The Message

I fumble around in my bag for my keys, unable to see clearly from the tears distorting my vision. I glance over my right shoulder, down the hallway of the flat. When my fingers find the sharp edge of the keys, I pull them out and don’t hesitate for even a second before unlocking the door. Once inside with the door closed, I lean against the back of it for a moment to catch my breath.
Just breathe, Melissa. Breathe out, breathe in. Breathe out, breathe in. It’s frustrating me that I have to remind myself how to perform a simple body function.
A flashing red light catches my eye. Someone’s left a message on the house phone. Taking one last gulp of air, I walk across to it and push the button to play it.
Hi Melissa. Please listen to this message, don’t delete it. I beg you.
I know that you don’t want to talk to me at the moment, but please, just hear me out. I need you to know what I have to say. I wasn’t-I’m not cheating on you, I promise. Look, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I was… I was going to ask you to marry me. That woman you saw me having dinner with, she is my friend from work. She was helping me plan the proposal! I love you more than life itself, Melissa, and I don’t want to lose you. Please… don’t leave me. I want-
Melissa? Is that you?
I was just leaving you a message!
What are you doing here? No, I don’t care, I just care that you are here.
You need to know that-
Wait, what are you doing?
Melissa?
Melissa, listen to me. Put the gun down. This is all just a misunderstanding.
Please. Don’t do this.
A gunshot fires, the line goes dead.

Snow

I thought that I would have a go at writing my own poem, like Oliver's Red Riding Hood one.

Your skin was pale; your lips were red,

“Our home is yours”, that’s what we said,

We took you in, you helped us too,

You cleaned our house, you made us stew,

My brothers and I, we didn’t know your name,

We didn’t know your story; we didn’t know your game,

On that night we were asleep in bed,

When you put a bullet through Grumpy’s head,

Then you killed Happy, Bashful, and Doc,

So I ran and hid in the grandfather clock,

Sleepy and Sneezy, they soon met your gun,

Out of my brothers, I was the luckiest one,

Their blood stained the carpet where they did lie,

And I knew right then that you needed to die,

I lifted my pickaxe, brought it to your head,

After a few swings, you were also dead,

I stepped over your body, lifeless on the floor,

I left it behind me; I walked out the door,

It’s a mystery, Snow; what happened to you,

Still nobody knows. Except me. I do.

He Is Gone

Through my hazy state between awake and asleep, I feel him climb in next to me. The heat from his body immediately comforts me, and I snuggle closer. After the three hours I have spent restlessly fidgeting, I am finally able to relax. His arm slightly lifts my top as it slides under my back, his hand curling around my waist. I sigh in satisfaction. I love the feeling of his skin on mine, and I wish that for once it could still be there when morning arrives. Yet every time the sun inches high enough to cast bright beams through my window, waking me up, he is gone.

The next day is no exception. An overwhelming brightness flashes behind my closed eyelids and stirs me. I can feel that his body is no longer entangled with mine, and opening my eyes confirms this. The empty space on the sheets next to me engulfs any chance that I might not be alone again.

The next night when he climbs under the covers, I shift my head so that it lies on his chest. I like to feel its gentle rise and fall as he breathes. It lets me know that he is still there, that he hasn't left me yet. He presses his lips softly against my forehead. The kiss lingers there long after he draws away. As I slowly sink into a deep sleep, I feel his words tickle in my ear, but I am far enough gone that I can’t quite catch what he says.