“A Little Bit Strange” – A Children’s Book – by Shelby Counts

Quiet Suffering

Quiet Suffering

By: Shelby Counts

---

Don’t say a word.

Don’t even think.

___

Silence.

___

Started out as innocent curiosity,

Turned to vile habit,

But I still believe I’m fine,

Tell myself I have to be.

 ___

Living day-to-day from shattered remains,

Broken family, broken thoughts, broken reality,

Really it’s nothing special, nothing elaborate.

Pain is pain, but I still want to believe I’m fine,

Because I can’t face the reality of what’s wrong with me.

___

Bleed,

Breathe,

Die,

___

That’s all that’s on my mind.

Because I’m a walking tragedy,

Because nothing’s going right and I feel like I should be wrapped in straight jacket,

And I know that I’m not fine,

But the addiction makes me feel so bitterly free.

 ___

I have to take it,

So I won’t live so unhappily,

But it’s all a racket,

Because I’m trapped in the habit, nowhere near fine,

And that’s not something I ever wanted to be.

 ___

But don’t speak a word,

Because I don’t want to remember.

 ___

Pill after pill,

How many did I take?

It doesn’t even matter.

We are Women

We are Women

By: Shelby Counts

I still remember what you told me,

And how shameful of you to think me such a fool,

That you’d think I’d just bow my head and agree silently,

To your completely blasphemous drool,

In which you speak so whole heartedly,

About how a woman is nothing but a tool,

And if we don’t live life on our knees, a better life we’ll never see.

But let me tell you:

We won’t sit and comply with what you want us to be.

 —

I still remember what you’ve done,

And how distasteful of you to think me so weak,

That I’d let your hand touch my flesh just for fun,

And it’s not something that you have the authority to critique,

Because my no is a no and can’t simply be undone,

For what you believe you’re entitled just because of your physique,

And even though in gender equality it’s clear that you’ve won,

If you force your hand I’m not afraid to shriek,

Because I have absolutely no intention to live frightened and on the run.

 —

I still remember your blood stained hand,

And how dare you think I should remain silent in the name of human rights,

So for her and all those that have fallen I will stand,

Even through scorching days and frozen nights,

Because the loss of a life is nothing to remand,

So tall and proud we shall stand and fight,

Even though we are considered second rate in this no man’s land,

And with these words that we recite,

For a change to be made first-hand:

 —

Because we are strong,

Intelligent,

Fearless,

But also victims,

Battered,

And exploited,

But this shouldn’t be the only things that define us,

Because more than anything,

We are women.

I Told You I Was Fine

I Told You I Was Fine

By: Shelby Counts

A bitter smile greeted the familiar faces of both friends and strangers alike. She could see past all the lies they spewed, truly believing them to only possess evil and hate and perhaps she created the lies herself, shutting out any attempt of kindness shown her way. Even her friends could only understand her surface deep with no idea of the shattered remains that lied underneath.

“I’m fine,” the only words that ever came out of her mouth. Lies, she told over and over until she believed it true. But ever so slowly, she became lost in a self-destructive path as the world around her turned black and white, devoid of any color or possibility of hope. She became suffocated by her inner turmoil as the lines began to blur between that of her own mind and reality itself.

Filled with darkness and tortured with words that weren’t hers. If only she could deafen herself to the thoughts that echoed within her mind and threatened to devour her whole. Louder and louder they screamed, as the threads of her own sanity diminished leaving her to drown in the chaos.

TACTLESS

USELESS

WORTHLESS

            They filled her every thought, but they weren’t hers!

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She said as her nails dug deep into her thighs.

She didn’t dare look up into the eyes of the monsters in front of her. These ‘creatures’ should have protected her, yet all they did was fill her with poison. Still they believed they had the right to call themselves PARENTS!

