NaPoWriMo: Lets get writing!

Hello Everyone! I am taking part in NaPoWriMo this year! thats 30 poems in 30 days. So I will be writing a poem daily however the poems will be published twice a week!(allowing proper editing time).
So I will be posting the poems for that week every Tuesday and Friday of the month! I would love for some feedback and can’t wait to see others contributions to NaPoWriMo!

Lets get writing!

-A.L.Tucker

Tears of a Killer part 2

She doesn’t hear the two figures approaching the clearing, emerging from the trees. One rushes to her side, cradling her to his body. The other just stares down with cold eyes. She stops screaming and pushes her younger brother, Malcom, away.

            “Put your clothes on Shae.” She looks up, her eyes locking onto her older brother.

            “Leave me alone.” She tells him, pulling her knees to her chest. Her older brother grunts, throwing the clothes at her.

            “I said leave me alone, Damon.”

            “And I said put your clothes on.” His tone is harsh and demanding. Shae had no other option but to comply. Picking up the clothes she awkwardly wiggles into them, without standing up.

            “Happy?” She glares at her brother before turning to sit with her back to him. Malcom sits in front of her, trying to put on a smile but failing.

            “Did you do it?” Damon asks and Malcom’s mouth drops.

            “Jesus Damon, can’t you be a bit more sensitive?” Shae snorts at Malcom’s question.

            “Him? Sensitive? I’d love to see the day he discovers emotions. He won’t survive with the wounds I gave him.” She replies.

            “So you killed him?” He asks again.

            “I said he won’t survive.”

            “Is he dead?” Damon’s tone shows he’s losing patience.

            “Isn’t it enough that he won’t survive? Can’t you just leave it at that?” She stands, squaring up to her brother. He stands ridged, looking down at her. Malcom puts a hand on her shoulder but she shrugs it off.

            “No we can’t leave it at that. You were supposed to kill him. It was an order. You had to kill him. Anyone could have done it but it had to be you.”

            “Why? Arron was harmless, he would never have exposed us. So why?” Shae is close enough she can feel her brother’s breath. The smell is familiar, it’s been in the air all night, and now, it’s causing her stomach to clench. The musty metallic odour of iron and copper.

            “So you would have no more ties to this place.” Malcom mumbles, causing Shae to look at him.

            “What did you say?” She takes a step away from Damon and walks towards Malcom. He would be more cooperative. Her sweet little people pleasing brother.

            “So you would have no reason to come back here. When we leave we won’t be coming back. He tied you to this place and you would’ve told him where we were. He was a liability if they found him. You know that.” Malcom confessed, not making eye contact with Shae.

            “So I wouldn’t be tied to this place. He wasn’t my only friend here!” She shouted at her brother and he flinched. In the background Damon began to laugh.

            “Seriously? Are you talking about that damn witch?” Damon spits, balling his fists.

            “Don’t you dare speak about Leah.” She points a finger at him, her jaw tightening.

            “God Shae, you are unbelievable. Who do you think we are running from? It’s because of witches that we have to leave! They are out for us. They want to take away our freedom and enslave us again. It won’t be long before your little playmate and her mother join the rest of them…If they get the chance that is.” Damon smirks causing a chill to run up Shae’s spine. Everything about his posture sent alarm bells ringing in her head. He knew something she didn’t and it worried her.

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” She grips Damon’s shirt but he pushes her away.

            “Now you’ve done it.” Malcom mutters, looking into the forest.

            “I swear if you have done anything to Leah or her mother…”

            “We have done nothing.” Damon says, looking away from Shae and in the same direction as Malcom. Shae looks too and her heart stops when she sees the glow. Orange and red light illuminated the night sky, as if it was desperately trying to capture the moon and stars. Shae feels sick looking at the sight, it was as if her body could feel the heat and the destruction that accompanied it.

            “No…” She whispers before she takes off, running as fast as she can; in the direction of Leah’s house.

*

Leah’s farmhouse is intact, a ring of fire surrounds it, keeping people and wolves alike out. Leah stands at her front door, her mother in the garden, close to the fires edge. Shae’s father stands speaking to a group of people, taking about a way to get through the fire unscathed.

            “LEAH.” Shae runs towards the fire, only to be grabbed by Damon.

