I walked hurriedly towards the bus stop, blowing my warm breath into my hands. The breaths twisted out of my mouth in smooth clouds, contrasting into the chilled winter air.
My runners crunched into the snow in a fast pace, and I made an effort to make it in time.
I did.
First period. I sit in my seat, Aria sits in front of me like usual. She turns around and smiles at me. It makes my heart stutter.
We chat while walking to our next class and she grabs my hand playfully. She kisses my cheek and flutters away to her classroom.
I'm happy.
Lunch time. My stomach growls. But mum spent all her paycheck on the apartment and on liquor. It's been a week and we still haven't had a proper meal.
Aria shares her ham sandwich with me.
It tastes really good.
I hop on the bus. The driver seems angry. He's yelling to move back. We can't, we are already suffocating in each others breaths.
I'm sweating.
I walk home, relieved it's so cold out. I feel refreshed and light. I get home when it's dark out, and notice the entire apartment building is dark.
My gut twists.
I have to climb the stairs because the elevators aren't working. I get to the 5th floor a bit winded, but I'm okay.
I open the door. Mum is sleeping on the couch with a piece of paper in her hand. Curiosity fills me and I pull it out.
In large, upper case letters, EVICTION NOTICE.
I put it back.
I wake up late again. Mum is watching the news. It's weird that she's up so early. I hear the newscaster say how the bombing in our country are getting more frequent as well as more intense.
I find an apple under a pile of rags.
I don't have time to wash it.
I run to the bus in the frosted air.
Aria sits down and talks to me about the bombings. I tell her not to worry. She smiles.
My heart stutters.
Lunch again. She splits her sandwich again.
And she gives me her granola bar. She tells me I need to eat more. When I say she should have it she says she needs to lose weight anyways.
I tell her that's far from the truth.
She asks if I'm okay.
I eat the granola bar and kiss her.
I get home and open the pantry. There's half a bottle of whiskey left. I wonder what my mum did with the other ones.
She's not on the couch.
I scrap some money together for a small pizza.
I keep an extra slice for lunch so Aria doesn't worry.
Mum is watching the news again. There's screaming on the television. I ask her if she had breakfast.
She doesn't hear me.
I ask again.
She slowly turns her head. Her blond hair is stringy and greasy. Her brown eyes are bloodshot. She slurs something.
I leave.
The bus didn't come today. I went to Aria's. Her bus didn't come either.
We lay in silence while listening to the radio.
They're saying our city is a target for the bombings.
She doesn't think I realize she's crying.
I stay the night.
We catch a ride to school. The principle says class isn't cancelled.
First period goes slowly. When Aria looks back at me it makes things better.
Second period comes, Aria and I part ways.
Aria gives me a piece of her sandwich. When I got home after staying at her house I found my slice of pizza was gone.
I thanked her.
She gave me her granola bar again.
I thanked her again.
We go out after school and grab coffee. She pays. I hug her for a long time.
Her hair smells like flowers.
She always smells like flowers.
I get home later. Mum is on the couch. She yells at me for eating all the food. I don't tell her she's the one who ate it, just to vomit it up.
Instead, I go to bed early.
I wake up late and run out the door. My shoes are slipping on the ground as I run.
I just make the bus.
A few people laugh at me.
I watch the scenery pass as we drive.
A lot of people are walking around with large bags filled with what seems to be basic necessities.
We get to school.
First period.
Aria isn't here today.
I walk to second period alone.
I find a spot to sit at lunch. My stomach growls.
I catch the bus home.
Mum isn't in her room or on the couch. Her bathroom door is shut.
When I knock there's no reply.
I try to open it.
It won't.
The doorknob must be jammed again.
I notice there's no more alcohol.
Maybe she stopped.
I leave early, mum wasn't watching the news. I didn't hear her come home last night.
I wonder if she's seeing someone.
The snow is melting into ice and it's even more slick. I'm glad I left early because it takes me twice as long to get to the stop.
First period, Aria arrives late.
She whispers to me that her brother was sick, and her mum couldn't stay home to take care of him.
Her dad is out of town again.
I give her her homework.
We have time in class to work together.
She turns her chair.
Her hair flows behind her back.
She blinks at me.
Everything goes silent.
Suddenly, a loud ringing stings my ears.
Aria's eyes are wide. They look like an endless void of fear.
