Anna Torres
Bio
I’m a 39-year old mother and student. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
Stories (160)
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Death rattle
It awakens from its slumber. A great old one. A bellow comes up from below. A beast untamed, a monster unfurled. There’s a giant in the abyss. There’s a leviathan in the void. A colossal extraordinaire. A massive mammoth. A gargantuan hulk. An immense mountain of a cyclops. A titanic elephant of a whale. A dreadnought. A Goliath mastodon. A titan juggernaut. It’s after our ships. It hears our submarines. An enormous himalaya. It’s a mega pharaoh. It’s a prodigious hero. It needed no directions. No GPS, no compass. It owns these waters. A majestic monolith. A towering kraken. The legend is true. It’s come for us all. The myth is a lie. The superstitions can’t help us. A monarch of oblivion, it’s a shadow. It stretches forth into the vastness of the ocean. It’s belching dooms everything in the sea. It’s a blight on the radar. It’s a mistake on the horizon. Sonar can’t capture it. It’s nature is to hide. It preserves, it’s submerged. It will swallow our tears. It will bathe in our blood. The surface is sinking. Our chances are zero. We already lost. We await our watery graves. We wait to drown like the others. Our deaths won’t go recorded. Our surrender won’t leave the whirlpool. How many fathoms do we have left before our death rattles leave our souls? Our battle cries meant nothing. This giant squid brings us home. This ugly octopus brings us home. Cthulhu calls us home
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
The Mountain
The top never changes, I’ve never seen it. The bottom brainwashes you, victimizing you. It forces you into denial. It possesses you like a decrepit demon, turning you into a host. It’s a parasite that can’t be separate from you. I don’t want to share my dreams with you. I want to climb, hand over fist. Fingers then knees. The rope burns but I seize the strength to persevere. Monotonous average ruin is not on my list. Mediocrity is not my forte. The ladder swings like a noose but I hold the line. The defenses are stable but only just. I am one breakdown away from total immobile psychosis. Giving up is easier than trying and failing. Or even attempting and perhaps achieving. The odds we never know, the pendulum is on its own. No stopwatch, no magic lamp. The finish line is a mirage. I don’t want to be born again. I am the eater of wishes, the collector of hopes. The spirits have haunted me with their futures. I have no plans to travel to the past. Seclusion has made a spot for me, a corner with no walls. Solitude has become me, we hold hands underneath the stairwell. We ascend higher somehow. There is only one way to go. Pavement and concrete do not exist. Dirt and grass are beneath me. My grave will be met with such a fury. I will have conquered the North Pole. I will have salvaged shipwrecks in the South. I will have erected monuments in the East. I will have joined the lava in the West. The air is heavy and light-headed. The agony and pleasure have combined. Will it cost me everything? Will it give me a reality check or give me back my insanity? My suffering is not freeing. I am the vessel for continuity, I will go on. The clouds scratch the surface. I’m exhausted for having settled. The intersections turn into crevices. Chasms turn into self-fulfilling prophecies. At which point do I turn back? To which direction is my advantage?How many substantial errors will aim to reign over me? How many conspiracy theories will endeavor to rule over me? I have planted my seeds. I have ventured, I have strived. I have sought, I have sprouted. My beanstalk will soar, my branches will extend. My astral plane will arise, I will walk with giants. I will keep up pretenses, I will claim asylum. My vision is bitter and intense, I sink even lower but I intend to keep going. I have to finish my climb and not delay my inevitable
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Speak, Persephone
Speak to me. He didn’t have to be so mean. Why did I lose all hope? I’ll fight this forever. I’ve been fighting my whole life. I hate my life but only half of the year. When everything is black. Darkness is crowned king. A crown of doom. My grudge of suffering. Beneath the ground, I burn in the pit. The bottomless pit of human souls. An ocean of massive hysteria. A mountain of melancholy. Where am I now? Is it time now? To leave everything behind? A captive bride taken from home. I couldn’t just be, I was taken from me. To Gehenna, to Abaddon. Open were the gates to welcome one of their own. My captor: Hades, Anubis, Pluto. Shiva, leave me be! Please stop! All become winter and dies. My mother weeps and I’m punished. He whispers for me to let go. I can’t beg anymore. I have to take what’s coming to me. The day ends, the loneliness begins. Speak to me, please. I don’t know what I’m doing here. What the hell am I doing here?
