Shileigh Oceguera

“Shileigh is a member of Friend High School’s Class of 2016. She is a writer and an older sister to two young boys.”




Selected Works:

Jeff

His candles still burned in the living room, the flames flickering and snapping as their bright orange tongues licked at their glass enclosures. That blues music that Jeff always played still sang to Bernard, the vinyl that trapped their saddening notes spinning to play an endless cycle of bittersweet torment. Stacks of books still filled their bedroom floor. They weren’t Bernard’s. The only books he had ever owned were textbooks and picture books. Bernard stared at the wall in front of him, his senses flooding with Jeff. The carpet was too. The wine that was once in his glass now mixed with the scarlet blood that dripped from the hole in Jeff’s head. Even after the gun fell from Bernard’s hand, he was never sure if Jeff had lied.

 

The Shadows on the Walls

Anastasia has always loved the dark. It held so many secrets and memories and feelings. But when her closet door was open? No. After watching way too many horror films, she knew that nothing good came from open closets in dark rooms. Everytime she looked over, she swore she saw a figure there. Or, at least until she blinked. Then it was a sweatshirt, or a dress. One time, it was a pair of pants that she had thrown haphazardly.

One night, after a particularly scary movie, she couldn’t stand the sight of the of the open doors. Throwing the covers from her barely-trembling legs, she stood and walked over slowly to the closet. She stood there for a moment before her fingers closed around the metal knobs. Then a creak, coming from the hallway. She ran over quickly, peeking out to see a shadowy figure standing at the opposite end. Closing the door quickly, she leaned against with her hand over her racing heart. She decided to do what any sensible person would in her dilemma and tried to call the police. Her phone was dead. Another creak. This time from the inside her room. The closet. Anastasia stumbled over and saw that the doors were opened wider than before. She made to close the doors, but something grabbed her ankle. It was cold and soft,yet felt like it wasn’t even there. It was like fog and smoke. She attempted to wrench her leg away, and just barely managed to before closing the doors.

Tears were streaming down her face faster than the rain pouring outside. Silent sobs ripped through her chest as she bit down on her closed fist, attempting to be quiet. The creaking stopped. Her heart began to slow gradually. Trying to convince herself that it was all just one bad dream, she lied down on her bed.

Sleep came after what felt like forever. But hours later, she woke to the sound of creaking. Looking around, she saw that her closet door was wide open. So was her bedroom door. There was a weight on her chest and she saw a wide, soulless grin. A scream, and then silence.

 

Space Metaphors

I am like the moon. I hold the fate of the world in my hands.

Every time I try to see you, you end up a lightyear away.

Your eyes are as infinite and bright as the galaxy.

You are a black hole and I am a planet, heading to oblivion by your love.

The meteor of reality destroys my planet of fictional relief.

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