Tuesday, September 16, 2014

I Am A Clone

She looks like me.
Fate flashes by.
She looks like me,
and then she dies.
I steal her life,
walking dangerously along
the knife,
and now I’m cut open.
I’m torn apart.
They all look like me.
- See more at: http://www.gadflyonline.com/home/index.php/i-am-a-clone/#sthash.dFJffsnL.dpuf

Friday, September 12, 2014



Lyrics by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Can you see heaven
up there in the sky?
Can you see the light
through those dark clouds?
Have you ever looked up
past this cold world
and tried to just fly?

My beating heart
breaks against my chest
with every hope that rises
and falls back down.
Each beat
is a wave
that carries my heart
above this world.

And the sun melts into the sea.
Golden lights become the rainbow over me.
And I can see heaven
in the distance.
The clouds have parted,
and there it is.
I see heaven before me.

Have you ever seen heaven
in the eyes of the one,
who you have given your heart to
and wait for his love in return?

Have you ever seen past those dark clouds
that hover over you
with each passing day
as you struggle to find yourself?
Ever try to stand on your own
and away from what holds you down?
Are your eyes open
to the world around you,
or do you keep them closed,
afraid to see your life?


Heaven is in the heart, mind and soul.
It is the love that we wish to always feel.
Heaven is the silent word
that keeps us going
when this world falls down.


Check out my book of lyrics, Music That Calls My Heart Home here: http://www.amazon.com/Music-That-Calls-Heart-Home-ebook/dp/B003XRE5B2

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Flirting with Revolution

Flirting with Revolution
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

It was hot again.  Why did it have to be hot again?  It was the second week of September.  Where was the fall weather?  The trees were already changing, and the leaves were falling down.  But pardon my words, why the hell was it eighty degrees today?

The shuttle broke down a block away.  We had no choice but to walk the distance.  Nobody spoke, and there was no point looking at their faces.  Their hands were either shoved into their pockets or clinging to their books and book bags.  Our clogs echoed loudly against concrete, and I tried not to trip.  I would have moved faster, but I was so damn hot.  Pardon my words again.  I felt like I was choking on the clay, and I wanted to remove my mask, my Nahuat.  But it was forbidden.  Coming here should have been too.

Big, yellow beetles rose up into view.  Kids poured out of them like rivers.  They screamed and laughed, unburdened, but that’s why we called them, Feriors.  Their attention rose from the melee to us, and the laughter and conversation died.  They heard that we were coming.  They knew that we were coming.  They didn’t believe it or want to, but here we come.  If we just kept our population down, we would not need to be here, but the men of my town knew better.  They shuffled some money, maybe a lot over to the superintendent of schools, and here we were.  And they stared at us like we were the aliens.
None of us said a word.  We marched through the throng of kids with our Nahuats poked and smacked.  Harsh words struck our backs.  Cruel feet would later kick our chairs and shins.  Words that I would never ever dare say bloodied our ears, chased by more wicked comments.  None of us responded, but I wanted to.  I wanted to scream at them that I did not want to be here, but I could not step out of line.  Even here in their town, I could not step out of line.

The morning dragged on.  Constant remarks and words that I will not repeat bombarded me.  Endless pokes and smacks and kicks.  Ugly glances.  Hatred.  Absolute hatred, but what did I ever do to them?  Nothing, and most of the teachers ignored me.  They were angry too that we were here, and they did not care if we learned or not.  Only one of them was different.  Ms. Martin, and she nearly pulled me out of the chair, forcing me to stand in front of all those Feriors, and I was more disgusted at her touch.

“Tell us about your…  Culture,” she said as she sat down behind her nice, large, safe desk.

“Yeah.  What planet do you come from,” one kid yelled, but the look on the teacher’s face quieted him quickly.

I looked at Ms. Martin for a long time.  Then, I noticed the blackboard behind us.  “Welcome to Social Studies” was written in beautiful, white chalk.  Maybe, she wasn’t signaling me out.  Maybe, I was a project.  Either way, I was stuck standing in front of them, so I did the only thing that I could think of.  I started to talk.