            “I can’t let you go in there.” He tells her, tightening his grip. The fire rages on, the heat stealing the breath from Shae. Seeing her friend, Leah rushes from the safety of her home, her mother grabs her wrist.

            “Don’t go out the circle. They’ll kill you.” Releasing her wrist Leah continues to the edge of the flames.

            “Are you okay?” Shae asks her and she nods, tears in her eyes. Shae frowns, her friend never cries. Anger grows in the pit of her stomach. Her family has done this. Her dad did this. Forcing her way out of her brother’s grip, she rushes towards her dad.

            “Stop this right now.” She demands, getting his attention. He looks around her narrowing his eyes at Damon. He looks at the ground avoiding his father’s gaze.

            “You aren’t supposed to be here.” He states, his face emotionless as he focuses his attention on her.

“I won’t say this again. Stop this.” She threatens, taking a step closer to her father.  “You don’t give out orders.” He hisses at her, taking a step himself. She should back

down. This isn’t just her father. It’s her alpha. The leader of the pack. She should back down.           Shae straightens herself, holding her head high.

            “One person I cared about died tonight. I’ll be damned if I let another die because of you.” Shae moves to stand in-between the fire and her dad. Leah stands next to her mother, holding her hand. The flames begin to calm, lowering at Leah’s request. She will be prepared to help her friend. If Shae is willing to stand against her father for her, Leah won’t let her fight alone.

Shae’s father approaches, stopping in front of her, but he stares behind her at the two witches. They remain behind the safety of the fire, carefully watching him in return.

            “You’re already damned.” He reminds her.

            “I’ve got nothing to lose then.” She responds before walking backwards into the flames. Trusting, that they will not burn her.

Thanks for reading! I would love some feedback so feel free to comment! – A.L.Tucker

Whispered Secrets

Skin, dark as the night sky.

Rounded daggers highlighted by hair, 

the colour of frost with the softness of silk. 

Whispering its secrets, 

Whispering its warning. 

Do not come any closer. 

It scratches but doesn’t stab. 

Stings, but does not bleed.

it fears ruining a flower so pure.

But all thats needed- 

is a scrape. 

A tiny little prick.

Why didn’t you listen?

Can you taste the poisonous tang

as it travels through your body?

You should have listened,

to the secrets it shared. 

Because some secrets- 

are deadly.

– Ashleigh Tucker

The Tears of a Killer

Here’s the first 3 pages of a story I hope to write. Let me know what you think!

It was a slaughter. The whole night was just an eradication of any, and all loose ends. Anyone that knew their secret had a target on their back. Even the wind didn’t dare make an appearance. The night’s still and cold, but the smell still made its way to her nose. The warm, tongue curling smell of metallic. In her younger days the smell would’ve put her into a frenzy, but she had matured.

Learnt to control the wild beast.

Lying in the treeline using the darkness- and fallen leaves- as cover she waits. Her eyes are fixated on the empty car park; as if he would just appear. A car stops, leaving the headlights on and a figure gets out. He’s here. Her whole body tenses.

It is time.

He walks closer to the forest, oblivious to what is about to happen. Unaware of the wolf lurking in the shadows. She crouches, hesitating, before crawling forward. A twig snaps under her paw and she freezes, staring at her prey.         

    “Shae?” He calls, looking around for her. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t move. Just watches. He takes out his phone, attempting to call her but there’s no answer.        

     ‘I have to do this. I have to do this. I have to do this.’            

“Shae? Are you there?” Getting closer to the trees he stops. The silence circles her mind. She had to do it, it is her job. She must protect her pack.

‘He’s harmless to the pack,’ She stares at his face; his eyes strain to see into the darkness, ‘He’d never betray us. He would never betray me…’ fear suddenly fills the air as he backs away from the treeline. He’s seen her.         

    “Sha-” She lunges herself towards him, knocking him to the ground. Screaming he struggles, trying to push his way from underneath her.

‘I can’t do this.’  Gripping the arm of his jacket she drags him across the ground.

“SHAE.” Hearing him call her name, his voice riddled with fear and desperation, she lets go of the fabric. For a minute, everything is calm. They watch each other, his gaze shifts between the predator and his car.