Her hair is blowing to the side like in a photo shoot.
But the air is coming from the window.
The window that is shattering towards us.
Glass flies into our skin.
By the time that I see blood specking her face, everything is already black.
Everything is already pitch black.
Showing posts with label different world. Show all posts
Showing posts with label different world. Show all posts
Monday, 7 December 2015
Saturday, 19 September 2015
The Feelings of Silence
His smile was slight, but I saw it. There was an awkwardness between us that I didn't really understand.
"It's weird," He sighed. Before I could ask what he meant he continued, "How we feel about each other." A silence hung between us and I blinked, not knowing what to say. We were walking now. "How we feel so much towards one another but we don't hold hands or hug or--" He paused for a second, "Kiss."
I felt my face burn, but I agreed. We began walking between the trees quietly, and all I wanted to do was reach out for his hand and pull it into mine. I wanted to look at his face and let his mouth draw my own in.
But I couldn't make myself do it. It seemed that even though I wanted to so badly and even to have his reassurance about how we both felt, I just... couldn't do it.
I wondered why.
Looking back, I thought about our strange relationship.
It seemed as though no matter what I did or didn't do nothing changed. It seemed like there was always an invisible wall.
I wondered if he tried to kiss me whether or not our lips would actually meet. It felt strange thinking about it.
I don't think they would meet.
But I wanted them to.
The silence seemed like a wall too. Something we couldn't really get past. It made my heart heavy not being able to.
I turned to face him and watched his lips move into words. But nothing came out. I squinted and asked his to repeat himself. I watched him laugh and 'speak' again. But again, nothing came out.
It felt like he was further than ever.
I reached forward, but the gap grew. He tilted his head in confusion and opened his mouth again.
"I miss you," His voice sounded like he was speaking under water.
I brought my hands to my face, and I felt a subtle dampness under my eyes.
I choked, "I miss you too."
The distance grew, and the trees seemed to thicken.
He spoke again.
"I can't--" My throat cracked, "I can't hear you."
His face fell with sadness. He tried again. I read his lips.
I was falling in love.
My heart broke.
"I was too," I brushed away tears, "I was too."
"It's weird," He sighed. Before I could ask what he meant he continued, "How we feel about each other." A silence hung between us and I blinked, not knowing what to say. We were walking now. "How we feel so much towards one another but we don't hold hands or hug or--" He paused for a second, "Kiss."
I felt my face burn, but I agreed. We began walking between the trees quietly, and all I wanted to do was reach out for his hand and pull it into mine. I wanted to look at his face and let his mouth draw my own in.
But I couldn't make myself do it. It seemed that even though I wanted to so badly and even to have his reassurance about how we both felt, I just... couldn't do it.
I wondered why.
Looking back, I thought about our strange relationship.
It seemed as though no matter what I did or didn't do nothing changed. It seemed like there was always an invisible wall.
I wondered if he tried to kiss me whether or not our lips would actually meet. It felt strange thinking about it.
I don't think they would meet.
But I wanted them to.
The silence seemed like a wall too. Something we couldn't really get past. It made my heart heavy not being able to.
I turned to face him and watched his lips move into words. But nothing came out. I squinted and asked his to repeat himself. I watched him laugh and 'speak' again. But again, nothing came out.
It felt like he was further than ever.
I reached forward, but the gap grew. He tilted his head in confusion and opened his mouth again.
"I miss you," His voice sounded like he was speaking under water.
I brought my hands to my face, and I felt a subtle dampness under my eyes.
I choked, "I miss you too."
The distance grew, and the trees seemed to thicken.
He spoke again.
"I can't--" My throat cracked, "I can't hear you."
His face fell with sadness. He tried again. I read his lips.
I was falling in love.
My heart broke.
"I was too," I brushed away tears, "I was too."
Tuesday, 9 June 2015
Tragedies
She sat on the wooden stairs leading to her home.
Her small fingers tapped the dark oak wood and she began clicking the toes of her Mary Jane's together.
She was so used to this place, for she grew up here.
Or, she grew up to her age now.
Which, seeing her short stature and little limbs, a person would assume she would be roughly eight years of age.
Which would be a proper assumption.
This little girl knew every nook and cranny within and outside of this house.
She knew the dark forest green paint chipped every summer and that he papa had to repaint it.