“We can’t hear her with that mask on.  Take off the mask,” another student demanded, and the rest started to chant that last statement.  “Take off the mask,” that student repeated.

“Enough!”  Ms. Martin was now on her feet, looking more angry at them than at me.  “You know that she can’t.  It’s forbidden.”

“It’s bullshit,” a student said from the back.

“One more comment or statement, and we will have a pop quiz right now.  I will test you on last year’s studies.”  The students’ groans and moans was the response that she sought, and they finally fell quiet.  “Tell us about your culture,” she now said to me.

“When we are born, we are not shown to the world for a year.  Our mather does the same.  One year after birth, the clay is first applied to our heads, and the world meets us.”

“Does your mother wear clay,” a student asked, chased by a snicker.

“No.  She is married.  She has three blue lines on her cheeks.  Two on the left.  One on the right.  The ones on the left are for the boys.  The ones on the right are for the girls.”

“So, when do you take that…  Mask off?”

“When I am thirteen, which will be in less than a year.”

“Then, what,” a student asked.

“Then, the black veil.  Girls from 13 through 18 wear the black veil until they are married.”

“Married?  No wonder, they’re fucking like bunnies,” a boy in the front said, and I tried to cover my ears, blocking out that horrid word.  I failed.

Ms. Martin was about to scold him when the bell screamed.  I was so grateful.  I raced to my seat, nearly tripping over at least two feet, but I made it.  And I made it into the hall and enjoyed my half hour recess.  Now, I just had to survive the afternoon.

Recess came and went.  We all stood together.  Our backs were kept to them, those that would never accept us, and we didn’t want them to.  None of us spoke.  We didn’t have to.  We didn’t want to be here, but we were.  And when that bell rang again, we had no choice but to return back inside.

English wasn’t so bad.  The teacher reminded me of what they called a nerd, and he talked and talked and talked.  I tried to follow him, but my attention slowly moved over to a girl sitting a few rows up ahead.  She twirled a long, black lock of hair around her finger.  Her face was beautiful, painted like her fingers and toe nails.  She smiled at the boys, and they smiled back.  Part of me was drawn to her, but I could never ever be like her, so unburdened.  I could not have a boy look at me like that.  No boy would see my face until he purposely or accidentally removed my black veil, and I’ve heard horror stories of horrible marriages, where a boy accidentally removed a girl’s veil.  I did not want that to happen to me.

I envied the boys in my town.  They wore the clay masks, the Nahuats too until they turned thirteen.  Then, they were free to show their faces.  Once they turned twenty-one, they had to grow a beard.  It was forbidden to just have a mustache.  Whether short or long, they had to have a beard.  It was just our way, and I still envied them.  But the black veil would be better than this damn heavy, hot mask.

The day finally ended.  I didn’t know what was heavier.  My book bag or my mask.  The shuttle would not pick us up here.  We had to walk at least a mile until we saw it.  Cars blasted their horns as the shuttle swerved our way.  They were ridiculous.  Couldn’t they see that our ride was trying to get to us?  They were so rude, and I was so grateful to board that shuttle.  But my thoughts and feelings crashed right afterward.  I would have to do this tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.  I was trapped.  I was in hell, pardon my words.  When I am married, I have the option of finishing school or not, but until then, here I was.  And there I will be.

“Hi, honey.”  My mather’s voice nearly erased the day.  “How was school?”

“Horrible.”  I slammed the front door a little too hard behind me.  “Absolutely, horrible.  Can I please remove this mask now?”

My mather stood nearby with my almost one-year-old brother in her arms.  The dark blue lines on her face stood out against the shadows filling in the corners.  Her soft, brown eyes clouded for a moment, and then she slowly nodded.  She rushed toward the windows and pulled down every single blind, blocking the world from my sight.  Then, she turned off the lights.  “Take the mask off,” she whispered.

“You’ve seen my face before,” I said.

“And your father beat me bloody, remember?”  Those words stung my heart.  “Now, why was today so horrible?”  She continued to cradle my brother in her arms.  “It couldn’t be that bad.”

