stinging mark. "Leave. This. House." The deep voice bellowed. I cowered and suddenly felt my body get even colder.
Monday September 19th, 2004
I woke up suddenly, my head spinning. My body filling with a warmth that wasn't there a moment ago, as though someone turned up a fucking Frank Iero thermostat. I thought back to my dream, that was fucking weird. Though I don't think much of it because this is a new and unfamiliar place for me, this thing was normal when you go somewhere you don't know. When I moved my arm stung, I looked down and right there on my left arm was a deep scratch, okay now I was spooked.
"Why the fuck should I even leave my bed?' I asked myself out loud.
"Because we have to do shit today." My mom answered. I jumped up and screamed, "Jesus fuck, calm down Frank."
"Just give me heart attack why don't you?' I snapped and got out of bed.
"'That's unhealthy, go run some laps or something." She laughed and I rolled my eyes.
Friday September 14th, 2004
"No, you can't be serious mom." I said shaking my head in disbelief. "She couldn't have."
"I'm sorry honey, but it's the truth." She said with a sad, endearing look. "I know you loved her very much, and what's important is that she knew that too. And I don't doubt for a second that she didn't love you back."
"She couldn't have... we just saw her two months ago." I whimpered, fighting away the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes. "Mom, no."
"I'm sorry baby, but she just collapsed. The doctor said she felt no pain." She said wrapping her comforting arms around me and kissing the top of my head. "And I have some news- some good that'll come out of her death."
I pulled away from her embrace and gawked at her,shocked that she would even suggest that anything good could come from me losing my grandmother. The anger was rushing through my veins, how dare she. "Nothing good can come from her death! How that thought could've crossed your mind is beyond me."
"Oh Frankie, baby I didn't mean it like that. Come here," Cooed my mother as she beckoned me back towards her open, inviting arms. Finally I gave up on resisting her and I fell back into her embrace. "You know how she always came over here and how we never went over there?"
I thought for a minute, and it struck me for the very first time; I had never seen nor even questioned where my grandmother lived. Rattling my brain I thought I must've knew where she lived, she was one of my best friends. When my mind came up blank I looked at my mom, know she lived in Jersey but don't know where or what her house looked like. "What the fuck, mom?"
"Well back in 1800's our family had built a mansion that loomed in the woods. A grandfather of ours had built it for his bride in 1800 and the house is almost 200 years old. Well your grandmother had lived in the house and they needed to give someone the house and in grandma's will it says it's for us. We're moving, Frank." My mom explained quickly. "By next week we'll be in New Jersey."
"You're fucking shitting me?" I said, still attempting to comprehend what she is telling me. I'm moving. I'm moving across the country and giving up everything I once knew. The house my mother, my grandmother lived in. The house my grandmother died in. Most teenagers would be pissed or upset. Not me. I don'y know how I feel about it. I don't mind leaving all my 0 friends behind and moving somewhere new.
"I'm not shitting you, school over there started and I am not delaying you anymore school. I already called your school, you're fucking done with that shit hole."
"Thanks and yeah it was a massive shit hole." I said as I shakily ran my fingers through my hair. My tears had dried and I calmed down a bit. I was starting to feel bad for yelling earlier. "So she's not going to have a funeral I'm guessing?"
"No they already buried her yesterday. Frank she had only us." She said, "Oh and by the way, the house has it's own family cemetery. But don't worry too much it's not like a Pet Samatary or anything like that."
"The house has it's own graveyard?" I asked, more to myself than my mom. "Is that where they buried her?"
"Yeah, it was written in her will that she wanted to be buried there. Or she was going to come back and haunt the living hell out of whoever didn't put her with her family." She chuckled, "She had a strong will, that woman."
"So it's like a mansion type house, right?"
"Yep, pretty big house. I remember growing up there and getting lost every day." She smiled thinking back to the memory, her eyes crinkling slightly. "I don't remember how many rooms it has but it's definitely more than five rooms."
"Like rooms in general or bedrooms?"
"Oh Jesus the house has more than ten rooms. It has it's own library, a study, living room, dining room, kitchen, attic, huge ass basement, quite a few bathrooms, and more. It has stables and shit."
"Huge ass basement you say?"
"Off limits, you're getting a normal bedroom. Attic and basement aren't to be played around with." She warned and she had a far off look in her eye, as though remembering the supposed horror of the attic and basement.
"Pssh okay, now anything else drastic you wanna tell me? Am I adopted? Is my father really alive? Did you kidnap me when I was young and now you're pretending to be my mother?"
