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From
the Republic of Nightmarish Reality Emily
Shellabarger The young girl
sat on top of the hill Picking green
roses from the red grass As the violet sun
smothered the horizon. She looked like
my sister, But her eyes were
as black as the spiders Crawling on her
arms. Little drops of
acid rain Fell hard on her
fragile body. She cried out;
her black eyes Spilled rivers of
bloody tears. I ran to her up
the slope, But the ground
pulled me in With forceful
power. I was spinning
into the earth Like water being
sucked Down a
bathtub’s drain. I could not help
her. A cold hand
touched the bottom of my foot, And rescued me. I
must have overslept. It
must be time for school, But
it’s still so dark. “We’re going
to pick up grandma.” My mother’s
voice rattled me From my hazy
awakening. “Grandpa passed
away.” I rolled over in
my bed With one warm
tear On my cheek Longing for the
sound Of an alarm clock
To wake me up From life’s
nightmare.
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