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

She didn’t answer but she didn’t need to. No point she could address or truth she could tell would make them see her pain. Slowly her head fell into her hands as the screaming dissolved into static. The occasional tear following the worn path down her cheek, more out of habit than from actual sorrow. Every insult engraving its way into her mind. Still, she didn’t answer or say a single thing against the twisted devils that stood before her. Even if she did dare to open her mouth the only thing that they would hear would be something so;

TACTLESS

USELESS

WORTHLESS

            Her room provided both refuge and torture. As she sat alone in her small, dark room but she felt no different than that of sitting in a bustling crowd. She was nothing more than a crumbling wallflower that was ignored and pushed to the side like a piece of trash. The room kept her from the tangible threat of people that she painted to be vile even though their only intention was to provide even the smallest bit of help as they watched her fall rapidly to the delusions in her mind. With every second she forced herself to be alone the more the voices would scream and the more she would look for a way out. She may have been by herself but she wasn’t alone as the voices reminded her of the poison that filled her entire being.

TACTLESS

USELESS

WORTHLESS

            “Stop it!”

She screamed as she looked desperately around the room for a source of noise completely unaware that she was the source, that those words were hers! Stumbling over her own feet as she tried to get to the bathroom that adjoined her room as her hands clumsily found the light switch which illuminated the room and burned her eyes. She tuned the faucet and icy water plunged down the drain before her hands interrupted the flow as she splashed the water onto her face. Her nerve shaken hands only shook more as they rubbed her eyes begging for it all to be over.

Just beyond the door she could hear the voice of her mother. “Jess, are you okay?” But just as her mind had twisted every single word before all she heard was a harsh ‘What’s wrong with you?’

Her hand punched the glass in front of her as she screamed, “Nothing! I’m fine!” The glass shattered and covered the sink and floor. Her blood covered hands covered her face as she heard the familiar voice snidely remark;

TACTLESS

            She slowly bent down and picked up a large piece of the broken glass. It had been so long since she had looked at herself and she didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her. Short choppy hair laid unevenly over her forehead and dark circles under her eyes from countless sleepless nights kept awake by the voices that were slowly destroying her and distorting her view of reality.

Her hands traced over the sharp edges of the shard before she fell heavily to her knees as the smaller pieces cut and embedded their way into her skin. The sting was nothing compared to the constant torture that her mind put her through. She couldn’t help but feel so,

USELESS

            She held the piece of glass tightly before repeatedly digging it into her thighs until she couldn’t feel the pain anymore. Her head felt light and she carefully laid herself down on the cold tile and glass covered ground. This was her only way out for being so,

WORTHLESS

            She could hear the sounds of thumps against the door until it finally burst open. She heard a gasp of horror before she was met with the faces of her parents reaching out to her like a fragile bird.

“I told you I was fine.” She said before her eyes felt too heavy to keep open anymore. She couldn’t hear her parents anymore either all she could hear was the softening echo of the voices inside her head.

TACTLESS

USELESS

WORTHLESS

We’ve Done Nothing

We’ve Done Nothing

By: Shelby Counts

It was a common misconception with school children that they could mentally manipulate the will of those weaker than themselves for a purpose of cruelty and power. However in the eyes of their innocence they never saw the injustice that they were committing. ‘The Game’ was never meant to go as far as they took it, and like a broken glass, as soon as it slipped out of their hands there were pieces that simply couldn’t be picked up.

The rules were simple but fragile. If the players in the game even faltered slightly the progress which had been made would crumble. The foundation of the game was built on the four children working together to create little ripples in the daily lives of their targets. Little did they know, their actions would lead to the murder of Judy Watson, a nine year old girl.

“Momma! Momma, look there’s a girl floating in the river!” Nine year old Judy Watson was found in the Rissy River. No one ever knew she was missing because no one ever reported her missing. She was an orphan living home to home. Her behavioral problems kept her from staying in the same bed for very long and it was hard to keep track of the imaginative little adventurer as she would often disappear unannounced into the forest to go exploring for hours. So, her disappearance didn’t raise much suspension. It was beyond belief when her frail body was found covered in bruises and gashes across her face and torso. Innocent crystal blue eyes remained open when her body was found. She had stared into her murder’s as her fate became clear and then her lifeless body was carelessly dumped into the river.

