Fighting For It

This is just gonna be where I post all of the poems that I write on here. I also put them on my dA (Cenitopius.Deviantart.Com) and my Facebook for those of you who already have it. This series would probably have been called 'A Little Bit of Poetry' if it weren't for the fat that Fighting For It (101) was so descriptive of the whole series in it's name that I had to use it here as well.

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14. Fall Down

I’m moving gently forward, over the wild and beautiful world below. I’m floating in silence, but breaking it up with the sound of my breath. Above me, there’s nothing but shimmering light – the place I’ve come from, and will go back to when I’m finished here. I’m flying.

    I’m a Ghost.

    I’m going lower, past the wrinkled towns and dark houses, towards a large mansion, where a group of kids wait. As I swim through the air, screams follow me, taunting the very souls of the children as they echo outwards.

    They would choose today of all days, wouldn't they?

    The drive was dying, though not as quickly as the house. It had a set of tiles set out in squares that had weeds sprouting in between to the point where there were more weeds than actual drive. Walking down it was like walking through a jungle.

    The strange building was run down, and hadn’t been touched in years. If it weren't for my ‘friends’ stood by the fence, watching me, I would have turned and ran by now. I would be out of here; at home, in a warm bed, or at the very least with a warm mug of hot chocolate.

    But I wasn’t. The cold breeze that sent shivers down my spine on this grey day told me so. Like an introvert, I drew my over-shirt around my arms and began to shiver violently before they ‘happened’ to look at me, edging me towards the fence.

    My phone vibrated in my pocket sharply. Two separate buzzes ran down my leg, making it start to shake. At least I knew I had that with me, just in case. I took it out of my jeans pocket and checked my messages.

    One. ‘Chicken’. I turned, finding my so called friends to be sniggering behind me, and I figured I had very little to lose right then and there. So I took great, pseudo-confident strides towards the door of the house. I don’t bother knocking; none of that chicken stuff, I thought.

    After all, I could see straight into the house since the door was struggling through its last days. I walked in, trying to quickly find out where the living room was. In ten minutes I could leave, but until then I had to walk around and come up with a fake map of the house to tell to the guys – maybe a couple of stories about the different rooms and stuff that was in them.

     

    All this, and today was Halloween; the most boring, the coldest and darkest and most idiotic holiday of the year. They drag me out, ‘let’s go trick-or-treating,’ and now look where I am. Not trick-or-treating, at the least.

    I check my phone again. 17:31, so ten minutes had passed. Long enough, I think. Not that they’d take that as an excuse for leaving so early. I go back the fallen door, ready to step back out of the house onto the driveway, tell my friends the place way either empty or creepy, but I never reached the fallen door.

    No, I didn't die or anything; the door just wasn't fallen, anymore. In the ten minutes I was gone – mind you, it felt more like five minutes – someone had fixed the door? But then I tried the door, and my stomach sank. I could feel all hell rising from beneath my feet, because all of a sudden this place was definitely not empty, because all of a sudden I heard footsteps.

    All the houses on this street were exactly the same. One guy built all of them, and the very best you could hope for was a different paint-job if you wanted to be different. Now the worst part of the footsteps was that I lived not far from here, in an identically roomed out house, and they have no basement. Despite that, the footsteps weren’t coming from anywhere in the house, because they were coming from the basement.

    I slammed my weight against the door, but nothing happened. So I did it again, and again, a third time, fourth, fifth, and the sounds echoed around, not quite spaced right from one another. The walking sounds stopped, and I threw myself against the door one last time.

    I couldn't believe where I ended up.

    I remember reading one time about something called non-Euclidean space. Basically, it means that you could walk through a doorway that you know leads to one place, but end up walking out of another doorway. Someone came up with the idea that if we could use it, we could make houses that take up no room, or have a freezer in Antarctica to keep our food cool naturally. I asked about it once in physics, and I was told its all fiction – all just something that someone made up because it was an interesting idea. God that was dead wrong.

     

    I burst through the door and out onto the basement floor, scrambling to my feet to look behind me. The door was already closing, and when I tried to open it again it was locked.

    Locked? From which side? I was just on the other side, and no-one else was there to lock it, but there’s no-one here but me to lock it from this side. So what, the latch just moved by its self?

    While I doubt I might ever have come up with an answer to a question like that, my thoughts were interrupted. The worst thing possible happened – steps echoed throughout the basement as the door slowly opened to show the most horrifying thing – the basement, from the view of the doorway.

     

     

    So that’s why I’m here. I’m moving gently forward, over the wild and beautiful world below. I’m floating in silence, but breaking it up with the sound of my breath. Above me, there’s nothing but shimmering light – the place I’ve come from, and will go back to when I’m finished here. I’m flying.

    I’m a Ghost.

    I’m going lower, past the wrinkled towns and dark houses, towards a large mansion, where a group of kids wait. As I swim through the air, screams follow me, taunting the very souls of the children as they echo outwards.

    I know that I can’t do anything to help the kids going into the house again today, but I do know what lies in wait for them.

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