Taken and Psychic 2“Sammy?” gasped Dean. The boy looked at him with scared eyes that sent a chill down Dean’s spine.“Love, are they?” the boy with the blue streak asked hesitantly.“Yes, Seth.” sighed Sam.(Dpov)“Dean, what are you talking about?” stuttered a wide eyed Caleb.“That’s Sammy, Cales.” whispered Dean as he elbowed Caleb softly, shocking all the hunters besides John who was in a state of shock at his youngest son.Suddenly there was hysterical laughing, that sounded like crying.(Spov)There was laughing from behind me. I turned and glared at Azazel.“Shut up Azazel!” yelled Seth, before saying a phrase in an language the hunters didn’t understand and pressing his hand to Azazel’s forehead."No no no." the YED cried before a scream sounded out of his throat and yellow smoke came rushing out of his mouth, before it was sucked into the floor.“What the hell?” came from the group of hunt
A Very Synacky Halloween! Part 1 The moon glowed bright in the sky, a warehouse right of the high way into a woodsy area. The warehouse windows were either cracked or missing, replaced with a dark gray cover. Music blaring, spider webs covered the entrance of the warehouse, covered in spiders, ranging from black to purple. Jack-O-Lanterns sat all around the walk way and throughout the patches of overgrown grass. They shone a wicked orange, giving them a sinister look, a line of teens, joking and laughing."Come on Zacky!" called a crazy haired boy who was dragging a smaller boy with black and purple colored haired."But Jimmy!" whined the boy."No, you're not missing this party!" growled Jimmy.Signing, Zacky gave up struggling making Jimmy smile."Hey guys!" said a boy with shades and ripped black jeans."Mattie!" was screamed as Jimmy let go of Zacky and jumped on Matt, giving him a tackle hug and a deep kiss.Laughing at the scene, Zacky rolled his eyes at the sight that happened almost ever
Taken and Psychic 1The house looked like something straight out of a horror film. It was old and rickety; the gray exterior leading itself to age the building, the broken windows telling about an old haunted history of pain and suffering. Cobwebs had formed in just about everywhere and a layer of dust covered every surface. The yard was overgrown with grass and weeds making it hard to see the arrival of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, a black ford truck, and a beat up red, rusting truck from the eighties. The Impala was first to stop. A man with short black hair and dark warm brown eyes, he was standing outside of the driver's side."Dean, Caleb stay in the car until I say so
ok?" said the man."Yes dad," said Dean in a bored tone."Yes Johnny, we gotcha," chuckled Caleb."Good, I'll be right back." He called as he walked to the black truck."Why does he do that?" asked Dean."Do what?""Make us wait! I'm not a child! I'm a grown man. For chrisakes I'm twenty-one, Cales!" was whispered harshly.
Days Without YouI'm laying awake at night.Thinking of you,Kills me inside.Knowing your gone forever.Lost here without you.I need you with me,Cause it kills me,But when I sleep,It's like your with me.I wish some way,You were with me.But I'll have to wait until I sleep,To be with you.
Wasn't There?If I wasn't here tomorrow?Gone and never coming back ?Would you care?Or would you lose sleep at night?Lost in my own mind.Lost in the dark.Pleading silently for help.For someone to pull me out of my own hell.
You Are BeautifulHey there friend,I have something I need to tell you -You are beautiful.Whether you are a cute little pixieOr a voluptuous goddess;Whether your body is a rolling landscapeOr a smooth, flat tropical beach.This is something I really must stress -You are beautiful.Whether your hair is blondeOr brown or blackOr red or green,Long or shortOr tied up at the backOr not there at all -You are beautiful.Whether you wear short skirtsOr button-up shirts,Or torn up jeansAnd band t-shirts;Whether you dress all in pinkOr blue or blackOr every colourTo the sky and back -You are beautiful.Whether you don your make-upLike war paint,Or you wear none at all -You are beautiful.Whether your body is an art galleryOf scars and stretch marks,Or as smooth as honey;Whether you hang out in parksOr libraries or malls or bars -You are beautiful.Whether you stride aroundAs the magnificent force you are,Or you ride a wheelchairLike royalty in a carriage -You are beautiful.Whethe
For those who are teasedPity thosewho throw knivesat your back,for you'vedevelopedsteel armor,and they're leftwith porcelain skin,and broken knives.
he saved me, but he killed me._i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest. it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes you walked out, your five year old eyes greener thansunlit saplingsyou reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me."what's your name?"daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.I looked at the rose in my hand."Rose."you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.i didn't understand but I knew.ii. i forgot about you for 1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,you shoutedmy name, but i didn't recognize youuntil i saw your eyes.iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.i screamed, and you carried me home.iv. i didn't talk for a week. i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.you sat next to me in the pouring rain,your war
Anxiety attackAs the attack begins,I feel myself slipping away again.And I question things that are better left unsaid.And contemplate if I am better off dead.My anxiety is killing me,I feel my hands shaking.And I am sobbing.And am I dying?I am just trying,To get a grip.But I feel my reality slip through my finger tips.Nothing is real,Except every bit of pain my mind forces me to feel.Every memory that I had shoved away.Is now racing around my brain.It's driving me insane.And my limbs turn to jello.Every time my head hits the pillow,Before I go to bed.I start to panic and I am wide awake instead.More thoughts are swarming around like a hurricane.Please,Make it stop!And just like that,The attack is gone.
Humans Are Like RagdollsMaybe humans are like ragdolls.Some of us are manufactured,With stitches that are a bit off.And we get put back on the shelf.While others are made perfectly,Included with bows and pretty dresses.But eventually we all get loose strings,And we become such tattered, worn out things.We all eventually pull at these loose endsUntil we all unravel.And some can be sewn back together,While others are broken forever.
BipolarThere's that moment when I wake up in the morning,And without a warning.I feel myself plunge into the ocean.As my thoughts drown me,Like anchors tied to my ankles.And I feel the water all around me.I am being consumed by the sea,Of me.My mind is my own worst enemy.There's that moment when I wake up in the morning,And I get that feeling.In my chest,But it's not pain.I feel like I am actually sane.Or maybe a little more than that,I feel creativity and happiness,And just plain joy.I can't describe this emotion,I just know that I actually feel alive.Maybe even more than that.And I can laugh and I am okay.But then there is the next day.And the next,Until it all goes away.And then I am neutral.I am not manic.I am not depressed.I am not anything.I feel bored, irritated.I don't know what I am.Just plain, nothingness.I don't feel creativity flow through my finger tips,I feel this might be a sinking ship,As neutral,Fades to the next hour or so.And I am once aga
Just A KissJust one kiss,Would be great.To be loved by you,But I know,That wont happen.I feel I'm not worth,your love.Just a kiss,wouldn't be enough.