With no leads, the town was anxious and when anyone talked about her they called her ‘That Girl’. In the small, quiet town everyone was stirring about with uneasiness with the thought of living alongside a murderer. One woman without hesitation even remarked; “She was an orphan. She had no parents, no proper upbringing. She probably brought that trouble upon herself. Who knows what kind of trouble she was getting into with nobody watching her!” No one agreed with her, but no one said anything against it either. Everyone just wanted it to be over, like it had never even started. Though, they would have all acted differently if it was one of their children that was beaten, cut, and thrown away like trash. However, it wasn’t one of their children. No, it was a child who had never felt the love of a parent and now, never would.

The parents may have been scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off but the children knew a little more than they were telling. Not just any children, the players of the game.

A gathering of the members was held in an old treehouse with planks missing and ivy covering the outer walls. Silence hung in the air as there were no words to describe the reality of their actions. It felt almost too surreal. A young girl had lost her life and it was on their hands. Four children ranging from ten to fifteen years of age had inadvertently set up the sequence of events leading up to the murder.

“Thomas, I’m scared.” All heads turned to face the youngest of the group. Silent tears were falling from his freckled cheeks as he rocked himself back and forth on the uneven floor of the treehouse.

“Scared? What is it that fills you with fear?” Thomas said bitterly before pausing at the rhetorical question. “It is stated within ‘The Game’ that we are all wound together, supporting each other in each trick we play, lying to cover miscalculations, and working without hesitation to create progress. Not a single person here is any less responsible than another and we will move past this, we have to.”

“And how exactly do you expect us to cleanse our hands of this sin, Thomas? You paint this to be a simple fix but we have played with fire for far too long and have finally been burned by it!” A girl with thick, dark-rimmed glasses shouted at the absurdity of the older boy’s calmness to the topic.

“Abigail, that girl-”

“Her name was Judy, Thomas! Dehumanizing her doesn’t make the situation any less awful, a crime was still committed and you know what? Eric, Julian, and I have nothing to do with this! You’re the one who killed her, not us. You’re the murderer!”

“Am I Abby? I alone am responsible for her death?” Cold eyes glared at the girl before standing up and looking out one of the missing planks. The river wasn’t far from where they were and the rushing water could be heard in the distance. He lifted up his hand and put up his pointer finger. “Little Eric was the one who watched her every day. Memorized her routine and stalked her every move in and out of the various homes she resided. The foundation of this crime rests on his shoulders.” Thomas turned around to face the rest of the group with his hand still raised. Eric’s face was twisted in horror at his part in the crime being verbalized. His arms wrapped around his legs as his rocking quickened.

“This is where we made our first mistake, after paying too much attention to the girl she found us out. Abby you tried to reason with her but she just wouldn’t listen and she did throw the first punch. You simply retaliated until it became excessive and simply cruel. You really should watch that temper of yours.” A smile spread across his face as he put up another finger and Abigail had a look between that of rage and guilt. “But your right, you didn’t kill her. Our pranks could be seen as simple school yard bullying until your act of rage fueled violence. I had to get rid of her to protect us and Julian disposed of the body.” At the call of his name, Julian shuttered but did not look up from the floor or to the four fingers that were now raised.

“There’s no shifting of blame to be made. So, like I said we will move past this. We will have to lie and deceive to wash away any blood that is on our hands.” Thomas folded his arms across his crisp white button up and suspenders. “Did we know Judy Watson?” Thomas looked down at each guilt ridden face awaiting an answer.

“No.” They all said together in a small, mousy voice.

“Do we know what happened to Judy Watson?”

“No.”

“Did you kill ‘That Girl’?”

“No, of course not.” They chanted together still shaken with fear.

It was a clear queue for the end of the game but once the flame was lit it couldn’t be put out. Lying through gritted teeth to the point of believing their own story and creating a false truth to protect the innocence they didn’t have left. Leaving bloodied finger prints where ever they went from hands they couldn’t get clean. Even with no one to object to their lies they would never truly be able to forget.

