He Strutted: A Poem

As he exited the 
Rickety building with the peeling paint and the 
Broken windows and the 
Vines that choked the walls, 
He strutted. 
He strutted as if he had somewhere to be, 
As if someone important was expecting him. 
He strutted as if the night was his friend, 
As if the world was his home and the 
Sky was his roof. 
He strutted as if the words 'park bench' meant nothing to him, 
As if he had enough sleep to sustain him and 
Enough food to eat each day. 
He wandered, a misplaced survivor. 
His shoes refused to slow, 
And so he strutted.   

Ebony Ink: A Short Story

       The cool night air rippled around her thin frame. She hoisted one leg over the window ledge to rest upon one of the red bricks that intermittently jutted from the outer walls of her parents’ house. The yellow light that emitted from her bedroom clung to one side of her face while the dusky pitch of night shaded the other with the ghostly ebony of blackened ash. Despite her stoic stare, the edges of her wire thin lips curved upwards into a modest smile. In a fluid motion, she secured her feet on the wall, pushed off of them for momentum, and let go of the window frame she had grasped so firmly only moments before. She landed on her feet beside the bushes that thrived directly below her window. The agile teenager slinked off into the night like a black kitten. The shadows danced off the sidewalk and threatened to consume her, yet young Delilah embraced them like an old friend and joined them in their dances. She wanted to one day be the bluish hue of the moon or one of the tiny glimmers of stars that lived millions of years away, just so she could only come out to play when the sun went down and the sky faded from powder blue to flaxen to burnt sienna to crimson to cobalt to sable. 

      The nighttime was her sanctuary. When the sun went down, her soul soared like a young eagle at first flight. It was only under the cover of darkness that her chains became slack and fell to her feet, that she could let the materialistic world fade from her vision and pretend that it didn’t exist. Delilah often wondered if her name was some sort of sick joke the powers that be had played on her. Delilah imagined that someone with such a pretty name as hers would be a young, blossoming flower, draped in a sundress with strawberry hair in ringlets. Delilah nearly laughed at such a ridiculous thought. In truth, the tall and gangly girl was more plain than anything, and she was perfectly fine with that. Her long, glossy hair was as frizzy and dark as the blackest octopus ink clouds that swirled around the depths of the ocean. Plus, bright colors didn't exactly suit Delilah. She always felt more comfortable in dark hues that drew no attention to her. Each day she wore different shades of black, tan, and brown, sometimes maroon or dark green when she was in a particularly cheery mood. Unlike her beautiful, popular older sister, Delilah had not been blessed with beauty, a fashion sense, or a craving for the spotlight. Aubrey had eyes so sapphire blue that they were often mistaken for color contacts, and her slightly wavy hair was naturally dirty blonde and never out of place. Always the center of attention, Aubrey aspired to be an actress. It took more out of Delilah than she would have cared to admit to hold back from mocking her sister for her ridiculous notions. Delilah had no idea how the two of them  were related. She supposed that all of the qualities society embraced had been used up on her sister, and by the time she herself came around, there weren't any left. Of course, Delilah loved her sister dearly, but she couldn't help but resent Aubrey to some degree, not because she wished she was more like Aubrey, in fact, she found the girl rather flighty, but because acceptance was a difficult thing for a girl like Delilah to come by. 

         Delilah, dressed in black from her converse to her beanie, appeared to blend in with the darkness as she descended into the woods. Her hideaway, her secret cave, awaited her. Delilah had always loved to explore since she was small and had darted around the house in search of secret compartments. Needless to say, she didn't find any. However, this hobby soon morphed into wandering the woods in a quest to find hidden treasure. When Delilah was twelve, she found what she had been looking for and so much more. In the middle of nowhere about a ten minute's walk from home, she had stumbled across a beautiful, roomy cave with limestone hanging from the ceiling. At first, it had seemed unreal. Caves like this were seen on television and in pictures, but certainly not in her little neighborhood in Florida! Yet, there it was. It had appeared to be quite empty, and for the past four years Delilah had visited the cave practically every other night. Not a single soul but for herself was aware of the cave’s existence, and Delilah savored the anonymity this granted. Over the years, she had saved up every penny from her allowance, as well as every birthday and holiday gift, and furnished her little cave to the best of her ability. It wasn’t much, but it was the best a girl of her sixteen years could do. There was an little sealed box in the corner, stocked with a few snacks, as well as a few plastic bins equipped with necessities such as band-aids, food, a few favorite books, and even a new hotplate. There was a cracked portable battery-run television she had bought used, and Delilah had even brought the old fold out chair that wouldn't be missed from her garage at home. 