‘Please don’t Arron. Don’t run. Let me just think there has to be a way I can sav- ‘ He hurries to his feet and races towards his car.      

 Shae bounds after him, it doesn’t take her long to catch up. She latches onto his arm and drags him to the ground. Blood soaks through his jacket and into her mouth.            

‘No, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to, but I have to. Arron, I hope you understand. I have to do this.’ She drags him across the tarmac like he weighs nothing, compared to her he doesn’t. A fist collides with her nose, yelping she releases him. Gripping his arm, he tries to shuffle out of her reach, but she gets a hold of his leg, keeping him in place. She shakes her head, sending blood across the ground.     

        “Get off!” He lands a kick on her muzzle and she lets go, pawing at her head. He struggles to his feet, trying to get to his car, but she won’t let him get away. She can’t let him get away.          

   ‘I have to do this.‘ Leaping across the car park she knocks him to the ground. Snarling, she stands over him. Spit drips down her muzzle landing on his face. He doesn’t blink or react, he just looks into a pair of familiar blue eyes.           

  ‘I have to do this. I must do this. I have to do-‘       

    “Shae?” His voice is shaky, tears were running down his cheeks. It was a question, but he was certain; those eyes belonged to her.            

“You don’t have to do this.” He says, still unable to move. He’s pinned underneath her large auburn form. If he moves, she’ll kill him. But what if she can’t? This is Arron, one of her best friends. She trusted him with her secret, and now, she has to kill him for it. She doesn’t have a choice.            

‘I-I-I have-I have to- to do this.’ Growling she latches onto his throat, holding him in place. Blood rushes into her mouth as he claws at her face. Frantically he pries at her mouth, his fingers ripping at her gums. Gurgling, he attempts to take a breath. His body suddenly relaxes, and he stops fighting against her. Reaching his hand up, he grips the back of her head and his finger strokes her ear. Loosening her grip slightly, she meets his eyes. They look heavy, paling in colour.            

‘I can’t do this.’ She lets go of him and he clutches his throat. Blood begins to pool around his head from the open wound. Looking around she gets off him, backing away with her tail between her legs; realising what she’s done. He turns his head looking towards her.           

  ‘He’s still alive…but he won’t be for long.’ Turning, she bolts into the trees, letting out an excruciating howl as she runs. Leaving him to the mercy of Mother Nature. She didn’t kill him, but she knew he wouldn’t survive. He was as good as dead.          

   ‘I’m sorry, Arron. I’m so, so sorry.’ Running through the forest everything around her is a blur. She just left him there, bleeding out. She just killed him, like he meant nothing to her; like he was just a stranger worth less than a dead rat on the street. She’s a murderer. A cold-blooded killer. A monster.

‘Arron…I’m sorry…’ With every passing second, the regret and pain deep inside her claws its way to closer to the surface. With each leap through the forest her mind becomes more clouded. All she can see is his terrified expression. The trust he had for her: shattered. The hurt and betrayal on his face, as she clamped her teeth around his throat and forced the life out his body. Reaching the grassy clearing in the forest, she trips. Yelping in pain she rolls across the ground, eventually stopping in a crumpled heap. She lies on the grass, whimpering, as her body begins to change.

            ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m-’ Shae’s whole body begins to shake. She stretches out on the ground, letting out a howl as her bones begin to break and mend, repeatedly. Her paws lengthen to form hands and she digs her nails into the soil as her back arches, and her howl turns into a scream. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through her body the change would kill her. For her ancestors, changing their form used to be effortless, painless and quick; but with each new generation the process gets worse. That is the price of her kind’s freedom. One that was accepted without thinking of the future. One that left Shae naked, panting on the floor, covered in a layer of sweat.          

   “-sorry.” Curling up in the foetal position, she cries. It’s a desperate cry that quickly turns into a scream.

