week 5

the suburban ghosts weekly prompts (6th feb—12th feb) 1. bloodstained moonlight 2. anachronism  3. screams coming from the boys locker room 4. stick and poke tattoo 5. crushing rat skulls in the garden shed 6. cauterise the wound

the suburban ghosts weekly prompts (23rd jan—29th jan) 1. boarding the wrong train 2. an apparition in the hallway 3. deathless 4. who killed mrs wilson? 5. telephone cord asphyxiation  6. the haunting auction

1. i made a deal with the devil and it went like this: he said kiss me and i was hooked, he said come with me and i said where, he said it’s a one way trip and i was too far gone to give a damn.

2. i made a deal with the devil and it went like this: i met him in the dark and he glowed white, i touched him with a trembling hand and he was solid all the way through. take him to bed and you’ll know he’s a sinner before you even see the fire in his eyes.

3. i made a deal with the devil and it went like this: he was handsome, he smiled and it made you feel easy, smooth around the edges, like maybe you weren’t so hard to look at after all, and suddenly you’re handing yourself over and there’s no white light for you.

4. i made a deal with the devil and it went like this: i’m making offers he can’t refuse, trading myself off piecemeal, an eye for an eye, hand for a hand, heart for a heart and she’s dead on the floor.

5. i made a deal with the devil and it went like this: he called me up on the landline and i ripped it from the wall as soon as i heard his smirk. oh, you do that and they won’t find you for days, your last rattling breath still echoing off the tile.

6. i made a deal with the devil and it went like this: soul for sale, i’ve been here too long—my knuckles are white from holding on and i guess you could call that surviving but it ain’t enough, baby, i want to burn, this time i said take me home and his smile scorched.

the suburban ghosts weekly prompts (16th jan—22nd jan) 1. chain-link fences 2. wonderland is rotting 3. gangrene  4. cracked glass 5. something buried in the garden 6. abandoned body

to forsake your own heart:

step one. listen to the rattle, there is no one here but you; don’t you remember, you asked for this? just you and the weeds and the rust—just you dry heaving in the grass, spitting blood in the dirt, because maybe if you try hard enough you can bleed this poison out. this is where it begins, with solitude, with your ears ringing in the silence.

step two. walk the wasteland / run your hands over the wreckage / here, where gleaming teeth lay amongst the shattered porcelain / here,  where the smoke still hangs like a death sentence / here, where spears and skulls lay like offerings in the cobblestones / here, where you laughed and cried and felt / here, where the emptiness echoes without relent.

step three. it’s not so much noticing a presence as noticing an absence, and normally you wouldn’t, only you can’t find a pulse point anymore, only when you press your fingers to your wrist there is no response. pry your ribcage open to look (maybe more carelessly than you should) and you’ll see it, dead tissue choking your veins and smothering your heartbeat, rot spilling from the gaps.

step four. what a congregation of broken dreams, shards littering the floor—the stench of perfume still clogs the air and you can’t find room to breathe. (or maybe there’s no more bloodstream, no more oxygen, the bloodstains on the tile have been there so long who knows who knows who knows where they come from / maybe the fog in the air is all in your head and the smell is just hallucination.)

step five. leave it in the dirt, kick it over for good measure, suffocate the last struggling pulse. what good it did you, to bleed and bleed again, a ritual that bore no fruits and woke no gods. pour the gas and drop the match, you won’t be needing it again; let it burn until the flames of your funeral pyre lick the heavens and leave you blind.

step six. i never knew angels until i became one in an endless fall of disgrace. what burns angels but scalding iron, leaving scars on sacred shoulder-blades? they’ll never warn you but you lose your prayers and your cries ring out to empty atmosphere. somewhere below (somewhere above): a distant pulse to remind you of your lost humanity.

thanks so much to everyone who entered - we really enjoyed looking through all your beautiful blogs, and we ended up following a bunch we weren’t earlier and even added a few additional categories! without further ado, here are the winners for our tumblr awards. (winners are italicized)

here’s a reminder of what you won - prizes are all upon request :)

the suburban ghosts weekly prompts (7 Jan —12th Jan)

1. burnt knuckles 2. rabbit holes 3. what lies at the bottom of the lake 4. convulsing 5. hatchet under your pillow 6. dried blood on the doorknob

1.  i’ve driven this road too many times to count, wearing away the asphalt, half-drunk on the smell of burning rubber and my fingers numb on the wheel. this road is tired and so am i.

2.  i can’t remember when i jumped. either loving you was a delusion or losing you was a trip.

3.  the last time i kissed you i was humming with desperation. i said baby don’t go but i should have said baby you were a mistake, baby you loved me all wrong. i should have thrown the ring as far as it would go. i wish i could’ve watched it sink. i wish i’d disappeared with it. i haven’t gone back to the lake since.

4.  my heartbeat was exhausting; i woke up at three forty-four and the walls were shaking with it. i ripped my heart out with my fingernails and left it in the bathtub; when i woke it was still there, pounding with disease.

5.  the bogeyman is here and he’s a stunner, he’s all soft lips and pink cheeks and he’s in your bed before you even remember the word no. watch your back or he’ll leave you empty, leave you aching, leave you wanting. sleep with one hand curled under your pillow, sleep ready to kill or he’ll do it first.

6.  i’ve gone up in flames too many times to burn again. i am out of prayers, out of wishes, tired of wanting and tired of aching. i’ve been bleeding too long to care about the stains.