Blind me from fate and hear my cries, but you still leave me hung from your cross.
I lay on my bed. The snowy static is silently defining, as it fails to find contentment between chaos and contentment. With a seldom tap of a button, and immersed in darkness I myself with a sudden eclipse of security, I close my eyes in a desperate hope of escape. The sound of raindrops at my window are somewhat consoling, but it cannot drown out the white noise that still rings in my head. Time passes, and my fear begins to tire. But something pulls me from my pending dreams, a whisper from beneath cum-stained sheets. Whispers that warm my heart, yet send the deepest chills through my body that I have ever known. My name is Apple, and there is a monster that lives beneath my bed.
Once there was a young girl, just like any other. She lived in an ordinary house on an ordinary street, with ordinary parents who brought her ordinary shoes, and sent her to a delightfully mediocre school with mediocre students. But with all things so ordinary, what more is one to know? As this girl grew she began to realize that perhaps her life hadn’t been so ordinary. Perhaps her happily acute steeple that sat on her ever so slightly tilted home, warmly encasing her black school shoes with white pointed tips that carried her to school day in and day out. Or the students that never spoke a word to her, perhaps the teacher with the curiously off-center nose had never saw to inform her that there would be more to this world than she had ever come to realize.
Who could know what would happen to little Zee without her tastefully tattered wooden blinds to hide her from the world. But one thing was for certain, a curious youth can never deny their incandescent heart. Whether in the business of killing cats or otherwise, one should always let the unforgiving winds of fate sweep you away. For even failure seems an awfully big adventure.