“Are you kidding?”  I now held the mask in my hands.  “They hate me.  They hate us.  They hate that we are there.  They don’t want us there in their town.  They want us here away from them, and this is going to be a nightmare.  They’re going to torture me.  I don’t want to be there or near them.  They hate me.”

“Don’t worry, Bekka.  They won’t be there that long.”  She froze a second later.  “Don’t tell your father that I said that.  Don’t!”

It was forbidden for the women to eavesdrop on the men’s conversations behind closed doors.  They ran the town.  Their business was their business.  The women had no part in it, and if caught spying on the men, they were beaten.  One woman was even killed, and murder is the Sin.  The man’s head was shaved completely, and on the back of his head, he was branded with an M.  Then, he was banished from the town, and nobody would speak of him again.

“Don’t tell your father,” she cried.

“I won’t.  I remember what he did to you before.”  I looked down at the mask in my hands.  “There was this girl in English.”

“Girl?  A Ferior?”  She resumed rocking my brother to sleep.  “What about this girl?”

“She was beautiful.”  My mother paused at that.  “She had beautiful hair.  Her face was beautiful and painted.  The boys looked at her…”

“Bekka!”  I froze at her tone.  “Do not flirt with Revolution.”  Now, I was confused.  “You are there to learn, and learn only.  Do not be influenced.”

“I’m not a Ferior.”

“If you let them inside, you will be, and then…”

“Then,” I repeated.

“Then, I don’t know,” my mather whispered.  “Your brother’s asleep, and I need to rest.”  She hurried out of the room.

“I’m not a Ferior,” I repeated.

Mirrors were forbidden in the house except for the bathroom.  I felt dirty just thinking of school, so I went inside to wash my hands and face.  I placed the mask gently beside the sink and welcomed the cool water against my skin.  I looked up into the mirror a moment later, and I didn’t see me.  I saw the girl from English.  I should turn off the lights and put the mask back on, but I couldn’t.  She was beautiful.  I was beautiful, but no.  No!  I would not, could not think like that, and I grabbed the mask, snapped the lights off and stormed away.  But that image, that girl…  I couldn’t forget it.  Maybe, maybe I was flirting with Revolution.

Wednesday, September 03, 2014

Last Sunrise at the End

Last Sunrise at the End by, Melissa R. Mendelson This is the last sunrise that I will ever see. My world has gone dark, burnt beyond repair, and there is no clinging to what I once loved. I’ve reached the end, forced to move on again, but to where, I wish I knew. And now the breeze quiets my soul, and I bathe in sunlight fading fast. This is the last sunrise that I will ever see.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Bad Habits

Bad Habits
(Parody of True Blood's Bad Things by Jace Everett)
Written By Melissa R. Mendelson
Performed By Bobbie C.

When I come home, I let the bad habits out
And every echo is from my stomach’s shout
I don’t know why you drive up against my car
But even if you can’t cut me off doesn’t mean we’re through
I wanna unleash my bad habits on you

I’m the kind to wait until I’m alone in my room
Talk during movies and tv shows just to be rude
I don’t know who you are walking around me
But a cough in the face might make you see
I wanna unleash bad habits on you, okay

When I come home, I let the bad habits out
And every echo is from my stomach’s shout
I don’t know why you drive up against my car
But even if you can’t cut me off doesn’t mean we’re through
I wanna unleash my bad habits on you
I wanna really unleash my bad habits on you

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

The BlackOut Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

Darkness.  Hope was the dwindling fire in a tin barrel.  Hands reached out, and life flickered but only for a moment.  The smoke was the laughter left, and the lost souls drew closer, trying to hold to that fire.  But the darkness won.

Her finger was pricked.  Her pills were released.  She would not go hungry tonight, but no sleep would find her here.  She would just gather around the fire like the others outside and wait for sunrise.  Tomorrow was another day, maybe a different day, and that gave her hope.  She pushed through the crowd, trying not to disappear, but who would miss her?  Maybe, it would be better, if she was swallowed away, but then the lights flickered.

