Avery Torch

female | writer, poet

[avery-torch]

Masterlist

Disclaimer (This disclaimer stands for all of my works. Please read for further information.)

I write stories about:

✧ paranormal realism

✧ magic realism

✧ mental illness

(newest to oldest)

Blood | Sadistic Personality Disorder

Flames | Pyromania

Photos | Obsessive Love Disorder

[avery-torch]

I Am Her

I am the girl Who beams like light And never, ever frowns, But I am the girl Who cries at night And wishes she would drown.

I am the girl Who preaches love And likes Shakespearean verse, But I am the girl Who writes of blood And death and often worse.

I am the girl Who’s yellow and blue With laughter on her tongue, But I am the girl Who’s red and black And lost what made her young.

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

Creatures On the Wall

There are creatures on the walls They skitter horribly (scritch, scratch, tick, tack) They only stare, but If I move They could hurt me

“Are you alright?” Someone is yanking me (left, right, back, forth) Shush, don’t touch me! If they see you They’ll be angry at me

“They’re not real.” They may not have reflections (tick, tack, scritch, scratch) But they are real, and If I think otherwise They will come for me

“It’s alright.” It’s not alright, their eyes are rolling (Up, down, left, right) I’ll be a good girl, So Please don’t hurt me.

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

Eden

It exists in my head

I am the only inhabitant there-

There- it is silent and smells like

soft, cold petrichor after a storm though the storm never came

The monsters and I dance hand in hand

Every shadow smiles as I pass

When I peer into the still lake, my reflection is there

...not a skeleton ...not a ghoul

When I look away, the puppets and dolls stay still

I don’t have to pull off

their limbs

Every night the stars sing a lullaby for me

and softly caress my hair, so I slumber in peace

The moon’s black face chases the nightmares away, so

all my dreams are of flying

not blood

There, I am the only inhabitant

...It exists in my head

I wish it’d exist in this world too

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

Love

Eye lash, Whip lash, Red rose, Red blood, Love knot, Rope knot, White dove, Black dove, Bracelets, Chains, Fingers, Knives, Lover, Captor...

Are they not equally love?

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

I Am Going Insane

I am going insane. I know it because When you pressed those cold, bloody blades against my scarred back, I lay very still…

I know it because When you set your collar around my bruised, bloody neck My lips curled upwards…

I know it because When you promised you would kill me one day very soon, I was not afraid.

I am going insane...

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

Masochist's Tea Party

I brought the cups; He brought the pot; It wasn’t long before my Skin was littered with burns. We greeted each other Under tall Dead trees.

I brought salt; He brought lemons; And together we rubbed them Into my open wounds. We smiled over A dainty Red table.

I brought a club; He brought a knife; I struck first, But he struck harder. We drank my blood In little White cups.

I brought life; He brought death; And I lay down in the beautiful Grave he’d dug for me. He kissed my cold lips And closed The coffin.

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

The Death of Me

The world is split in black and white, But I am gray, I think I might Just fall apart from broken seams Torn by knives and vows and dreams I cannot think, I cannot breathe So why is it my heart still beats?

All the black and all the white Has turned to red, I think I might Die right here, a crimson sea Such an end seems fitting for me Will the headaches continue when I never see again?

The world is split in truth and lies But I speak both, I think I’ll die Close my eyes and lose all sight Bright is dark and dark is bright I cannot look, but I can see I wonder what has happened to me?

All the truth and all the lies Have muddled me, I might just die A whirlwind whirls and swallows me I swallow back, I cannot breathe So now I close my eyes and think: Will it be better if I sink?

© 2021 Katniss Night

[avery-torch]

Blood

✧ title: blood

✧ warning: sadistic personality disorder, abuse, murder, vampires, gore, unhealthy sadism

✧ synopsis: I love his pain.

✧ word count: 782

5/10/2021

Today is the day the Night Kingdom and the Day Kingdom create a peaceful alliance through marriage. Specifically, a marriage between the Night Kingdom’s eldest princess and the Day Kingdom’s eldest prince.

To elaborate, I’m getting married to a prince whose name I don’t even know.

I suck on my bloodstained fingers, lapping up the bitter, metallic taste. This would be my last taste of my most favorite blood of all time. Personally, I prefer bitterness over sweetness in blood. Besides, metallic means more iron.

The black corset wrapped around my waist is cinched as tight as it would go. A hoop skirt supports a huge dress, layered with ruffles colored various shades of red and black. The maid pulls one last time on my hair, and on the dark veil goes. Very soon, I’ll walk out with my new husband and go through a length wedding ceremony. Most likely, I won’t rest until midnight. However, my mind is filled with thoughts about the severed corpse in my cellar.