She knew that the wooden steps that she sat upon creaked no matter how little a person weighed.
She knew that when you walked through the bright white door you were hit by the steep staircase- also old dark oak, and when you got to the second floor and made an immediate right her room would be there.
She knew that if you decided to take a left there would be a bathroom.
And if you decided to keep going left there would be her parent's room.
She knew if you walked into the kitchen there was a loose floor board exactly six steps forward and three right, and under this floorboard was enough room for a little eight year old girl to hide during hide-and-go-seek.
She knew that in the endless forest backyard there was a 'cave' made out of logs and dead trees that she never did figure out how it was made before she--- ran out of time.
Her attention snapped away from her thoughts and she pulled the hand that was playing mindlessly with her long dark hair away from her face.
She never did find out what she looked like. Oh no, see, mama had a belief about vanity evolving from when you were a young girl, so she wouldn't let her daughter look in any mirrors.
But her parents told her how lovely and cute she looked every day nonetheless.
Because compliments don't cause vanity.
She moved her hands from her sides to her dress, which was speckled with ash for some reason.
A reason she couldn't remember. But she found it curious nonetheless.
The little girl's blue eyes looked in front of her now, as she watched a mother and father drive up to her home.
Curiosity spiked within her again as she watched the bug-looking car pull up the gravel road.
The car was a pale blue with silver trimmings.
She thought it looked rather boring.
Blue was such a common car colour at this day and age.
But maybe they'll make better cars with better colours.
Come on, Susan. The man spoke. She thought he looked rather dashing. Slicked light brown hair with what seemed to be deep brown eyes. Hm. Handsome. She had decided.
I'm coming, James. Oh my... it really is in rough shape ain't it? The little girl decided the woman was Susan.
The little girl looked up at her house. Rough shape? Never. The paint was just re-painted and everything seemed to have an unearthly pale glow to it.
She looked back to Susan and James. Susan seemed to hobble from the car, and as soon as she got on her feet she caressed her bulging stomach.
She was pregnant, the little girl decided.
She was a very pretty pregnant woman. Her dark blond hair was braided into a bun and even though the little girl couldn't see Susan's eyes due to the large bulbous glasses she was wearing, she decided her eyes were as blue as the darkest pits of the sea.
She clicked her Mary Jane's.
Well the family before us... well I told you already. It was devastating. This was James.
Susan cleared her throat, I am not too sure about this, darling. It could be haunted.
But James scoffed and held out his hand for his darling wife and led them up to the oak stairs leading to the little girl's home.
They paused, admiring the home. The little girl watched them.
Susan was much prettier up close. She had fleshy pink lips that seemed a bit too large for her face and a petite nose that kept her sunglasses up snobbishly. But she was a very pretty woman, the little girl decided.
It'll take some work hon, but my gosh will it be worth it. James was glowing now.
Susan gasped suddenly, reaching to her stomach.
What is it? What's wrong? Is the baby okay? James lurched towards her, bringing her close to his body.
Susan's sunglasses fell off.
The little girl lifted the corners of her lips. Her eyes were as blue as the darkest depths of the sea.
Black.
Yes, yes... it was just flailing. Oh James, I don't know about this. I feel really uneasy. Like someone is watching us... As Susan said this she looked at the little girl sitting in front of her.
The little girl looked at her ebony irises.
And didn't blink as the woman and the man walked up the steps through her after the man cooed her into entering the home.
But when the little girl did blink and look at her home, the dark green paint was splattered with broken windows and beams that had collapsed. The pristine exterior was black and burnt up. The roof had half fallen off, leaving a large wooden rubble pile on the side of the house.
The little girl stood up slowly.
And she looked at her home.
A bright flash crossed her eyes and suddenly she was in her light blue nightgown, sleeping in her bed with light blue bed sheets.
She was very calm.
She was wide awake.
She heard it first.
A strange crackling that was unfamiliar to her, but familiar at the same time.
It was loud.
She shuffled out of her bed after pulling the covers off of her.
She leaned her ear against her ivory door and listened.
It was loud.
Carefully, in a confused state, she opened her door.
And was hit by a thick billowing column of smoke.
Startled, she leaped back, not shutting her door fully.
She could see the bright red flames licking the wooden floor.
And she realized why it sounded familiar in its unfamiliar state.
It sounded like the fireplace at Christmas time.
