Dreams of the Beautiful Suicidal Souls pt. 2

Another piece I thought about for this little story line and thread. This is not me or anyone I know. This is not based on anyone but rather inspired by what has occurred in current issues. Hope everyone who reads this enjoys and let me know if anyone would like to see more material like this.


July 25, 20XX


To all of that read this,


Depending on who reads this letter depends on the message I have for you.

If it is the police who first read this letter, I beg for you to spare the sight of my body from my family. I do not want them to see what will become of me…

If it is my family, then I am truly sorry. I couldn’t stand the torture anymore. I was beat in school and mentally attacked. To suffer daily and to have the onslaught continue even after school has ended, it became too much. At graduation, you saw that people would not talk to me, they avoided taking photos with me, pushed me away. All for simply being gay…

I am a gay man. I’ve been called a faggot. I’ve been called queer. I’ve been called a bitch. I’ve been pushed down on a guy by tormentors and smacked and called so many names. I would get disgusting drawings in my locker. I’ve been the recipient of hotdogs being thrown at my face, told that I should like that. I’ve been tied up on a fence and left to bleed.

All of this for simply being different.

I was outed after I told one of my friends. She told another person and that caused a domino effect and eventually many people from school found out and then you, my family found out. I’m so happy and proud of you guys for having accepted me. But it was not enough help in the long run.

If you are one of my tormentors, I sincerely hope that you are not seeing this message. But if you do I hope you let this phrase sink in: “Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.” I hope that you are willing to be hurt and tortured as how you did to me. I hope your “harmless games” were worth it. I wish that you no longer laugh, no longer find the joy of the world. You stole my joy, my hope, and I hope you lose that too.

Today is my birthday. I turned 18 today. We already did my little party. We ate at this nice steak house. I had hoped to travel the world, go to college. Find a husband.

Today I turned 18. Today I die. Today, I was told to “fuck off” and to go “suck a big one” on my birthday.

Today I turned 18. Today I lost all hope.

I love you Mom and Dad and little ones.


Love Always,

JJ Smith

Light Thief

“Why did you leave me in darkness,” he asked his former lover, looking directly into the dark green eyes.

“You stole my light. I retook what you ripped from me. I wish you the pain that wrought my soul. They turn and walk away, away from the past and the shameful love they once cherished.

War-Torn Warrior

I attempt to write fiction prose, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. This post may be the last post for a brief while simply because I have been swamped the past few days and I have been unable to write and the next few days will be incredibly hectic. Hope you enjoy!

I know I cannot accurately write about this topic because I have not experienced war. However, I would like to broaden my ability of writing and use what I have seen and heard to try to portray this everyday fact of life.


War-torn Warrior


The rifle pushes against my shoulder as it fires. Round after round leaves the barrel, shrieking, looking for its target. Screams ring out, blood flies. Bombs create chaotic explosions, limbs flying along with those explosions.

Everywhere I look, I see the living, the dead and the wounded. I’m walking past everyone and everything; I no longer care for my life.

My screams are the screams of my comrades, the screams of the dead, the screams of my enemies. My soul screams along with the screams of the things around me, the screams of humanity and nature. It screams at the sight of dead, mutilated children, women bullet-ridden, men with destroyed beyond repair. It is too much to bear.

As I cross another dead body, I feel something press to the side of my skull before it enters, the flash of pain warns me of what is to come. I know now, at this moment before I die, I can finally find peace by escaping this horror.

The Family

My attempts at fiction writing. There is a great inconsistency with my fiction writing but hopefully this one is good. Feel free to let me know what you think of this!

The Family


There were many strange things about the house next door. It was large and imposing, two stories tall, gothic style architecture mixed with church style architecture, either with tinted windows or stained glass windows, creating a frightening sight. Everything about that house was very foreboding, something out of a horror film. I was often curious about the house and tried to look inside, but the glass made it impossible to do so.

It had been a shock to find out that a family was moving into the house. It had been abandoned for nearly a decade, the house had been on the market for years and every group that came to investigate the house left soon after. When we had heard that a family was moving in, my family, including myself, were shocked by the news. The whole neighborhood eventually caught the news through the wind and eventually everyone was on alert, wondering who that family could be.

They came in on Friday the 13th, a weird coincidence given the creepy nature of the house, and as we learned upon seeing them, the family. They walked quickly and quietly, avoiding all eye contact with neighbors that were walking past and waving and trying to avoid the sunlight hitting them directly. Even though they didn’t seem to want attention, they sure warranted it.

I watched from my room as the family walked back and forth, moving all their possessions into the house. I noticed a young girl with them, around my age and if anything a year older, and the girl was holding a little girl, her little sister I presumed. Both were dressed in all black, while the parents were dressed in professional business clothing, however that was all black as well. They sure made for an interesting sight.