I had to do it. Killing him had given me a comforting thought: He’s dead. That’s why I couldn’t marry him. Not because he’s a slave. Not because it’s forbidden. I could still hear his screams as I broke his bones, little by little. His sobs as I sucked all the blood from his fractured body. I’d cried as I crushed his feet and arms into dust. Great, heaving sobs. This was the love of my life I was killing. “I love you so much.” I’d whispered to him through heavy tears. He had been submerged much too deep in pain to respond.

And yet, I hadn’t stopped. His agony had driven me on to do more, go deeper.

A thought burrows its way into my mind. I wonder if he’s happy in heaven, right now. I drive it off with a giggle that draws a perplexed look from the maid, who was already perplexed enough when I’d entered the room covered in blood. Happy? He was never happy. I made every day of his life into hell. Besides, I’m not sure I wanted him to be happy.

Not much longer now. The grandfather clock, which features a bloody body hung upside down as a pendulum, is ticking away.

Before I go, I want to take a moment to reminisce our moments together.

I remember his wails and angry words. The first time I met him, as my father introduced the plan of vampires as slaves so the blood slaves wouldn’t go mad after being altered into a vampire by our bite. He had been the most beautiful being I’d ever set eyes on, vampire or human. Especially when he was covered in blood in tears. The time he bit my hand and I cut off his finger in return. I never trained him, I wanted him to stay wild. I loved it when he defied me, and the price he paid for it.

I amaze even myself with my creativity. There are so many ways to hurt a person. With knives, a whip, a club. You can break their bones, or slice them apart. Suck their blood or draw it from a cracked skull. I’d really loved his blood. That’s one thing I’m going to miss.

Even though I loved him, I hurt him. Isn’t it weird? I loved his shrieks. I loved his blood, the taste, smell, and sight of it. Above all, I simply loved his pain. What, you think it sounds sick? I don’t care. He probably hated me to the very end. He said he did, at least. And acted like he did. It doesn’t matter what he thought, however.

I turned and stared my maid directly in her grey-green eyes. Now that I thought about it, she was a pretty girl, with pretty eyes and thick silver hair. “Do you think it’s bad to hurt someone?” I questioned.

Startled, she seemed to think for a moment. “Yes, I think so, mistress.” She answered carefully.

That was the answer I’d been expecting. “Guards!” I yelled towards the door. Two burly men dressed in silver chainmail burst in, their weapons braced towards the maid and I. “Take her to the dungeons. She’s to be my new slave.” I waved towards the maid.

They dragged her away. She struggled, screaming, “Wait! Mistress! What did I do? Please, no!” Judging from her terror, she’d heard about my sadistic ways.

“You did nothing,” I called after her. “Except have an opinion.” I grinned into the mirror and adjusted my hair a little. Even if I lost a slave today, I’d have a new one tomorrow.

I love you, my dear, tragic slave.

© 2021 Katniss Night

Disclaimer

[avery-torch]

Disclaimer

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This is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are solely the work of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, and events from the present, past, or future is entirely coincidental.

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[avery-torch]

Flames | Pyromania

✧ title: flames

✧ warning: pyromania, vandalism, impulse-control disorder, arson, murder, suicide

✧ synopsis: Fire fascinates me.

✧ word count: 658

written 5/9/2021

The flame flickered and twirled over the candle. Twinkling in a swirl of yellow, orange and red, all blending into each other. Flames that I know licked a line of black over everything they touched. I wonder what a line of black would look like on my skin. The only thing I didn’t like about the flame was its size - it was tiny, no bigger than the tip of my finger.

No one else understands, but it’s alright. I don’t understand either.

Three days ago, I set fire to a tree. Well, more than a tree. Anyways, the day was perfect - a crispy autumn day, dry and windy. Perfect, yes. Perfect for setting things on fire.

The fire devoured the tree’s withered brown leaves nearly immediately after the match dropped, roaring for more as it swallowed the delicate wood. I wish I’d found another more flammable tree, such as pine or eucalyptus, but maple would have to do.

The beautifully dangerous flames had traveled and expanded through the branches intertwined with the maple tree. I’d watched from a safe distance as the howling wind carried flaming leaves and burning twigs deeper towards the other trees. Kerosene and engine oil slathered around and in the forest did the rest.

The image of flickering, crackling fire is already fading from my mind, sadly. But the feeling stays branded onto me. The wonderful calmness, serenity in the midst of chaos. And the sounds, the fragrance of the burning trees. The flame’s roar, over the faraway screaming and firetrucks’ sirens. The sweet, mellow smell of maple syrup and the acrid scent of burning oil filled the warm air.

I had wanted to run closer, to let the fire’s fierce, loving heat dance across my skin. The desire was so strong I’d stood for a moment, battling myself. That moment was what had gotten me caught. Because I’d hesitated and burned my time away, the police caught me on my way home. I was never a very good liar.

Apparently, people had died in the fire and some buildings had burned. So now, I’m a murderer with more debts than I can pay off. Oh, and I’m famous. Teenage Girl Burns Forest - You’ll Be Surprised Why fills the internet, followed with a mugshot of me and an article about my diagnosed pyromania and an inaccurate description of what happened. With the rest of the money I had, I bought myself one more day before years in jail.