I Think I’ll Take a Walk Instead

I think I’ll Take a Walk Instead

 

With the way that things are going I don’t think I can take it much longer.

Should I let the red run down my arm until I see the inevitable shine of the light?

No, I think I’ll just take a walk instead.

Maybe it will only save my life for a night.

Maybe it will only save my life for a week, but I just need a little more time.

 

Walking by the same places and familiar faces yet everything is so surreal.

Can they see that I’m not as happy as I used to be?

Can they tell that the smile on my face is clearly painted on?

I can hear their voices as clear as day and the way the children play and laugh is light and frothy as it fills the air.

Such happiness, I wonder if there was a time I was like that,

I wonder if I could get to be like that again.

The further I walk away the further the sound of the suffocating laughing becomes.

 

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I could just continue to just keep walking.

Would anyone miss me?

The day when I can just walk and never look back, is that truly peace?

Alas, I have to turn and face all the darkness that I had left in my shadow.

All my problems and fears just screaming to be acknowledged in my darkening shadow.

Making me scared to turn around and face the demons.

What’s Wrong Ana?

What’s Wrong Ana?

By: Shelby Counts

Nothing but a sickly, thin, skeleton walking,

Looks like a corpse until she starts talking,

Just sits there with her food, stalling.

Never seen her eat, but if she did, she’d spend her time purging.

She’s desperately trying to fit into what society’s distorting,

And if you ask her; “What’s wrong Ana?” she’ll end up crying,

 Because every breath she takes, she’s closer to dying.

 –

Everyday she’s getting sicker and sicker,

She can’t risk getting any ‘thicker’.

At least that’s what she says to keep her ‘ideal’ figure,

But this ‘ideal’ isn’t real and she should really reconsider,

Because she can’t get out of this disaster a winner,

But she has no hope left, no desire of getting any better,

And if she keeps it up, she’s going to end up as her own killer.

 –

She’s filled with nothing but madness,

Her ribs are showing, but all she wants is model status.

She’s hanging on to the edge of death but she’s helpless.

Any rational thought, she just can’t access,

But it’s not her fault, it’s the media’s high expectations we refuse to address,

And she just got caught up in the mess,

Because she believes her only purpose is to impress.

 –

But she’s never going to reach this illusion of perfection,

It’s just an unhealthy obsession,

And it’s spreading fast, like an infection.

Oh, and did I forget to mention,

That this ill-willed intention,

Is leading to nothing but a painful deterioration,

So, welcome to Ana’s conviction.

If I Don’t Tell You Now

If I Don’t Tell You Now

By: Shelby Counts

Truth is, that I never loved you,

But I know you loved me.

With all my helpless lies,

Lingering goodbyes.

I made your broken fantasy seem to be a reality.

So let me tell you with only honesty,

That I never loved you,

Not even when you told me that I was the only one,

Not even when you kissed me for the first time.

I held my tongue,

Thinking maybe I’ll grow attached too.

I waited and waited,

Breathlessly holding my hand in yours,

Waiting for that day to come.

So more than anything else in the world,

I’m sorry,

That I never loved you,

That I never could love you,

Because I really did try.

I Love You Dearly

I Love You Dearly

By: Shelby Counts

Every day we follow the same routine.

I sit at my lovely table number sixteen,

And you come to my table repeating the same verse.

If it didn’t feel so perfect I would think it a curse,

But as the pattern ensues and the repetition sets in,

It feels all new, like a story ready to begin.

–

A tale of our beautiful life,

How I met you, my beautiful wife.

Though, I haven’t told you yet,

But it is only a matter of time before that date is set,

And we are wound eternally together,

With love that will never wither.

–

Though I must say that today is like no other.

Your smile is facing to that of another.

It lingers and your eyes are gripped to every word he speaks,

And a bright blush rises to your cheeks.

Do you still think of me?

Or is he all that you can see?

