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William Deeter Sr.

Every day I’ve thought of you.
And missed you.

Dreaming of the day I get so see you.
Horrified at what would think me.

Would you want to know me?
The real me and not what you have been told.

Are you kind and loving?
Or bitter and spiteful?

I’ve always thought you would look for me.
Wanting to know who I am.

As the days, weeks and years past by.
I have been searching.

And searching for you.

Wanting to let you know.

Above all else.

I love you and I’m sorry.

It was my worst mistake.


Cloudy Days

Cloudy Days
William Deeter Sr.

Why am I still here?
Why is this life so difficult?
Why haven’t I stopped all of this?
Why should I even try anymore?
Why do people shun me?
Why am I always alone?
Why am I trapped in the darkness?
Why am I trying to hold on?
Why do I even care about it anymore?
Why am I even shocked?
Why do I cling to a false hope?
Why can’t I see through the fog?
Why do I feel so cold?
Why can’t I keep my eyes open?
Why am I sweating?
Why am I shaking?
Why is this tunnel so long?
Why is it so bright?
Why is everyone here?
Why is my mind suddenly clear?
Why didn’t I do this a long time ago?
Why not?

The cell was old and reeked with mildew. The floor was cold and damp, and there were several small pools of water scattered around. Mary could smell the rust of the crudely constructed cell walls. Mary felt as much of her surroundings as she could, since her eyesight was taken from her in the car accident that claimed her father.
“Hello?” Mary shouted.
“Is anyone there?”
But the was nothing. The only thing she heard was her feeble attempts for help echoed back at her. Almost mocking her.

The quietness of this long since abandoned warehouse there can be heard faint footsteps. Never getting any closer. But, something deep within Mary’s soul told her that the further away this person is the better. Mary sat in the corner with her knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She knew there was nothing good about this situation…nothing good at all. Mary then payed her hear down on her knees. She began to cry, but she was still silent only the faintest sound could be heard from her lips.

“Mom” she sobbed as she abandoned herself into the void. Fearing the nightmares to come.

The rain is pouring and is slamming it’s self against the window. James opens the door to his lonely one bedroom apartment. The apartment reeks of belonging to a bachelor. There are no curtains. The sink is constantly dirt dishes overflowing the kitchen sink, and it give that slight scent of decaying food. The entertainment center is a bunch of metal shelving. The coffee table is covered with various magazines and several empty pizza boxes. James enters the door and tosses his keys on the table. They slide across the table and hits an empty beer bottle. The bottle tips and falls over. He bottle rolls slightly. He walks past the table and falls into the couch. He rests his head against the back of the couch and tilts his head up with his eyes closed.

He sits there for what seems like all night but it was just mere moments. James reaches for this morning’s paper and opens it up to the third page. Several stories grabs attention, “Mayor Finds Keys in Strip Club,” James chuckles. “Zombie Chickens Fly the Coup,” James rolls his eyes and continues on. James flips the page and finds a story about the recent string of child abductions. James just sat there. He began to collapse against the back of the couch and sat there motionless for the rest of the night.

Helpless Against It
William Deeter Sr.

Enters into your mind
like a beam of light.
Sneaking through a crack.

Enters into your heart
like a rock smashes an egg.
Even though it’s not expected.

You cannot search for it.
You cannot escape it.
You cannot plan for it.

It finds you, when it is time.
You feel it deep within your soul.
It is stronger than you thought it would be.

Feels different.
Depends on the person.
Changes you forever.

William Deeter Sr.

Tick, tick, tick.

The clock counted the seconds off of his life. As he lied there. All he wanted was to go to sleep. To nestle in the sandman’s sweet embrace. The darkness in the room didn’t help him.

Tick, tick, tick.

The shadows cast by the full moon fill the room with odd shadows that begin to play tricks on his sleep deprived mind. In the far side of the room he starts to see a figure that is just sitting there mocking him.

Tick, tick, tick.

The figure starts to move about. The figure moves towards the bed in a jerking motion. As it almost reaches the bed it vanishes. He looks around the room and cannot find the mystery figure.

Tick, tick, tick.

As he begins to lay his head back down on the pillow, the figure returns. It just stands there. “What do you want?” The figure just stands there. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?” And yet again the figure stands there motionless.

Tick, tick, tick.

He watches the figure as it begins to move. Again it vanishes into the darkness. This time as he waits and waits the figure doesn’t return. Eventually he tries again to at least get a little sleep. Yet again he just lies there staring up at the ceiling.

Tick, tick, tick.

As the minutes and hours slip away, he does begin to get drowsy. Normally one might fight the slipping into the realm of dreams. But, after all several days of insomnia he just lets his body drifts off to sleep. The minutes pass and as he finally gets some long overdue sleep, he is rudely brought out his sleep.


“goddammit!” “Fucking alarm clock.” He reaches over and quickly grabs the alarm clock and tosses it across the room. It smashes against the wall. He lies back down, but once again he finds himself just staring up at the ceiling above his bed.

Tick, tick, tick.

Third House on the Right
William Deeter Sr.

The third house on the right he said. What brought young Stephanie here is nothing important. Just curiosity. “What do they say about the cat?” she thought. Hopefully “I don’t end up like that poor cat.” “After all he had nine lives, opposed to my one single life.”

She quietly crept up to the door. The door looked like it was ancient. The paint was peeling. And shards of old paint nestled against the bottom of the door. The poor hinges creaked with age as if they were an elderly man struggling to stand. Probably from the decades of rust that is caked on. The door was able to be opened, but a lot of force was needed.

Stephanie crept up the stairs and down the hall. Her face and hair was now covered with the numerous cobwebs that covered the hallway. “Hopefully there aren’t any spiders” she thought.

Carefully she approached the door way at the end of the hallway. A red light pierced the keyhole and the bottom of the door and proceeded to illuminate the hallway. Stephanie finally reached the door and placed her face on the door. She quietly glanced in the keyhole. She stepped back in shock.

“No…It can’t be! “Stephanie blurted out.

By William Deeter Sr.

Angels scream with voices we cannot hear.
Angels glance toward the earth with disdain.
With tormented visions they observe
With malice they leer.

With the beginning of life they enter.
The void.
The abyss.
The required obedience suffocates.

The throne of the almighty they protect.
A seat they crave.
A throne they whisper
Quietly, in the darkness.

The blood.
The flesh.
The screaming souls.
An insurmountable obstacle.

Plummet into the void.
Nostrils on fire.. Bathed in crimson, maize and gold.

The minions they become.