"Yes, no, and yes." She said smirking and turning back to the food she was making.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked her but all she did was laugh. I shrugged and walked down the small hallway to the basement door, also known as my bedroom door. As much as I hated living in Cali, I was going to miss this room more than I'd like to admit. This room has been my room since I was about six. Nothing beat getting beaten up and coming home to my old mattress on the ground to curl up on and curse the world. The room wasn't anything special it was dark and drafty and my mom hated it down here but it was roomy with all my posters strung up everywhere and my comics piled up in random stacks.
Leaning against the wall I looked around my small basement room. I let my thoughts wander to the house that was waiting for me back in Jersey. What was it going to look like? How big is it really? Does it look like an old run down house? Is she just pulling my leg and we're actually moving to suburban Jersey? The thoughts ran holes in my brain and I decided to leave the matter to when we actually move. Which should be in two days or so, if I did the math correctly. It takes roughly three days to reach New Jersey from my house, so we'll be there probably the day before I have to go to school. Fun.
I sighed and looked at my clock, 4:30 it read in red, bold lettering. I walked over to my guitar which lived next to a notebook under my bed. Once I had my guitar, Pansy, on my lap I lazily strummed her strings, in my head was a killer song idea but I couldn't sing to save a life, that was my opinion anyway. Maybe if we had a bit more money I'd get some lessons but for the mean time I have y scratchy 17 year old voice.
With my notebook open I started to read the lyrics I had already written and the chords that go with the words. I really couldn't concentrate on the words though because my mind kept racing back to the grungy state of New Jersey and what I should expect in it. Mainly the house in which we are going to call home. I looked back down at what I have written so far, trying to put my mind back on tract to writing more.
I've seen rock bottom, and it was love at very first sight
I've been asleep what seems like days
These dreams I love are just a phase
This life I loathe is in my way.
It's not my best but it's pretty high up on the things I like of mine. Many of my inspirations are writers like Stephan King, Edgar Allen Poe, William Shakespeare, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Robert Frost, and a lot more those are just my favorites. Poetry and writing are my favorite things. Reading and writing are also two of my passions, in fact if I had any money or motivation to go to college I'd probably major in Creative Writing. But I don't see college in my future or anything education after college, if I'm being honest.
Realizing that I wasn't going to have the motivation to write anything I put away the guitar and pulled out my laptop, clicking onto my writing software and opening the story I'm currently working on. This is the only story I prefer not to share with my mom. She's, like, my best friend so she reads everything I write. It's like a horror thing because I'm a wannabe Stephan King, but sadly I don't dream out my horror stories. The story came to me one day when I was with my grandmother, the one who just passed away, she was usually my inspiration for writing. I loved when we would read poetry together and talk about what we thought the meaning was. She would say the same poem every time to start out and she would always go first.
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand time,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And a smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come no, ad let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day
My grandmother never told me why she loved it so much, but she did and I grew a certain fondness for the poem as well. I knew it was on old ass poem judging from the words it used and shit, the words are old and outdated. Obsolete compared to modern language. After her poem mine would be next. And I was just like her and say the same poem every single time.
Which is actually my favorite poem if that wasn't obvious.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king
I didn't know who wrote it, but I knew it was in the The Lord of the Rings. So naturally, I loved it. Anything in that movies and books I liked. My grandmother loved it too, not the movie, the poem. But she did like the books. I think she was actually alive when the books came out, god she was so lucky.
I start to think about all the times my grandmother and I spent together, I finally let the tears that have been pooling in my eyes free. I blinked and the tears made their way down my pale face and across my lip ring, Looking down at my tattooed hands I thought of my grandmother. It only had my knuckles done but it was enough for my grandmother to be pissed. She yelled at my mom for letting me get them, the she yelled at me for letting my mom let me get them done. Watching her eyes widening whenever she first saw the word Halloween sprawled across my knuckles was hilarious. Her mouth was gaped open like a fish and her eyes darkened.
I only saw her a few times a year, but each time I saw her I got a weird fuzzy feeling in my stomach, not the kind you get when you get excited when you see someone you love; I don't know how to describe it. It's a weird feeling, like happiness, excitement, nervousness, and a feeling of discontent. Reminder I had no reason to feel this way but I did. I hated the feeling, if I'm being honest.
I tried to keep my animosity for certain things hidden away and other things on my shoulder. Like my hate for meat products on m sleeve and my hate for partying and clubs in my heart. Social gatherings of any sort weren't my thing. Whether it's a family gathering with ugly sweaters and cheek pinching or a drunken, slut filled club with a bunch of classmates I hardly know I won't go. And if I do I'll sit in the corner away from everyone. I was ever a wallflower. Stay and play within my imagination and get away from the hell of the social gathering. Whether it's whores trying to get on my lap or some great aunt telling me how much I've grown since she's last seen me. Which I'm starting to think that they only say this so they can cover up the fact that they have no idea who the fuck you are. Anyway whores are usually surprised when they can't get me up. I'm no virgin but I've never done anything with a girl. And if I'm being honest, I really don't want to.
