House of Cards
Raven Hair and Bloody Skin
Caw.
A big fat raven nestles himself on a branch in an oak tree, his silky ebony wings adjusting ever so slightly as he gets comfortable. He edges himself to look down at the leaf littered ground, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. His big black glassy eyes stare down at a boy, his hair as dark as the predators wings. The boy sits himself on top of a pile of leaves, a chunky brown revolver in hand. The raven caws again, sensing his next bloody meal to come.
BANG.
Caw. Caw. Caw.
The shot startles the bird. Jumping from his place on the branch, he launches into the air in an awkwardly flustered dance. No one notices as he flies above the treetops, circling slowly, his black silhouette darkening the gray clouded sky.
The day is rainy; the forest turned a chilly blue-gray color. Animals scatter, tucking themselves away in burrows and nests. Everything has become dead silent, except for the occasional bit of water losing its grip on wherever it was hanging and landing with a tiny pat on a leaf or a branch. The warm August sun has disappeared behind the clouds today, casting gray shadows all over everything.
"GERARD!"
A voice rings out in the silence.
"GERARD! WAIT, DON'T DO IT!"
A second boy is running through the forest, his big black boots kicking up leaves as he goes. Tears are welling in his eyes, his chest heaving thick August air. His voice cracks as he yells at the top of his lungs.
"GERARD, PLEASE!"
His destination is a small circular clearing deep in the woods. A place so familiar and nostalgic that it's hard for him to think about what might have just happened there. A place shaded by a fairly large tree, which was just occupied by an extremely large Raven.
He huffs, his face a bright cherry red and covered in snot and tears.
"GERARD! DON- oh my god." He skids to a stop as he reaches the clearing, almost falling on his face. His fingers tremble and he only stands there, staring at the bloody mess before him.
The dark haired boy is lying in the center of the clearing. His long black hair is splayed and matted around his head, his thin lips fallen open in a silent scream of agony. His eyes are half closed, hand curled around the old beaten gun. A small hole is engraved in his skull, blood leaking out in thick streams and coagulating slowly in the leaves around his head. Specks of red litter his face and arms, tainting his pale ivory skin.
The boy, currently bleeding to death in the middle of a clearing, is me.
"Gerard… Oh god, Gerard, what have you done...?" The other boy, the one lacking a bullet in his brain, breaks from his shocked trance, racing forward, and falling to his knees beside me. I stare up at his small frame, his large brown puppy eyes, and his black fringe of hair that runs as a stripe across his head and hangs in his face, the rest hacked short and a sandy colored blond. He whimpers, his body racking with tears. "Gerard, holy shit. I can't believe- no no no no, this can't be happening! It can't be!"
It's so cold.
I blink, my gaze blurry. My head feels tingly; my body is numb as if I were floating on a cloud. The boy lets out a sob, cupping my bloody head with one hand and patting around my pockets with the other, searching for something. "Where's your phone Gerard!? Your phone, your phone!"
He's blubbering something about texting a guy named Mikey. The name seems so familiar yet so alien. And honestly, I don't care. I'm too out of it to really think straight and I'm not quite sure where I am or who this guy is or why he's calling me Gerard. In fact, I'm not even sure who I am, let alone anyone else. I wrinkle my nose in concentration, trying to remember where I put my phone. I can't recall where it is, or even what it looks like but the boy digs his fingers into my front pocket and wiggles the black box shaped device out of my tight black jeans. He scoops it up, pressing buttons, the blue glow of the screen lighting up his face.
When he's finished he shoves my phone back in my front pocket and grips my hand, tears still staining his cheeks. He goes on with shaky reassurances but I can't really hear him, my mind too foggy, too numb. Something about everything being okay and just hanging in there. The last thing I feel is him leaning down to kiss my nose before I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as a wave of pain shovels over me and suddenly I'm falling into a deep abyss.
0-0-0-0-0
I wake up at what feels like only seconds later. But there is no puppy-eyed boy. Instead, hovering over me is a tall looking kid with thick, floppy toffee colored hair and glasses perched at the end of his nose. His t-shirt says The Smashing Pumpkins across the front and around his neck is a beat up guitar pick on a thin black leather string. He's kneeling next to me his jeans getting soaked in what must be my blood. He slides one arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders, lifting me up bridal style. My head jostles, and the pain commands me to dig my nails into his skin and shriek with an embarrassingly high voice. The boy hushes me, muttering apologies as his back bends under my weight.
"The hospitals not too far away," He tells me, holding me to his chest and bounding into the mass entanglement of trees. "Just hang on, okay?"
I watch as he runs through the forest, my head bouncing on his shoulder ever so often. I would have to apologize for the bruises I'm probably leaving up and down his arms. I can't help but remember the other boy, wondering where he went. I'm pretty sure this guy who's carrying me is Mikey. I'm not stupid; putting two and two together isn't very hard. The boy must have texted him, telling him to come get me. But why didn't he just call him? Better yet, why would he leave?