Months had passed since they moved in. Aside from the occasional greeting, they had no interaction with anyone. Their sudden departure shocked many of us in the neighborhood. We had seen them a day before and thought nothing of them. It seemed that hours later, in the dead of night, they just left. No cars on the driveway. No lights coming from the house. No signs of life.

Me and my family went by a couple of times and knocked or rang the doorbell, wondering if we would get an answer. However, every time we knocked, we received no answer.

Several more weeks have passed since the family left. I wondered: what happened? What about the two girls? I wanted to know but I didn’t know how to find any answers.

I decided to investigate on my own. I waited until my family went to bed. The moon was full and it was hitting the house directly. I climbed out of my window and jumped down. I landed with a light thump, and began running over to the abandoned house, aided by the dark. I ran across the grass, and quickly, knowing that I would be seen if anyone came by.

I didn’t stop until I reached the door and stopped. Even in the daylight the door was imposing. But now, in the dark gloom, it was truly frightening. It was a grand ebony door with stained glass, at least ten feet tall and five wide, two separate doors forming the large one. I place my hand on the doorknob, and pushed down, and it moved with my hand. I pushed the door open, walked in and shut the door behind me.

I walked around and noticed the rotten food on the kitchen table. On the table next to the stairs were keys, change, and dead cell phones. Every object in the house was covered in dust.

I walked past without touching anything and went up the stairs, wanting to know what was on the second floor. I reached the second floor landing and the first thing I see is a mirror, large enough to have at least six or seven people in front of and still have room for more. Right next to the mirror was a table with a picture of the family, their faces scratched out.

I moved my gaze away from the picture, shivers going down my spine, and look at my refection in the mirror. The full moon passes through a red stained glass window and allows me to see myself and the mirror. I look at the mirror and see an inscription, but I do not recognize the language. The red light does not help ease the feeling that are going through me right now.

I continue to see myself in the mirror. I’m by no means a narcissist, and the red moonlight does nothing to aid in calming me, but I can’t help but be entranced by the mirror. I see shadows grow around me, but I pay them no attention. I suddenly feel 4 distinct breaths on my skin.


Hiding to Survive

There are so many issues in our world that are overlooked. If it appears on the news, then people will care for a period of time. But if it doesn’t, people will simply not bring up the issue of child abuse unless their life’s work is helping those who have been hurt and abused. This is always current. This, sadly, will always happen.

Hiding to Survive


My closet, made of the most brittle of materials, is what keeps me safe from my family. My mom and dad, my supposed protectors from the wretched and vile people of this world, hurt me so that mass murderers seem like angels before my eyes.

I hide to survive. Hide to protect myself from the rape and the beatings. Hide from my greatest moments of fear in my life. Hide so that one day I can escape and never look back. Never look back on the physical pain and the mental suffering.

They are looking for me all around the house, looking for any trace of where I could possibly be hiding. They know where I am though.

They play this sadistic game to feel pleasure, to become high of their only son, their only child, wither in pain.

My door is barricaded with clothes and shoes and books and baskets and everything else I could use to help keep them out. In my hand I hold a toy bone, nothing to stop them but anything to help protect me.

I hear them. Hide and survive. Pray and hope. Don’t and I could die.

Paradise Lost

This story can possibly be difficult to read simply due to the content. However, this is a topic that needs to be addressed, something that cannot be swept underneath the rug. As you, the reader, will notice, I do not specify the gender of the victim because this can happen to not only women, but also men. This is a story I wrote a while back and I don’t like the fact that I wrote it for it sent me chills when I originally wrote this story.

Paradise Lost


Inner peace. That is what I need right now.

This is what I need as I feel my body being ripped apart, every muscle and fiber in my body screaming in utter agony. Tears streak down my face, I cry out for help; I feel my soul fade into the darkness that has enveloped me. I try to be strong, but my whole being feels weak.

Why is he doing this to me?

What did I do to deserve this?

I had thought we were friends; we were like soul siblings. Friends from elementary, we stayed together throughout our entire educational adventures. Even now in college, we are, or were, the closest of friends.

I feel the bedsheets underneath, sliding across my body as I’m being pushed back and forth. They’re silk. Andrew always had money.

We always played the same sports, played the same games, and even attended the same parties. We always took care of each other. Others always told us we were conjoined twins, attached at the hip; like a couple because of how inseparable we were back in our childhood years. If we fought, it was playful and never malicious. If we argued, we talked it out to get the problem resolved. No matter the argument or fight, we always had each other’s back.

My cries have become silent. The tears have wet the pillow that I buried my face in.

Who knew that on this night was the night that everything would change? Never did I believe that Andrew could have hurt me in the way that he did.

My body still screams. My tears have run dry; salt has replaced the tears and my eyes sting. My soul is losing its strength.

This party was the start of our college life. Everyone knew about the party since that was the only topic of conversation for nearly one week. Andrew and I both decided to go. It was going to be the first chapter in our newest book of our lives.