A single day to enjoy the flames one more time.

I extinguish the white candle’s puny flames with a glass of water. The water pours down the melted wax. I watch it drip off the table as the blue fire of the lighter bursts to life.

I lower the lighter towards the end of the rope-like fuse beside me. The spark spreads quickly. I glance around. Kerosene and oil is spread all over the room in every nook in cranny. An image of the forest burning flashes into my mind.

The brown curtains catch fire first. They crumple to black and finally to ash as the flames engulf them. This time, there’s no comforting aroma of maple. Instead, the foul-smelling gasoline and smoke makes me hold my nose. The doors are locked shut, but they could be wide open for all I care.

I’m not going anywhere.

This time, the fire is less orange and more yellowish. The citrus and apricot tones now blend with marigold and honey-orange. I guess that’s the difference between wood burning and gas burning. I gag on the cloudy smoke that is already rising into the air. My hands curl to fists as intense fear, like an internal fire, eats at me. And yet, I’m not that afraid. I’m calm as well.

Sickly heat laps at my skin, and I stand and walk towards the spreading fire with an outstretched hand.

To enjoy fire the flames more time.

Let it burn.

© 2021 Katniss Night

Disclaimer

[avery-torch]

Photos | OLD

✧ title: photos

✧ warning: obsessive love disorder, kidnapping, alcohol, cursing

✧ word count: 702

✧ synopsis: Photos are memories. Memories of him.

written 5/8/2021

I gulp down the dark blue merlot down. It stings my throat. If I drink enough, and focus on the picture of him, maybe I can see him again.

Pale blue eyes, bright with sunshine, stare out at me through the rectangular black frame, accompanied by blush-red lips with the corners upturned in a smile. Black hair burned brown and copper in the bright sunlight reaches just above his shoulders. Pale pink cherry blossoms bloom behind him, their branches stretching elegantly behind him. He looks so happy that my chest swells. I’m not in the picture; rather, I was the photographer. I wish I’d stood a bit closer when I’d taken it, so I could see those eyes a bit better.

The quality of the photo isn’t great. The colors are slightly faded, and dimmed by a layer of glass. His eyes were much bluer than that. But it’s one of the only pictures I have. I smashed my phone years ago in a fit of rage and I haven’t enough money to buy another. Faded or not, I cherish this memory, captured in paper, preserved with glass and wood.

A thump sounds behind me, followed by a choked growl. I turn. Lined up before me along the white wall is a group of black-haired, blue-eyed teenagers, each one cuffed at the hands and ankles and chained to the wall, a gag preventing much noise. Most of them are unconscious, lying limp in the chains. However, one of them has awakened. He stares at me with hatred in his watery blue eyes, and tries to scream through the ball gag, thrashing in his chains.

Those are the boys I picked off the street or kidnapped after noticing their features, similar to his. Teenagers as old as he was before his death. Most don’t look a thing like him. There were even a few girls in the mix. And yet, desperately, I brought them here and chained them up, hoping to find a sliver of him in their same-shaded blue eyes and dark hair.

I heave myself up and snatch at a torn-open box. Inside are tablets of what I know is flunitrazepam. Was it one pill, or two? One, I think. I pop one out and undo the kid’s ball gag. 

Immediately, he starts yelling. His voice is hoarse, assumably from lack of water. “Bastard! Bitch! What do you think you’re doing? Let me out, you fucking pedo!” He tries to bite at my hand, but the collar connecting him to the wall yanks him back. I grab his jaw and force it open, dropping the round pill into his mouth before pushing the gag back in. The alcohol makes my hands shake slightly. He tries to spit it out, kicking and yelling through the gag, but it dissolves in his mouth anyways and works quickly. A couple minutes later, his head drops and his struggling ceases.

Pedo, huh? I guess I am a little old. Through the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of myself in a cracked mirror, disheveled and tired from lack of sleep caused by nightmares. Without his warm body pressing into mine, the nightmares rage through my lonely nights if I don’t take the pills. I snatch the thing up and look at myself. How old am I again? Was it in the thirties or forties? 

I used to be really pretty, you know. Even though you can’t see it now. That tangled, knotted hair covered with dust from a month ago used to luster and shine in beautiful curls. Though those eyes are now dim and surrounded with chalky skin already beginning to sag, they used to be wide and full of life. Those chapped lips used to smile. 

All of a sudden, I feel disgusting. This isn’t the seventeen-year-old face he loved, thirteen long years ago when he was still alive. I hurl the mirror at the wall. Oh, so that’s why it’s cracked.

Back to what’s important. I gaze into the blue eyes of the boy in the picture. Was it just me, or did they blink? I chug down the whole bottle of wine. Move again. Please. Please. 

I miss you.

© 2021 Katniss Night 

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