• When I awake I sense time has passed. I grab some clothes and walk to the shower. I turn it on and feel the cold sting upon my skin. I smile, thinking to myself how people think that I am so much like the moon. No one knows how my dreams in my mind, never voiced in my nightly dreams or by my mouth, are passionate and ardent with untold fantasies of butterflies, music, of flying, and of falling. Of a world where I can fit in and feel things. The shower is hot now and I step in, feeling the hot water raining down my back, relieving the knot in my neck of its duty. I feeling of peace, not emptiness fills my soul like water to a cup. I smile and after I am done I dress and pull back my sopping hair in a ponytail and turn down the stairs. When I get to the bottom I notice an eerie silence. I treaded softly into the living room and gasped. My father held the lady by her dark as ebony hair, her violet eyes glazed with fear, staring up at him like a deer stares at the predator before they are consumed. He stares at her, his white hair obscuring his furious gold eyes. As cold as I am sometimes, this is my chance to do something that might make me feel. My feet though feel sluggish, as if they are cemented to this place. Then, he acknowledges my presence. He stares at me with abhorrence trying to pierce me with deadly daggers of his hate. I swallow a small lump within my throat.
    "Let her go…" I say aloud, surprising them, and myself, my voice matured in an instant.
    "No, this b***h gave me a damned child. And she refuses to produce anymore. I am stuck with her until she dies damn it!" He said, his words slurring together like chalk in the rain, telling me he was intoxicated.
    "It is not her fault she is not reproducing at this time. Don't hurt her you drunken buffoon." I calmly stated; I could feel my eyes getting colder, and crueler. He flinched under my gaze. Even in his current state he still thought I was arctic.
    He thought better of hurting her in front of me, and stormed up the stair like a bull. I lightly stepped to her side. I took a look at her for injuries while she stared at me in astonishment. No injuries that were bleeding. I stood up as did she and we stared at each other.
    "Maybe drink a little less." I said before walking into the kitchen. It seemed like I was the parent , protecting her from the big bag bully. I smiled, wishing she could stand up for me like I had just done for her. Inarizushi was my choice today and I walked out. I looked over as a pair of children walked away with their ball seeing that someone had walked out of the "accursed" house. I sighed as I looked at the sky, dusk nearly here. I sat and ate the food I had taken and watched the sky as it turned to different colors.
    When I had finished, night had fallen. Paper lanterns had been lit to illuminate the street. When the illuminator passed me, I saw him stare loathingly at me. I ignored it. I was still used to it, though my eyes had opened to the emptiness inside myself. I looked to the sky, watching the stars, and wondering if I'd ever fit in anywhere. I've heard of stories that this is where a friend comes up and tells them everything will be okay. My story has no friends, no family, just those who despise me. I sigh as I continue to watch the stars, feeling the truth, that I am only one fading star in this giant sky and that one star does not make much of a matter.
    I wait for dawn to break and then reenter the house. The lady and man have fallen asleep. I creep up the steps to my bedroom, and pull a box out from under my bed. I open it gently once I sit upon my bed. I look at the things inside it. There is a azure butterfly wing I found in a spider web, a dried up white rose, a red feather from a puckish cardinal, a rock that looked like a heart with a crack inside it, and a crystal hourglass. I think of these things as my secret treasures. I look at them with a small gleam in my eyes, though I never let out how I feel about things, not even to my mind. I put them back in the box and walk out to the drugstore. They will sell me, but under their vindictive gazes.
    I walk in and go to the art section. This is my favorite part, staring at wonder in the new brushes just in, or some of the finest pens. Just smelling the new scrolls brings light to my dull impassive eyes. I pick out a brush set and bring out my money, more than enough for them. I walk to the counter and lay them there. The clerk, is a vile girl named Kiro with ratty black hair and green eyes that show the truly envious monster that she is in the trench that she calls a soul. She stares at me maliciously as she rings my purchase and bags it. I give her the money and exit, feeling her daggers slicing into my back, yet not caring in the least. When I return to my place of dwelling I start to draw on a scroll. I feel the willow tree running through my hand, along with a young girl, no more than five sitting at the base of it.
    That's the thing about art, you don't choose the art, it comes through your hand when it is meant to. It flows like a river, sometimes blocked by the obstacles in life, like leaves and rocks clutter up a river. I close my eyes and let it flow freely. When my hand is done I open my eyes and see my usual handy work. Some would treasure a picture like this, call it an endowment and lock me up to draw for the rest of my days. I chose to hide it for that very reason. I have about 23 scrolls collecting dust in a truck in the far right corner by my window. I look at the sun and remember the moon…it was waning gibbous, meaning it had been about 4 days when I slept. I don't usually sleep like that, but then again, I don't outburst like that either. I sighed, and laid down in my bed, not bothering to change into night clothes and closed my eyes, for another restless sleep.