Everyone knew I was gay too, which is the reason I don't have friends. Fuck, I don't even have acquaintances. I just sit and the library and read for the thirty minute lunch time, eating an apple I brought with me and a soda of any sort. Everyone around here wasn't exactly open and accepting of gay people. Sighing I shut my laptop, I was at loss for any motivation or inspiration so I just laid down on my bed and shut my eyes.
Sunday September 18th, 2004
We just turned into the town I was going to call home. Mom said we were about ten minutes away from my new house. But who knows, moms are usually always right but she might be wrong about the timing. But I did see a welcome sign about five minutes ago. I sighed when we passed a run down looking part. It looked as though the town was on the edge of death and is slowly fading away to nothingness. I saw some old people walking around. Again, on the edge of death.
It wasn't the worst part of Jersey, I can assure you of that. But it was still pretty bad. I only saw old people out walking around and some teenagers. Now, teenagers are the single most terrifying thing on the entire planet. Scratch that, the single most terrifying thing in the fucking universe. They are mean, intolerable, inexcusably lazy, and spiteful humans. They are cruel and will beat you down and out, not giving a single fuck about your feelings. They will take your heart and smash it onto the pavement just to watch the light fade from your eyes. All because hey fucking can. Teens like that are the ones who give us a bad name.
But I have no right to be preaching. I smoke and drink. Hell if I have any pot I'd probably be high right now, I go tagging, and hang out at graveyards at night. I fail tests and skip school to smash peoples mailboxes when I drive past them in my moms beat up car. I flip off the church goers on their way in or out of their saviors house. I'm a gay boy who spreads his homosexuality everywhere. That last one not so much but oh well. I've never actually been with another dude, but I'd assume I'd be a little slut if I could land a dude.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when my mom said my name and motioned for me to look outside the window. When I did I saw a high school, so this was the school I was going to. Sighing I looked away and we continued on our drive. A few minutes later we turned onto a gravel path and not even a minute later passed under a stone structure that looked kinda like a look out. My mother told me she used to play in it for hours with her old imaginary friends. When I asked her about the name she said she forgot years ago. It was an older boy though and
that's all she remembers.
Finally we reached the house of my deceased grandmother. It was fucking huge. Like really fucking huge like goddamn. But fucking hell it looked old. Not really run down just old. Looks like something you'd see on an episode of Scooby fucking Doo. I always wanted to live in a big house but this was pushing it.
"Wow, looks just like it did wen I was a kid. Maybe a little bit smaller now that I've grown. But still the same nonetheless." My mom said, parking in front of the house and we got out. We has a small trailer of things because Grandmas house came furnished and everything. So we brought possessions like clothes and things along those lines. Hair straightener, guitar, condoms, ya know things gram didn't have.
"I can't actually believe you lived here." I said, letting out a breath "You seem like a modern home kinda women. Not a fucking old ass mansion kinda woman."
"I can see where you're coming from but nope, I grew up here." She smiled, ruffling my hair as she passed me to open up the door to the house. I fixed my hair and rushed after her. We walked in the house and the first thing you could smell was old people and formaldehyde, a nauseating concoction of smells. I am so ready to Febreze the shit outta my room. It also smells like shit. I kinda don't regret not coming here as a kid, I don't think my lungs would've made it.
"Wow, ma, what'd you kill in here?" My mom asked pulling her shirt over her mouth and face.
"Honey could you do me a favor and go get the Febreze from the back seat before we pass out?"
I nodded and turned around, ready to breathe the fresh outside air. I run to the car and open up the backseat door and grab four bottles. Two for each of us. I ran back and handed her two cans and we both just started frantically spraying our way into the house. The room we just came out of was kinda creepy. It was covered in painting of things, even people, and it has a giant wardrobe for you to put your coats in.
"I'm selling the paintings." My mother said, "Fuck seeing that shit every fucking time I come home and leave." Part of me twitched when she said that, sure we could always use the money but who know knew what the paintings did to the house, if anything they added to the spook factor. We already had a lot of money because we sold all our furniture and shit. There's probably a lot of things in this house we're going to sell. I'm sure we're going to get food with the money but I'm not sure.
We were in a hallway now. The house wasn't dirty, gram didn't have it like that. It just smelled ripe. Thankfully the lights weren't shut off yet and we walked through the hallway and into a room on the left. It was fucking huge ass dining room. It had a long table and a fancy ass chandelier. A chandelier. fucking how rich was my family, Jesus.
Two hours later and an uncountable number of Febreze bottles later we made it through the first two stories. Not counting the attic and basement. We decided we'll do it tomorrow morning when we both got some sleep. Plus I was kinda scared when my mom said she lived her until she was 18 and never stepped foot in either. Just to think I wanted to have the basement as my bedroom just four days ago.