The little girl smiled a bit then, thinking about Christmas.
How, she won't get Christmas this year.
But how she hoped her mama and papa would get one.
She went to the wall furthest from the door and slid down it until she had her head in her lap. She was coughing a lot now, as though her lungs were burning.
She was getting tired now, and the room was spinning.
The little girl brought her head against the wall, staring at the whirling ceiling.
It was a pretty ceiling.
A pretty home.
Her pretty home.
Then she saw a glint of something, and noticed the window.
Why hadn't she thought of the window?
She opened her mouth, only to be greeted by the smoke.
She was really warm now. She had a thick layer of sweat consuming her.
She tried to get up, placing her hands on the floor to push her up. But her arms gave and her knees buckled, and she lay on the floor. It felt so cool. She wondered if it would cool her down.
Her cheek was on the dark oak floor, and she could see the flames licking the ground around her.
She was hurting a lot now, she knew what was happening and she wanted it to end now.
She was closing her eyes now, thinking about how thirsty she was.
She tried to mover fingers. It hurt, but she still had them. They still moved.
And as she fell asleep she closed her hand around her pretty home.
Another flash crossed her vision. She parted her lips, and she noticed how she wasn't thirsty anymore.
As the couple opened the door she could see the stairs stained black from the fire that hurt her. From the fire that hurt her home.
She felt attachment, but understood what happened and understood what was to happen next.
She was closing her eyes, picturing her pretty home with the dark green paint and dark oak floors and light blue decor.
And she thought about her mama and papa and knew where they were they were okay.
...What did they do with the... bodies? Susan's high pitched voice broke her thoughts. And she kept her eyes open long enough to hear James' reply.
The mother and father were saved in time, but the little girl-- Viola, the fire damaged the way to her room. They couldn't get her in time. They say she died from carbon monoxide poisoning before she was... too injured.
Viola felt herself smile and she closed her eyes.
Mama and papa have another Christmas.
Her small fingers tapped the dark oak wood and she began clicking the toes of her Mary Jane's together.
She was so used to this place, for she grew up here.
Or, she grew up to her age now.
Which, seeing her short stature and little limbs, a person would assume she would be roughly eight years of age.
Which would be a proper assumption.
This little girl knew every nook and cranny within and outside of this house.
She knew the dark forest green paint chipped every summer and that he papa had to repaint it.
She knew that the wooden steps that she sat upon creaked no matter how little a person weighed.
She knew that when you walked through the bright white door you were hit by the steep staircase- also old dark oak, and when you got to the second floor and made an immediate right her room would be there.
She knew that if you decided to take a left there would be a bathroom.
And if you decided to keep going left there would be her parent's room.
She knew if you walked into the kitchen there was a loose floor board exactly six steps forward and three right, and under this floorboard was enough room for a little eight year old girl to hide during hide-and-go-seek.
She knew that in the endless forest backyard there was a 'cave' made out of logs and dead trees that she never did figure out how it was made before she--- ran out of time.
Her attention snapped away from her thoughts and she pulled the hand that was playing mindlessly with her long dark hair away from her face.
She never did find out what she looked like. Oh no, see, mama had a belief about vanity evolving from when you were a young girl, so she wouldn't let her daughter look in any mirrors.
But her parents told her how lovely and cute she looked every day nonetheless.
Because compliments don't cause vanity.
She moved her hands from her sides to her dress, which was speckled with ash for some reason.
A reason she couldn't remember. But she found it curious nonetheless.
The little girl's blue eyes looked in front of her now, as she watched a mother and father drive up to her home.
Curiosity spiked within her again as she watched the bug-looking car pull up the gravel road.
The car was a pale blue with silver trimmings.
She thought it looked rather boring.
Blue was such a common car colour at this day and age.
But maybe they'll make better cars with better colours.
Come on, Susan. The man spoke. She thought he looked rather dashing. Slicked light brown hair with what seemed to be deep brown eyes. Hm. Handsome. She had decided.
I'm coming, James. Oh my... it really is in rough shape ain't it? The little girl decided the woman was Susan.
The little girl looked up at her house. Rough shape? Never. The paint was just re-painted and everything seemed to have an unearthly pale glow to it.
She looked back to Susan and James. Susan seemed to hobble from the car, and as soon as she got on her feet she caressed her bulging stomach.