-Ashleigh Tucker

Short Story: Lights

Lights on. Lights off. Lights on. Lights off. Lights on…why hasn’t he woken up yet? I look at the old ragged man. He’s lying on a tattered blanket in the corner of the room. He didn’t want to sleep on the bed, fearful he would make it dirty, alerting the owners that someone stayed in their house while they were gone. It is a nice bed, but I can’t sit on it. If he won’t, I won’t. It’s cold, the open window invites the wind in. I would shut it, to give him even a little bit of the warmth he deserves, but he is concerned he would leave a stench that could never be removed. I feel sorry for him. He thinks of others but doesn’t give himself a second thought. This man that has nothing puts me first. I walk over to him, looking down at his still form. His hands are rough and covered in a layer of filth. No matter how much I try, his hand can’t be cleaned. His grey beard is matted and tangled, like my hair.

He runs his hands through my hair every morning. To make me as presentable as possible. It never really works. I’m always going to be a scruffy mess. It’s one of the punishments of being homeless. Him and I, are not worthy of being presentable. We can’t afford to look nice; can barely afford food, but he always makes sure I have enough.

I return to the light switch. Light off. Light on. Light off… He usually wakes up when I play with the switches. Fearful I will attract attention from the neighbours. He doesn’t move. I wander over to the window, looking out into the night. Other houses have their lights on, probably enjoying some family time or getting ready for bed.

One of the doors open and a woman walks out. She looks around her garden before looking at our house. Pulling her dressing gown tighter around her and makes her way across the road. I rush to him, nudging my nose against his cheek. I pull at his arm, but he doesn’t budge. I run to the light switch.

Footsteps come towards our room. Lights on. Lights off. Lights on. Lights off. Lights on… the door handle twists and the door slowly opens. The woman peeks her head through the gap. Lights off.

I go to the man’s side, trying to hide him from her view. She comes into the dark room. Lights on. She stares at me and I watch her.

‘Hello there,’ she crouches down smiling at me, ‘what are you doing in here?’ I freeze.

‘It’s okay.’ She extends her hand out towards me. I look back at the man and she glances behind me and frowns.

‘I’m not going hurt you.’ She moves towards me slowly, hand still outstretched. What do I do? The man still doesn’t move. She doesn’t seem like a threat. Before I can decide what to do her hand touches my head.

‘It’s okay.’ Her thumb runs across my head and my tail unwillingly thumps against the floor. She’s so warm and gentle. Her hands are smooth and soft.

‘That’s it. You’re such a good boy.’

-Ashleigh Tucker

A Dance With Death

A Dance with Death

You stand before me, waiting.

I stare at your burning hand.

Interested, I take it in my own.

Am I a fool? Or am I brave?

Asexual pair waltzing together,

Uninterested in the bodies left behind.

No longer confined in my cell,

Not chained to my prison.

Round and round we go,

Embracing in a passionate dance.

Side stepping bodies we continue,

Down the smouldering walkway.

No longer do I hear,

The numbing buzz of silence.

The world is alive,

With music that excites my core.

Your hand on my waist is hot,

Leaving a print on my naked soul.

I am dipped low to the glowing coals;

I see your face for the first time.

I have no more breath to give but,

Am I not free?

-Ashleigh Tucker

A Summer Snake

This poem I wrote as a reply to Mary Oliver’s poem ‘The Summer Day’. Oliver’s poem sparked certain emotions which fueled this poem. I recommend reading Oliver’s poem before reading this if you want to view it as a reply or you could read it as it own original poem.

A Summer Snake

Who are you to ask me that?

What if there is nothing I want to do with my life?

What if I cannot decide, and am stuck in this endless cycle

of boredom and silence?

I want to experience a summer day like yours.

I yearn to hear more than the white noise in my mind;

to take a walk without questioning my existence.

I do not see the grasshopper;

in the tall grass lies a snake.

He is coiled and cold.

Staring at me- with never blinking eyes.

His head bobs back and forth, as if he’s sizing me up.

Am I the predator, or prey?

I beg that he does not throw himself at me,

the way your grasshopper did.

Sometimes being attentive is a curse, being aware all the time.

It makes it near impossible

to enjoy a summers day.

Why is your version so sweet, like the sugar in your palm?

Mine is filled with a flicking tongue and venom.

He’s on the move now,

heading straight for me.

Why won’t this snake just leave?

Wrapping his way up my body,

a shiver runs up my spine.

My overactive, anxious mind doesn’t need encouragement.

So why did you ask those questions?

Why don’t I know what to do with this precious life?

I have been bitten.

– Ashleigh Tucker