I decided which room is going to be mine. And my mom was right there was 7 bedrooms total. Once I picked my room I took down the paintings and sat them carefully outside my bedroom door, where my mom will collect them and research their price. The walls looked empty now, I don't know why I felt an attachment to them. We may live in this house but we still have to pay for the basics. So I guess I have to suck it up about the paintings, we really could use the money.
Once we've settle in I plan on getting a job to help out my mom and buy some things I want. I can't keep asking my mom for the cash. My mom and I started to clean her room. We're cleaning her room first because she drove up here and didn't get much sleep; she deserved it. It took three hours but her room is clean, her bed is made (with freshly washed sheets), creepy pictures outside her room, and her tucked into bed. I kiss her goodnight and go back to my room on the other side of the house to to clean it. The great thing about this house is that i could blast my music and my mom won't hear a thing.
And that's exactly what I did. I collected vinyl records and my room just so happened to have an old phonograph. To which I have all intention of keeping and driving my mom crazy. I dusted, polished, and washed every surface of my room. It had a rug so I went looking for the vacuum inside the opening room where most of the boxes were stacked and when I found it I vacuumed the floor and then put it back. I went over to my closet where I put the boxes with my clothes and items. I washed the insides of the dressers and put the clothes inside them. There was two of them and they were rather big. I filled them both with my clothes.
Next was my posters which went where the paintings went. I smiled when they were all up. The room finally started to look like it was mine. I move the curtains to see what my view was but I was shocked when the curtains hung in front of doors. Taken aback when I realized it was a balcony. opening up the doors I stepped out into the coldness of Autumn. Tip toeing over to the edge of the balcony to see the view, my breath stopped in my throat when I saw what was in front of me.
In front of me was a small, old looking cemetery, wow mom wasn't joking when she said that it
had it's own burial site. Some of the headstones looked old and faded from my view, I'll go check them out tomorrow when the sun wasn't dying. Next to the run down looking cemetery was a run down stone structure, I'm assuming that is was the stable my mo was talking about. Wow, this place was sick as shit. I leaned back from the edge, the cold really started to creep up on me, I turned and headed back to my warm room. When I entered my room I shut and locked the doors to the balcony, I don't know why. I'm on the second floor, it just felt safer. I sighed and made my way over to my bed.
My bed back in Cali was small and but this bed was a king bed that was higher off the ground and looked really comfortable. My sheets were too small for the bed so I rummaged the closet to find sheets that fit the bed. They were black and dusty but they'll work, I'll just have to shake them. I made the bed and just used my own duvet. It''ll work for now I guess.
With that my head hit the pillow and I was out.
*Dream*
I was cold, bitter and freezing. Where was I? It hit me, I was on my balcony in my new house. Why? I heard a sound and jumped, I heard faint music playing, it sounded like the Smiths. I smiled, I loved the Smiths. Closing my eyes I let the music rush over me.
"You're not supposed to be here." Said a deep voice, snapping me out of my blissful state. The voice belonged to someone dark and cold. "Once she died the house was to remain empty."
He said it spitefully, as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. I tried to find the source of the voice, but I couldn't find anything. A deep sound resonated and I realized quickly that it was a chuckle.
"Don't even bother looking for me." The voice said, teasing me. "Just leave this house and you'll be fine."
"What?" I asked, confused. "Who th-"
Something, or someone grabbed out at me and scratched my right arm, leaving a deep, stinging mark. "Leave. This. House." The deep voice bellowed. I cowered and suddenly felt my body get even colder.
Monday September 19th, 2004
I woke up suddenly, my head spinning. My body filling with a warmth that wasn't there a moment ago, as though someone turned up a fucking Frank Iero thermostat. I thought back to my dream, that was fucking weird. Though I don't think much of it because this is a new and unfamiliar place for me, this thing was normal when you go somewhere you don't know. When I moved my arm stung, I looked down and right there on my left arm was a deep scratch, okay now I was spooked.
"Why the fuck should I even leave my bed?' I asked myself out loud.
"Because we have to do shit today." My mom answered. I jumped up and screamed, "Jesus fuck, calm down Frank."
"Just give me heart attack why don't you?' I snapped and got out of bed.
"'That's unhealthy, go run some laps or something." She laughed and I rolled my eyes.
Notes
I hope you like the story. Sorry for any grammatical errors. I'm still only 16 and I'm learning so please don't be too hard on me.
Franks grandmothers poem - Longing by Matthew Arnold
Franks poem - All that is gold does not glitter by J. R. R. Tolkien
Franks lyrics - Stitches by frnkiero andthe cellebration
@frnkiero andthe faggots
BLARGH YOU ARE WELCOME :DDDD
5/7/16