         The moment Delilah reached the cave, she knew something was off. The rock she had placed in front of the cave for the last four years to hide it was moved a little to the left, and there was just enough room for someone to fit through. Someone was inside, or at least had been since her last visit. She held her breath as she slowly and cautiously walked through the opening, her heart beating loudly in her chest. When Delilah looked around, her heart nearly stopped. The television, the fold out chair, the snack box, and anything of value in the bins were gone. Everything else was destroyed. The raggedy little carpet was now pushed up to the side of the dirt floor in a heap. The remaining contents of the bins had been emptied onto the floor, and the cardboard box she used as a table had been smashed. Her hideaway from the world, her home away from home, had been completely destroyed. Delilah sank down against the cave wall, tears stinging her dark brown eyes. This had been her only escape, the only place she really fit in. Here, where the Earth stood still, she always came in first place. Each day, she would look forward to nothing but nightfall so she could sneak away to her cave and let the breath that she had been holding all day escape. With no light at the end of the tunnel to guide her home, her days would blend together like vibrant watercolors that, when placed too close together, involuntarily mix to create a murky brown. She would never again feel that adrenaline rush of sneaking out her bedroom window in the middle of the night, or even in the wee hours of the morning if she was in a mood to take a few extra risks. She had nowhere else to go. Now, Delilah had nothing to look forward to but lonely nights in her dank, tiny bedroom.

         “Shut your mouth, girl, and stop your blubbering,” a Southern accent harshly drawled from behind her. "You're giving me a headache, you know that?"

     Delilah turned on heel to face a tall and slightly heavyset man. His dark scraggly beard and mustache took up the majority of his face, and his straight hair reached down to the bottom of his ears. He wore jeans, a stained white tee shirt, a black leather duster, and a pair of black combat boots.

         “Wh- who are you?” Delilah sputtered, her eyes red and her cheeks splotchy. She might have happened to cry rather easily, but Delilah was not one to succumb to fear. The adrenaline rush she had so longed for had arrived, and there was no backing down. “Why are you here, and what have you done with my stuff?”

     "So you're the proud owner of this place." As the man sauntered around the cave, his eyes never left Delilah's splotchy and hardened face.

     "I want my TV back," Delilah purposefully demanded, her hands curled tightly into fists by her side, “and my books, and- and-“. Her voice trailed off when he reached his hand into the pocket of his long leather duster. Her heart clenched with dread, and her courage suddenly receded like a straight drop thrill ride at an amusement park. She had seen more than one horror movie in her day, and she knew how situations like this usually ended. 

      “You don't actually believe you’re in a position to make demands of me, do you?” the man grinned and approached Delilah slowly as what appeared to be a kitchen chopping knife finally emerged from his pocket. "I do appreciate your nerve, but it won't save you, doll."

     "I- I'm going to call the police!" Delilah scrambled away from the man with the knife and backed herself up against the cave wall as he approached. Never mind that she didn't own a cell phone. The intruder didn't have to know that. "I'm gonna scream!"

     "You do that," the man winked, unruffled. "Tell me, who do you think will hear you?"

       Despite the fact that she knew this to be true, Delilah let out a bloodcurdling scream. She gulped as he drew nearer. Nobody had heard her. She knew that. She was too far out into the woods. Her body would never be found. Nobody knew about her nearly nightly ventures, much less about her little hideaway.
       “I said shut your mouth, girl,” the man hissed, backing her up against the wall. “Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve seen my face. I can’t let you leave alive.” His words did nothing to reassure the petrified teenager. The tip of the knife pressed against her neck just beneath her chin. She held her breath, afraid to move. A small trickle of blood cascaded down her neck to rest upon her shirt and the crimson liquid flowered to stain the thin cotton fabric. It stung, but Delilah did not cry out. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what was to come.
      ‘So this is how I’m going to die,’ Delilah thought with surprising serenity, silent tears straining her eyes. As the knife dug into her windpipe, Delilah found it difficult to breathe. Dark spots danced before her eyes, and she knew it was only a matter of seconds before it was all over. As her consciousness floated into oblivion, a single thought pervaded her mind. It’s a horrible thing to be murdered, but there's nothing worse than the knowledge that nobody will know of your fate when you’re gone.