Hera watched the throng of people move before her.  They reminded her of rats struggling and fighting for their cheese.  It was disgusting.  How could they depend on this technology to suffice their needs?  They were slaves to it, broken and bent.  Didn’t they see it in the eyes of those so lost outside?  She should just put them all out of their misery, and she stretched her fingers out, ready to steal their light, their hope away.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Hera looked down at her feet.  The child was barely ten and wearing a coat that was too big for her.  Her eyes were innocent enough, but give it time, and they too would grow bitter.  “No.  I’m not.”

“You’re not wearing any socks or shoes.  Did you go sleepwalking?”  Hera looked down at herself for the first time.  She was just wearing a short, torn dress, the last dress that she wore before being buried alive.  “Here.”  The child took off her coat and handed it to her.  “Take it.”

“No.”  Hera forced herself to call the energy down toward her, and the lights went out.

“Did you do that?”  Hera now looked at the machines, hungry herself, but hungry for its energy.  “I’m starving.”  She froze.  “Please.  Please, don’t take my food away,” the child begged.  “I’m hungry.”

“It’s not food.”

“But I need it, or I’ll die.”  Hera now looked at her, lowering her hands.  “Please.”  She still held the coat out to her.  “Please,” she whispered.

“Fine,” and Hera grabbed the coat from her.  “Only because you asked me to,” and she turned to leave.

“Wait.”  She glanced back at the child.  “What’s your name?”


“Mine’s Helen.  Nice to meet…”  Hera put on the coat and then stormed away.  “You.”

It was cold outside.  Hera pulled the coat tighter around her.  She never really put much thought on how she looked or how she felt.  She couldn’t.  She still remembered screaming into the darkness before it swallowed her whole.  Then, nothing, and the nothing was bliss.  Then, someone woke her up, and now she had those damn memories left.  And she wanted to destroy.  She needed to destroy, and in response, she saw the flashing lights.

“Freeze!  Put your hands up!”  An officer emerged from his car, followed by a strange man, a man that she realized was nothing but machine, and she smiled.  “Do not move!”  She waited until he touched her, and then she spun around, placing her hand on his chest and taking that luscious energy away.  Sadly, he did not scream.  He just whispered, “Stop.”

The machine cop attacked her, but that was its last mistake.  It fell down like a crumpled doll by her feet, and her eyes mirrored the fires nearby.  Something whizzed by her head, and it took her a moment to realize that it was a bullet.  And another one was coming her way.

“Really?”  She turned toward the four officers now descending toward her.  “Is that the best you got?”  A force field formed around her, stopping the bullet.  “Come on then, boys.  Come and get me!”

The two humans stayed back, firing their useless guns.  Their machine cops tried their best and failed.  They fell lifeless to the ground, and Hera clapped her hands together, sending a sonic boom toward the two men left standing.  They flew backward, and one fell straight into a black, unmarked car.  But she didn’t care, descending upon the other man and placing her hand on his chest.

“John.  Don’t let her touch you,” Dorian said as they approached her, watching in horror as she drained the officer of his life.  “Stay behind me.”  Dorian moved ahead of him.

“Dorian, don’t!”  Kennex looked at the dead androids by his feet.  “Don’t let her touch…”  He was sent flying back by another sonic boom.  “You,” he muttered, fighting to stay conscious.  “Damn it.”  He struggled to his feet just in time to see Dorian move toward Hera.  “Dorian!”

Dorian breached her force field.  He grabbed hold of her.  In return, she grabbed hold of him and tried to absorb his energy.  The air crackled around them, and then a thunder boomed.  Dorian flew back toward Keenex, and Hera laid on the ground, motionless.

“Dorian?”  Kennex helped him to his feet.  “What did you do?”

“I neutralized her.”

“How the hell did you do that?”

“I don’t know, John.  I just did.”  He slowly approached Hera, followed by Kennex.  “I don’t think she’s dead.”

“No.”  Kennex gingerly took her pulse and then lifted her up into his arms.  “She’s not.”  He stared at Dorian for a long moment.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.  You?”

“Yeah.  Let’s get sleeping beauty here to the precinct before she wakes up.”

“Good idea.  Backup is on its way.”

“Good.”  Kennex carried Hera over to his car.  “We’re going to need it.”

Check out the entire series here: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/885932/Melissa-Mendelson