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 (165)
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Blood Haiku
Captive bodies left in your wake. Captured souls forever walk the plank. I’ve burned these bridges just to watch you die. It’s a shame to waste the light without a proper goodbye. Your belated bones smear your atrocity all over the walls. A blood haiku written before your eventual downfall. Have you seen all there is to see? Have you become the very demon you always hoped to be? Polished entrails erupt out of your cocoon. I set up the trap and hope you arrive soon. You chose your mayhem and I’ve chosen bliss. There’s no return from this awful wickedness. A fortunate devil in the making. A neurotic world is yours for the taking. I’m unaware of what truly lies beneath the surface. Your masks falls to the floor amidst your chaotic mess. Behold! A current flowing towards devastation. Your undoing is the dam that will come down with adulation. You don’t get to live out your life in makeshift peace. Secrets will spill out and resurface from the deep. You’re not allowed to move on in perfect harmony. Crimes must be punished with the utmost severity. Graves will be dug in hopes your limbs lie still. I’ll give you a head start until it’s time to kill. Rudimentary and rotten to the core. You’ll never outrun the pain you’ll be remembered for. A dictator ruling over a fallen reich. A Rasputin trying to flee out into the unruly night. Twisted fate will come hunting for you. To sniff you out and take your job from you. What is left of you that is human and remarkable? Undamaged pasts are not always incorruptible. You have come to do the devil’s work and work you shall. All your sufferers couldn’t see past your deluded rationale. Your empire topples with a shudder and a whimper. A timeline of sacrifices made at the altar of sinners. Have you said farewell to all you chose to be? Have you said goodbye to the death machine you came to be? A war played out on the stage with victims and perpetrators. History never remembers the invaded, only the invaders.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Permafrost
Lies from the throne of a usurper. Incompetence forged by victory. A fragile alliance made to satisfy the blood lust of a crooked madman. They use shards of past treacheries to penetrate a frozen crown. Like viper teeth sinking in deeper to wound us fatally. He offers reprieve but his crimes still stand. I have my conscience but he has his legacy to attend to. Making enemies and ascending even higher. Retreat with your back still intact. Regrets are always reserved for the past. We wanted peace but he wanted victory. No kingdom he couldn’t control, no country he wouldn’t make his own. A succession that enters the history books. Warfare ravaged the land but he wanted more. The rebellion rages on but he wouldn’t hear of it. His invasion must be stopped but no one will volunteer. I will cut him down even if it fails. Dynasties rise but yours is set for detonation. A campaign of adversaries and false treaties. The royals speak in hushed tones with innocent words. They don’t know the entire regime has gone absurd. Misplaced trust and united nobles. He won’t meet his end on the battlefield but from within his own inner circle. Betrayal comes at a stiff price. I summon my courage and aim straight for the eyes. An army set up for relief in peace. I alleviate our worries with a new sword bathed in victory
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Pain Remains
Shadows fall, pain remains. Darkness lies, we’ve gone insane. This internal war isn’t fought with bloodshed. Its mastermind is all I’ve never said. I try to extract the truth but only pain remains. Is starting over again an option? I’ve seen enough to want to try again. Banish these evil thoughts, kill them all. Exhume and erase me, I can’t go on. Collapsed thoughts pushing me into the ether. I’ve looked for signs of an arrival sent from the skies. But no saint or hero will deliver me unto myself. I challenge the power you have over me. A spectacle in shackles with no right to grieve. The splinters of me lay splattered on the floor. Broken spirits are all that’s left behind. The ground is neutral but it’s me I can’t seem to find. I close my eyes and let myself unravel. Unwind into the unbecoming. Bending radical laws into self-soothing techniques. Restoring that which is minimal. Reconstructing that which is gone. The other versions of me prevail. They aren’t withered down by weather and time. I pirouette constantly and continue to rotate without purpose. I’ve live to die just to die everyday. Dead inside, there is nothing left to mourn. If I could extract the truth, I would but only pain remains. Why wake just to watch the rise and fall of everyday? I let the fickleness of monstrous deities liquify me. I allow the weight of the sky to simply fall down on me. The shadows create their own storylines while I follow the same outcome. The indecisiveness of left versus right. The lack of conviction between day and night. Resistance has become surrender, crushing the singularity I am under. Doomed reality giving birth to an apathetic future. This timeline is useless. Riddled with pain and stricken by vanity. It will all come to dust, one way or another. They’re out there somewhere, the other variants of me trying their best. It’s a world where I simply could care less. I’ve tried to extract myself but only pain remains
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Byzantium
Conversion, evolution. A cycle of primeval going down the drain. A primordial abduction with everything to lose, nothing to gain. A poison on the tongue with venom piercing through every open vein. I’ve witnessed the world going down in ruins and it’s driven me insane.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Fathers are overrated
I am the product of a once angry man. I am 36 years old and still harbor a grudge over my father’s frustration at life. If I could sum up him up in one word it would be: provocable. It didn’t take a lot to stir up his fragile emotions and get him riled up enough to yell at me and my 4 sisters. Including my mother, there were 6 women against 1 man where the man dictated everything.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Men
Tsarina
We didn’t use typical code names from Resevoir Dogs like I assumed we would. This isn’t my first bank heist but it’s theirs. They wanted to do it on a Friday but I knew better. You do it when they least expect you to: we pulled the job on a Monday. They used titles like King, Duke, Caesar, and Emperor. I was the only girl so they called me the lamest name I could imagine. They decided on the disguises and the getaway plan. They chose the weapons and the inside man. I took it one step further and made sure that man was my brother. They would have no idea they were played until the end. If they ever get out of prison and pull off another scheme, they would know not to assume stereotypes. I was the female who had no input on anything. So they made me the getaway driver. I made sure to wear my sparkling crown when they realized how screwed they would be. I wanted to be there when their lives flash before their eyes but my brother said it best: a Tsarina has to keep her hands clean. They will remember my name.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Fiction