Unsung: A Poem

His eyes are hollow and his tears are empty.
He claws at the empty space where she used to be. 
Although his mind is aware of her absence, 
A part of him is still shocked when he finds nothing. 
It's been an hour and he's still gasping for breath. 
His eyes sting with unsung tales of 
Those pretty hats she always used to wear and 
Smiles that could evaporate rain. 
Still, he can't bring himself to shut them. 
He hears his stomach rumble and 
Before he can call upstairs to her, 
He remembers. 
His heart breaks again; 
His hunger fades. 
______________________________
--inspired by one of Brandon Stanton's Humans of New York posts from April 20, 2014.
https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork/photos/a.102107073196735.4429.102099916530784/647466468660790/?type=1&theater

Dear Homophobes

Dear homophobes,
     My name is Natalie and I'm an ally. Since it's LGBT History month, I feel like now is the right time to open up a discussion about current and past homophobia in the world. Before I begin, I'd like to maintain that I don't hate or even dislike any of you. I simply disagree with your opinion, and while I vaguely understand where you're coming from, I think you've drawn the wrong conclusions from the right intentions. The purpose of this is to educate, not to alienate.
     First of all, although I'm sure you've heard this before, I don't think you're scared of people who aren't straight. I do, however, think you're scared in general. You're scared of change and you're scared for your own well-being and the well-being of the ones you love. Many of you think it's not natural to be with someone of the same sex, or that an LGBT person can turn either you or those who associate with them gay. I'm going to quash those notions right now. 'Gay' is not a disease, but rather, a congenital state of being. One does not choose their sexual orientation. Before you disagree, I'd like you to think back to when you decided you would be straight. You didn't decide, did you? You simply noticed one day that you were attracted to the opposite sex. For those in the LGBT community, the discovery of their sexuality went pretty much the same way. So no, homosexuality or bisexuality or anything in between cannot rub off on you or turn you gay, because just as they were born with their respective sexual orientations, you were born straight, and for the most part, this does not change at any one point in your life. Sure, people may realize or discover their sexual orientations later in life, but it's more of an epiphany than a decision, so if you're certain that you're attracted to exclusively the opposite gender, don't worry, you're safe. 
     Now that you know that the LGBT community does not seek to cause you harm, I'm sure you have other concerns too. Many of you probably think homosexuality is a sin. While I don't personally believe this, if you're a devout Christian this is a valid concern. However, there are a lot of things that are considered sins in the Bible, such as sex before marriage, gambling, and drinking alcohol, that are often blatantly disregarded in modern times. Additionally, the seven deadly sins are lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride, all of which not a single human being can claim he or she hasn't committed at least once in his or her lifetime. If these sins, which are arguably significantly more important than the sin of homosexuality, are permissible in modern society, then why isn't it socially acceptable to love who you choose to love? According to the Bible, it is not your place, but God's, to judge those around you despite any sins they might have committed. Additionally, there is Biblical proof that Jonathan and King David were lovers. Not only does Jonathan leave his family to live with King David and his father, but Jonathan and David make a covenant before the Lord that they will be together forever that sounds suspiciously like wedding vows. After Jonathan's death, King David claims that Jonathan's "love for [him] was wonderful, more wonderful than that of women"(verse 26). 
     Homophobia can also be compared to racism. Throughout American history, African Americans, despite being the same inside save for their skin color, were consistently treated as lesser. It took years for an entire race of people to be granted equal rights, and even now, generations later, racism is still prevalent. Many of us look back a few generations now and, although a significant portion of people back then genuinely believed black people were lesser, we cringe at the bigotedness of our ancestors. A generation or two from now, maybe even less, we'll see in hindsight that everyone, even minorities who challenge social norms, are deserving of acceptance. According to the American Constitution, everyone is entitled to the pursuit of happiness, and until the LGBT community can claim to be equal, this goal cannot be achieved. I understand that you're scared, but please, for your own peace of mind and that of the LGBT community, I implore you to bravely challenge any predispositions you might have had about those who are not straight and accept people for who they are. Don't be on the wrong side of history.
~Natalie

The Danger of Paradise: For Teens By a Teen

Hey everyone! Just to tell you a little about myself, my name is Natalie Lifson, I’m nearly 16 years old, and I love to write. I’ve been published in a few literary magazines, I’ve had a couple shows produced, and this past year I won 9 Scholastic Keys (though I’m working hard for a National award this year)! 

I play tennis, softball, I fence, I waterski (mostly slalom, but wake-boarding/skating etc. too), and I horseback ride. I love to sing, play guitar, and write songs. I might even post an mp3 of one of my songs here and there. I really like being involved in the writing community, and if you have any questions for me about writing, whether it be about fiction or poetry, a script or a song, or even an essay (or anything else, for that matter), don’t hesitate to ask me and I’ll be happy to help. If you want me to check out some of your own writing and leave feedback, I make no promises because I don’t have very much spare time, but I’ll try my best. If you have an idea or a prompt for a story, a poem, or a piece on current events, feel free to let me know and I’ll definitely take your ideas into account. 

Here, I’ll be posting a new piece every day. I’ll regularly post poetry, fiction, my opinion on current events, my life experiences, topics I’m particularly passionate about, and everything in between.

I look forward to getting to know you all and hope you enjoy my writing. 

~Natalie