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Ritual
The ritual has begun. The baptism has commenced. The outside went up in flames while we were reborn. To purify, to rectify. We christened ourselves in the blood of our lord. We purged our sins. We aborted our flaws. We are the second coming. Remade in the eyes of our savior. To sanctify our revival. We owe you everything. Our inspiration, our possession. You were the sacrifice we always wanted. A perfect specimen. Our demons feasted on your purity. Our devil was a gracious host. We devoured your disembowelment. Dreadful screams, tasty blood. We carved our symbols into your willing flesh. You healed us all. We honor your courage. You gave us asylum, you gave us sanctuary. Sanctum, refuge. We are a new haven until the next necessary victim. The next casualty, the next fatality. We need to be reborn again and again. To be redeemed. To be reawakened once more.
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Off with your head
I didn’t come here for your promises. I came for your head. I haven’t taken your life yet. I took out your gunman. I didn’t come here for a tank war. I came to watch the light dim from your eyes. I haven’t taken out your infantry. I took out all your arrows.
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
I am the fire
I’ve burned my bridges. I’ve set alight the tunnels. The match is burning. The gasoline is alive. The bomb is one explosion away from an inferno. Some people don’t like the fire. But I am the fire. The flames reach higher than the sky. No fear because I’ve been set ablaze. Gunpowder has gone away. This atrocity is ferocious. This diesel is breathtaking. Jet fuel is another alternative. My torch won’t run out. The smoke ignites. The pit goes up in a flash. The melting flickers. The cremation remains. The ashes are broiled and incinerated. I am the arsonist. I am the fire. I am indestructible.
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Siren’s song
The song is a lullaby. An epic tune meant to lure me into a trap. The sirens are brainwashers. They are the cause of my yearning. Dark matter is light. They are cunning. They play their screwed up games. I am tethered and out of control. A mermaid on land, a goddess that drowns. They seduce me with lies. They rape me with deception. It’s an infection. My dilemma is my death. A diety with her sights on me. My muse, my inspiration, my undoing. Their voices are fatal. Creators of human destruction. The pagans had no better plan. I can’t seem to run away. A prophetic prostitute. A virgin deflowered. Immoral conquests. I can’t undo the past. I can’t look away. An ancient basilisk. A forgotten fable. They call to passing travelers and they call to me. Enchantress, why do you torment me? Why do you charm the life out of me? Witch, why do you bewitch me? Am I prey to be ensnared? To be spellbound by an infatuation? Why do you mesmerize me? Make me forget about all I know? How do I repel you? Why do you enslave me? Magnetic, enamored. I go to the water to be submerged, to hallucinate. To inhale the flood, to soak in the swamp. The marsh invites me. I go to be devoured. I yield. I go to be free.
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Fresh meat
Run, run as fast as you can. Don’t look back, you’ll fall. Ignore the trees, ignore the wind. Don’t let them catch you. Don’t let them smell you. Watch your step. They’ll folllow your prints. The river won’t save u. The mountains won’t shield you. Run, run as fast as you can. Flee for your life. They’re coming, they’re right behind you. They know where you are. The branches betray you. The tall grass won’t hide you. The fields are too wide. The valley lacks shadows. The shade isn’t your friend. Run, run as fast as you can. I hear them. I’m not fast enough. I’m out of breathe, I’m out of time. The wolves are after me. The villagers, the soldiers, the bounty hunters. I’m fresh meat. I should have left when I had the chance
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
Sabbatical
A touch of holiness, this is how you break and weigh me down. With a hint of loneliness, my dreams become smaller until they’re buried in the ground. I’ve worshipped at the cult of innocence. These pillars will crumble, they reject and repress. A trophy I cannot possess. The higher I climb, the more I fail and obsess. An altar of worship and fire. They’ve prayed to the false gods and all the liars. Trouble finds me and declares me unfit. My history is destroyed and erased bit by bit. The genie didn’t grant me my wishes. The devil wasn’t a hero, he was just vicious. My prayers never reached the ears of aliens. They never came to earth, they only reached the ceiling. My darkness shines through, into the abyss. Light doesn't exist, this dimension is a mess. Fragile like a doll, fragile like a bomb. Implosion is a goal and now, everything is gone
By Anna Torres5 years ago in Poets