–

There is no other choice,

So tonight when you think you’re alone and safe, you will hear my voice.

But I promise it’s only because I love you  dearly,

That I had to prove this to you so clearly.

My feelings that seem to fuel this illusion,

And fill you with terror and utter confusion.

–

After all you don’t even know my name,

You haven’t the slightest clue of who I am or my aim.

But it’s all going to end the same.

With my clothes drench in your red stain,

And your corpse six feet under in a wooden coffin,

To be left and forgotten.

–

I promise it’s only because I love you so dearly.

Playing Wife

Playing Wife

By: Shelby Counts

            Silence was all that could be heard in the manor. Every living soul had fallen deathly silent to the circumstances that had devastated the mansion. The room was flooded with anxious movements and bodies draped with depressing black attire. All were waiting restlessly for the ceremony to begin. Sinking shadowed faces were worn by all, it was clear that it wasn’t a time for new beginnings but for sorrow and remorse.

The unexpected death of a loving husband, father, and friend had shattered each individual whom had the privilege to come in contact with him. Yet the scene was amiss. Caiden, the widow, was unsettlingly calm to the unforeseen tragedy. Her gaze was distant, focused on the raging storm that bashed the window almost endlessly. It had been hours since the storm had begun and appeared that even the heavens were distraught with such an agonizing loss. Her eyes roamed until finally focusing on the coffin which had been tastefully decorated with bright flowers. Surrounded by a pool of black, it appeared to be the only lively thing in the room. Caiden made a final glance toward the window before approaching the coffin. She briefly placed her hand on the lid before going through the double doors which unleashed the unforgiving downpour into the hall. She led the group with her head held high as hushed criticisms came in and out of earshot.

At the coffin, silence had returned amongst the broken family. A murmur of the priest was heard in the background of the downpour. The eldest daughter was wide-eyed, not new to the sight of a coffin but new to the feeling of true mourning. Her silence was drawn from the overwhelming shock of losing her beloved father, the one who had raised her into her teens and molded her into a responsible young adult. She couldn’t help but think that she could have done something. She held herself tight and prayed that he could hear her, hear her goodbyes she could never deliver in person because of the abruptness of the loss. As always, she would have to carry this weight by herself.

The ceremony was beginning to wrap up as did the hellish, freezing rain. As the coffin was slowly lowered into the plot the gathering still held their silence as they waited in their drenched, frigid garments. The only relief was that there wasn’t any more rain dropping from the sky to drown them in. Yet, water still fell. The youngest child held tightly onto his mother’s leg as tears of ignorance fell heavily from his eyes. He knew nothing of what was going on around him, not that his father was dead, not that he was at a funeral, and not that he was now the man of the house. He was too young to understand the depth of the situation at hand. All he knew was that something was wrong. All he knew was that it was alright to cry.

Caiden stood like a statue. She watched as her husband took his last breath and held onto his body until he became cold. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to cry because she felt nothing. How horrible, how could she say such a thing? The man that she married and raised four beautiful children with had just died, and she didn’t feel any remorse? Didn’t she love him at all? She knew at one point she had felt such strong feelings of affection but now it seemed to fade into the distant past. She ran her hand through her wet, tangled hair as she finally felt the tears fall from her eyes. The tears fell lightly as she came to the horrendous realization that there never was any love, at least not on her part. She never loved him at all but instead fell in love with the pattern. Every day was a simple routine that she followed effortlessly with the occasional forced affection. Trapped within the rhythm, she never questioned or objected anything even ignoring her own fading feelings. Tears started to fall more heavily against her face as she started to accept all the time she had wasted. She let the tears continue to fall but didn’t break her composure. She had to cry but she’d be going to hell for it. At her own husband’s funeral she cared more selfishly about herself than the lies she sent her husband to the grave with. Knowing this she still couldn’t bring herself to feel any emotion for him. What kind of wife could do such a thing? What kind of person could be so heartless? Yes, for sure she’d have a special place in hell waiting for her.