I decide to push the thoughts away. Right now, it hurts too much to concentrate on anything at all really. So I watch the dull gray sky, the ominous shape of a big black bird circling above
A big fat raven nestles himself on a branch in an oak tree, his silky ebony wings adjusting ever so slightly as he gets comfortable. He edges himself to look down at the leaf littered ground, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. His big black glassy eyes stare down at a boy, his hair as dark as the predators wings. The boy sits himself on top of a pile of leaves, a chunky brown revolver in hand. The raven caws again, sensing his next bloody meal to come.
BANG.
Caw. Caw. Caw.
The shot startles the bird. Jumping from his place on the branch, he launches into the air in an awkwardly flustered dance. No one notices as he flies above the treetops, circling slowly, his black silhouette darkening the gray clouded sky.
The day is rainy; the forest turned a chilly blue-gray color. Animals scatter, tucking themselves away in burrows and nests. Everything has become dead silent, except for the occasional bit of water losing its grip on wherever it was hanging and landing with a tiny pat on a leaf or a branch. The warm August sun has disappeared behind the clouds today, casting gray shadows all over everything.
"GERARD!"
A voice rings out in the silence.
"GERARD! WAIT, DON'T DO IT!"
A second boy is running through the forest, his big black boots kicking up leaves as he goes. Tears are welling in his eyes, his chest heaving thick August air. His voice cracks as he yells at the top of his lungs.
"GERARD, PLEASE!"
His destination is a small circular clearing deep in the woods. A place so familiar and nostalgic that it's hard for him to think about what might have just happened there. A place shaded by a fairly large tree, which was just occupied by an extremely large Raven.
He huffs, his face a bright cherry red and covered in snot and tears.
"GERARD! DON- oh my god." He skids to a stop as he reaches the clearing, almost falling on his face. His fingers tremble and he only stands there, staring at the bloody mess before him.
The dark haired boy is lying in the center of the clearing. His long black hair is splayed and matted around his head, his thin lips fallen open in a silent scream of agony. His eyes are half closed, hand curled around the old beaten gun. A small hole is engraved in his skull, blood leaking out in thick streams and coagulating slowly in the leaves around his head. Specks of red litter his face and arms, tainting his pale ivory skin.
The boy, currently bleeding to death in the middle of a clearing, is me.
"Gerard… Oh god, Gerard, what have you done...?" The other boy, the one lacking a bullet in his brain, breaks from his shocked trance, racing forward, and falling to his knees beside me. I stare up at his small frame, his large brown puppy eyes, and his black fringe of hair that runs as a stripe across his head and hangs in his face, the rest hacked short and a sandy colored blond. He whimpers, his body racking with tears. "Gerard, holy shit. I can't believe- no no no no, this can't be happening! It can't be!"
It's so cold.
I blink, my gaze blurry. My head feels tingly; my body is numb as if I were floating on a cloud. The boy lets out a sob, cupping my bloody head with one hand and patting around my pockets with the other, searching for something. "Where's your phone Gerard!? Your phone, your phone!"
He's blubbering something about texting a guy named Mikey. The name seems so familiar yet so alien. And honestly, I don't care. I'm too out of it to really think straight and I'm not quite sure where I am or who this guy is or why he's calling me Gerard. In fact, I'm not even sure who I am, let alone anyone else. I wrinkle my nose in concentration, trying to remember where I put my phone. I can't recall where it is, or even what it looks like but the boy digs his fingers into my front pocket and wiggles the black box shaped device out of my tight black jeans. He scoops it up, pressing buttons, the blue glow of the screen lighting up his face.
When he's finished he shoves my phone back in my front pocket and grips my hand, tears still staining his cheeks. He goes on with shaky reassurances but I can't really hear him, my mind too foggy, too numb. Something about everything being okay and just hanging in there. The last thing I feel is him leaning down to kiss my nose before I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as a wave of pain shovels over me and suddenly I'm falling into a deep abyss.
0-0-0-0-0
I wake up at what feels like only seconds later. But there is no puppy-eyed boy. Instead, hovering over me is a tall looking kid with thick, floppy toffee colored hair and glasses perched at the end of his nose. His t-shirt says The Smashing Pumpkins across the front and around his neck is a beat up guitar pick on a thin black leather string. He's kneeling next to me his jeans getting soaked in what must be my blood. He slides one arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders, lifting me up bridal style. My head jostles, and the pain commands me to dig my nails into his skin and shriek with an embarrassingly high voice. The boy hushes me, muttering apologies as his back bends under my weight.
"The hospitals not too far away," He tells me, holding me to his chest and bounding into the mass entanglement of trees. "Just hang on, okay?"
I watch as he runs through the forest, my head bouncing on his shoulder ever so often. I would have to apologize for the bruises I'm probably leaving up and down his arms. I can't help but remember the other boy, wondering where he went. I'm pretty sure this guy who's carrying me is Mikey. I'm not stupid; putting two and two together isn't very hard. The boy must have texted him, telling him to come get me. But why didn't he just call him? Better yet, why would he leave?
I decide to push the thoughts away. Right now, it hurts too much to concentrate on anything at all really. So I watch the dull gray sky, the ominous shape of a big black bird circling above
Notes
Morbid is the key word for this story.
I'd like to thank my lovely best friend for helping me conquer the monsters <3
More soon.
-Roach
OH MY GOD YOU LISTEN TO FINGER ELEVEN AMAZING AH
1/16/14