He keeps thrusting into me despite my whimpers and my desperate attempts to remove him off of me. Andrew has become someone I no longer know, someone I do not recognize.

We went to the party without incident. We danced and drank and played pool and laughed. Just like we had hundreds of times before. We decided to leave and walked over to his apartment, given how neither one of us could drive. Because of that, he said I could just stay the night, like countless times before at our childhood homes. Even though I had a slight buzz, I decided to stay given how drunk Andrew had gotten. To take care of him I said yes. We both got into bed together, just like we always had from our infancy.

I feel Andrew exiting my body. I’m relieved that it is over; my body breathes a sigh of relief.

I had been rudely awakened at the Devil’s hour. I thought he was just horsing around. He was always like this when he was drunk. That was when I felt him start to rape me.

3: 28. That was the time on the clock. It was next to my head on the nightstand.

Suddenly, the wind rushes out of my body. Andrew has started to rape me again. My body has become so weak from this; I feel my soul lose all hope.

I hear him moan from the pleasure he is getting from my pain. He screams a scream if pleasure and I suddenly feel a warmness inside of me. My body shakes from the shock. Andrew collapses on top of me and I feel his hot breath on my neck.

After a few moments he gets up off of me and tosses me aside. My whole body shakes, and I can’t move. He gets up and walks away into the bathroom, as if nothing had happened.

What happens now that our friendship is ruined? How do you rediscover a paradise that has been lost?


Wandering Earth

We only have one world, one world that we inhabit. We must protect the world to the best of our abilities, preserve the world for future generations.

Wandering Earth


Day by day, month by month, year by year. Eons have passed since my beginnings and time has become mute. I have lost track of my age, lost track of how long I have existed. Time used to be the thing that nourished me, used to be a dear friend. Now, time is a nuisance that never ends.

Throughout my existence, explosions evoke change to my body. Time pushed everything around, wreaking havoc onto me. I was helpless to stop the changes, for all I have been regarded as is a host.

I harbored the entities that evolved and created humanity. I have witnessed every crime humanity has caused. The few good people who helped protect others or tried to preserve me were killed too young. The sanctity of my body has been ravaged by humanity.

Blood has been spilt and stained my soil red. What used to be green, fertile land has become a desolated desert. Beautiful blue bodies of water have become diluted and polluted brown. My soil can no longer support the food that gives life to humans, the rivers can no longer nourish life.

As time progresses, I weep at the sights humanity has wrought. My body feels so ill, I believe I might die. Death seems to be the only certainty for those that inhabit me, but death cannot affect me. It cannot affect me until all of myself has become a wasteland.

Humanity rips apart my body in their own ways. The fumes of my ancient inhabitants pollute my air, weakening my ability to breath. The unnatural man-made chemicals that enter my bodies of water make me sick. Great metal beasts tear apart the fertile land that hosts beautiful animals, beautiful flowers. I shriek from the pain and cry and shiver so strong, I cannot bring myself to bear everything. I try to kill myself.

Ripping apart my body, sending earthquakes all around. Producing hurricanes and tornadoes so powerful that it destroys not only humans, but myself as well. Fires so powerful, no amount of water can quench it. Snow so powerful, it can end life as it moves. Not only do I manage to kill some of the parasites, I also harm myself in such a way, I know that I am one step closer to killing myself.

Try as I might to end my life, everything I do does not do enough to end my life. Time becomes a nuisance. Humanity has become a nuisance. I am the host that succumbs to the nuisances. The parasites have taken control of my body, slowly destroying me as time progresses. The excruciating pain sends my entire body into tears, knowing that I am unable to shake off the parasitic demons.

While time goes on, I suffer. There is nothing that I, Terra Firma, can do. Is there no way to escape this horror? Eventually I shall, however, eons more must pass. I can only wait until my time comes to an end.

The Curious Case of the Blossoming Clouds

It is official ladies and gentleman! My book, a collection of prose and poetry is now available for purchase on Amazon.com. I will be sure to add a link soon for the book to be purchased. Today is one of the happiest days of my life. If you buy the book, I hope you enjoy! 

UPDATE: It may still not be available today. For certain it will be available for purchase tomorrow.

Life as an Idol

A beautiful and blistering satire of society. Can you figure out who the real mannequins are?

Life as an Idol


Stuck in the same position; unable to move and unable to hide. In front of the window every day, not able to even leave at night or on the weekend. I am stuck like this, having to be an idol to society.

I am the image you must aspire to. You must follow me and my style. Wear what I wear and look how I look. You cannot have any free will for I am your will. If you do not follow my lead, you are a worthless disgrace that should die.

Yet, despite me saying this, I am a hypocrite. I have no free will of my own. I am dressed by others, have no voice to express myself with and cannot move on my own. I need to be moved by others. I always require help. I am just as fake as those who follow me.