Defy
I let you walk all over me but these wounds are superficial. With hostility to match your ego, I name you artificial. Don’t be so shocked when I nail you to the cross, babe. This ugly obsession is a mystery that will not fade. These angel wings will not fly me to safety. Your Mercury cures live only to plague me. These medications don’t heal your arrogance. With your abundance of bitterness, there’s so much I can’t rival against. Let me take you down a notch or two, honey. Come back down to earth and see what I see. Let me crawl all over your crooked stones and rocks, dear. I’ll meet you where our future disconnects and the end is near. Hold back your tears as the nails penetrate your wrists, my love. I want your fear as you face your agony from above. Why did we sign up for this wretched insanity? I can’t imagine a more hollow existence than the one we are living. All the hurt you caused was all the pain I took. All the hysteria you created matched the faults I overlooked. Beware the curse of the cross and the nails that bear your name. There’s a spot on the very bed where we were one and the same. I learned that there is no universe for us anymore. I wanted to break free but you just wanted it more. I come in close enough for the nails to kill. I wanted you all to myself but now I’ve had my fill. My love, my dear, my husband, my hate. There is no us anymore, there is only cruel fate.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
A Bipolar Playlist
.38 Special-Hold on Loosely When I was young growing up in San Antonio, Texas, my family and I took 3 road trips to Disneyland in California. My dad would be the main driver and he played many random songs on cassette along the way. This is the song I remember most and whenever I hear it, I reminisce about those road trips I miss dearly.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Beat
Culpable
I’m sorry my love but your sacrifice is needed. There’s a time and a place for us but not here, not now. The throne calls to me. I seek a crown of fire. A dragon I’ve become and now the moment is dire. My sword is my covenant. A kingdom borne of trial and tribulation. Oh discord, dismantling everything we’ve built. You stand tall while my spine shrank, melting into the covers of a lovers’ bed. I’ve met the devil but he’s got nothing on what I’m about to do. My avarice is a cunning device meant for mutinous self-destruction. I’ve traded my submission for comfort over and over again. The fates control the world but I hold your life in my wretched grasp. There is no ending with the both of us still intact. My dear, you’ve taken enough out of me. Nothing we’ve accomplished results in equality. Uneven squabbles and perilous greed. Everything you want is nothing I need. It’s not enough to deviate from this recklessness. I must remove your identity entirely. All manifestations of your face will be shattered. Stricken from books, erased from memory. You’ll end up like all the others, forgotten and lost to indifference. Time is not an ally. Time is a countdown, announcing to all your upcoming removal. I’m sorry, my love, for not being sorry. I apologize for my lack of apology. Our love has come to its inevitable demise. A marriage erupting from the chaos within. A pact imploding from the passion inflamed. I’ve said my promises but I’ve renounced them. I take back my vows and my commitments. I chose me over you and as I walk over you for the final time, I am grateful for your sacrifice.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Immurement
We all know you’re dead, you just don’t know it yet. Bones will become brittle, blood will evaporate. Tendons will hardened, skin will calcify. A coffin above the ground. A sarcophagus that lies in wait. History will judge you and finally seal your fate. Was there any doubt in your undeniable guilt? Your tomb will lie undisturbed and unraided. Bedouin tribes will keep your name silent. The desert will claim you as a lost traveler. Nomadic wanderers will leave you in forced peace. This denouement will climax and abruptly cave in on you. Future theives will never know you existed. Your origins will simply convert into energy and vaporize. It will be the last thing you ever do. Your gift to humanity is not your confession but your absence when we are finally rid of you. A vanishing provoked by hostile hands. You made your bed and we will strap you down to it. A gradual decline in your capabilities. Imprisonment is not enough punishment. We must rejoice in your eventual decay. Your years of torment have ceased and we look forward to a world that no longer exists with you in it. Your sentence will echo in the chambers of the pharaohs. Silent are the voices you took. Silent is now what becomes of you. This world is finally through with you.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Tundra
A hike off the infamous trail. A perilous expedition, a journey off of the glorious path. These footprints keep going nowhere again. I have reached the inevitable end just for me to turn around and do it all over again. I have crossed over frozen ponds and hiked over treacherous terrain. You hold custody over my body but I keep trying to break free. I have ventured northward over hundreds of miles all for a smack to the face. I have gestured to the south all for an assault to my senses. To the west lies a broken wrist that prayed for an end to your madness. An eastern wind gave birth to a revival but you stomped it down to debris. I watch the sun peak over the horizon but you still are only eons away. This tundra is a blessing away from your thunder and rage. I have to return home eventually but this trip is annual now. It's a perennial power you use to abuse me. To prove my love, I must do all of the above. Domestic tranquility is a cover for violent genius. I haven't achieved maximum clarity yet. I do all of this for just one toxic embrace from you. A pilgrimage I believe will cure me. A hope that may never die. One day you will love me the way you were meant to. For now, I must travel abroad to demonstrate my loyalty. A devotion to a volatile god, unreciprocating and unrequited. Balancing on a jagged blade, tiptoeing across a dried up reservoir. You are the tragedy that sparks my resolve. You keep on giving then taking away your temperamental love.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