She was pregnant, the little girl decided.
She was a very pretty pregnant woman. Her dark blond hair was braided into a bun and even though the little girl couldn't see Susan's eyes due to the large bulbous glasses she was wearing, she decided her eyes were as blue as the darkest pits of the sea.
She clicked her Mary Jane's.
Well the family before us... well I told you already. It was devastating. This was James.
Susan cleared her throat, I am not too sure about this, darling. It could be haunted.
But James scoffed and held out his hand for his darling wife and led them up to the oak stairs leading to the little girl's home.
They paused, admiring the home. The little girl watched them.
Susan was much prettier up close. She had fleshy pink lips that seemed a bit too large for her face and a petite nose that kept her sunglasses up snobbishly. But she was a very pretty woman, the little girl decided.
It'll take some work hon, but my gosh will it be worth it. James was glowing now.
Susan gasped suddenly, reaching to her stomach.
What is it? What's wrong? Is the baby okay? James lurched towards her, bringing her close to his body.
Susan's sunglasses fell off.
The little girl lifted the corners of her lips. Her eyes were as blue as the darkest depths of the sea.
Black.
Yes, yes... it was just flailing. Oh James, I don't know about this. I feel really uneasy. Like someone is watching us... As Susan said this she looked at the little girl sitting in front of her.
The little girl looked at her ebony irises.
And didn't blink as the woman and the man walked up the steps through her after the man cooed her into entering the home.
But when the little girl did blink and look at her home, the dark green paint was splattered with broken windows and beams that had collapsed. The pristine exterior was black and burnt up. The roof had half fallen off, leaving a large wooden rubble pile on the side of the house.
The little girl stood up slowly.
And she looked at her home.
A bright flash crossed her eyes and suddenly she was in her light blue nightgown, sleeping in her bed with light blue bed sheets.
She was very calm.
She was wide awake.
She heard it first.
A strange crackling that was unfamiliar to her, but familiar at the same time.
It was loud.
She shuffled out of her bed after pulling the covers off of her.
She leaned her ear against her ivory door and listened.
It was loud.
Carefully, in a confused state, she opened her door.
And was hit by a thick billowing column of smoke.
Startled, she leaped back, not shutting her door fully.
She could see the bright red flames licking the wooden floor.
And she realized why it sounded familiar in its unfamiliar state.
It sounded like the fireplace at Christmas time.
The little girl smiled a bit then, thinking about Christmas.
How, she won't get Christmas this year.
But how she hoped her mama and papa would get one.
She went to the wall furthest from the door and slid down it until she had her head in her lap. She was coughing a lot now, as though her lungs were burning.
She was getting tired now, and the room was spinning.
The little girl brought her head against the wall, staring at the whirling ceiling.
It was a pretty ceiling.
A pretty home.
Her pretty home.
Then she saw a glint of something, and noticed the window.
Why hadn't she thought of the window?
She opened her mouth, only to be greeted by the smoke.
She was really warm now. She had a thick layer of sweat consuming her.
She tried to get up, placing her hands on the floor to push her up. But her arms gave and her knees buckled, and she lay on the floor. It felt so cool. She wondered if it would cool her down.
Her cheek was on the dark oak floor, and she could see the flames licking the ground around her.
She was hurting a lot now, she knew what was happening and she wanted it to end now.
She was closing her eyes now, thinking about how thirsty she was.
She tried to mover fingers. It hurt, but she still had them. They still moved.
And as she fell asleep she closed her hand around her pretty home.
Another flash crossed her vision. She parted her lips, and she noticed how she wasn't thirsty anymore.
As the couple opened the door she could see the stairs stained black from the fire that hurt her. From the fire that hurt her home.
She felt attachment, but understood what happened and understood what was to happen next.
She was closing her eyes, picturing her pretty home with the dark green paint and dark oak floors and light blue decor.
And she thought about her mama and papa and knew where they were they were okay.
...What did they do with the... bodies? Susan's high pitched voice broke her thoughts. And she kept her eyes open long enough to hear James' reply.
The mother and father were saved in time, but the little girl-- Viola, the fire damaged the way to her room. They couldn't get her in time. They say she died from carbon monoxide poisoning before she was... too injured.
Viola felt herself smile and she closed her eyes.
Mama and papa have another Christmas.
Saturday, 6 June 2015
Your Story
There are so many possible stories that occur throughout your life.
Possible choices that lead to possible relationships,
Possible relationships that lead to possible romances,
Possible romances that lead to possible loves,
Possible loves that lead to possible lives.
And each choice you make
Shifts the new outcome.
For instance,
Deciding to take a leap of faith and saying hello to someone
you for some reason find intriguing.
Even
If
You
Don't
Know
Them.
The scariest part though isn't asking them how their day was, oh no this is easy.
The scary part is seeing their response.
From how their faces will either light up or grow bored,
From the way they shuffle their feet or clear their throats.
You only have so much power.
Half the power.
They carry the other half, even though it feels like they carry all the power.
You both need to step forward.
And even that is a new possible story.
Another story is if you step forward and they step back.
Or they step to you but you pull down a veil.
The hardest part is accepting who you are for them to accept who you are.
The hardest part is very similar to the scariest part,
But the hardest part is what you do rather than what they do.
But this is the mentality portion.
You have to build up the courage to force yourself to step forward.
You have to remind yourself to breathe and to stop shaking.
That's the hard part.
But the best thing about this story
Is the story itself.
The build up to events,
The reactions they give.
The best part is going to bed at night feeling waves of content and overriding joy fall asleep with you into pale dreams of a happiness you never thought you would have at this time two, three years ago.
The best part is that the story you are in is your story.
It is intriguing and scary and hard.
But my god,
It's beautiful.
Possible choices that lead to possible relationships,
Possible relationships that lead to possible romances,
Possible romances that lead to possible loves,
Possible loves that lead to possible lives.
And each choice you make
Shifts the new outcome.
For instance,
Deciding to take a leap of faith and saying hello to someone
you for some reason find intriguing.
Even
If
You
Don't
Know
Them.
The scariest part though isn't asking them how their day was, oh no this is easy.
The scary part is seeing their response.
From how their faces will either light up or grow bored,
From the way they shuffle their feet or clear their throats.
You only have so much power.
Half the power.
They carry the other half, even though it feels like they carry all the power.
You both need to step forward.
And even that is a new possible story.
Another story is if you step forward and they step back.
Or they step to you but you pull down a veil.
The hardest part is accepting who you are for them to accept who you are.
The hardest part is very similar to the scariest part,
But the hardest part is what you do rather than what they do.
But this is the mentality portion.
You have to build up the courage to force yourself to step forward.
You have to remind yourself to breathe and to stop shaking.
That's the hard part.
But the best thing about this story
Is the story itself.
The build up to events,
The reactions they give.
The best part is going to bed at night feeling waves of content and overriding joy fall asleep with you into pale dreams of a happiness you never thought you would have at this time two, three years ago.
The best part is that the story you are in is your story.
It is intriguing and scary and hard.
But my god,
It's beautiful.
Friday, 15 May 2015
The Chapel
She walked through the doorway, a smile lingering on her her lips.
"You're late." His calm voice echoed through the empty house.
She stepped into the kitchen, gently folding her hands in front of her. She felt the soft fabric of her dress and inhaled the smell of the forest.
"At least I showered." She replied playfully.
The man walked into the light. His jet black hair was greased back, and even though he was wearing a suit, she could see the dirt stains on his hands. They watched each other for a moment before he rose his hand slowly, and closed the space between them.
In a fluid motion he brushed a stray curl away from her face, "You look lovely, Vi."
Her smile only widened, "Are you ready, Jackson?"
He didn't reply quickly, instead he stepped back and took her in.
Vi's smile began to falter, but before she could begin to doubt herself he grabbed her hands.
"I've been ready for a long time."
In the quiet house, they held still.
Jackson led her to the door, and they walked down to their small town car. He waited for her to get comfortable in her seat before he shut the door and moved to the driver's seat.
The drive was quite. Comfortable. Vi watched the trees soar past them as they made their way to the building. She tried to count how many trees they passed, but lost count almost right away.
They didn't turn on the radio, but instead listened to one another's heart beat.
It felt like a moment, but it took them half an hour to get there.
He pulled up and they sat there. Comfortable.
He then turned to her and leaned to kiss her cheek. He paused to inhale her perfume. It was a mix of lilacs and fresh, light air.
As he pulled away he muttered, "I'll see you soon, darling."
Jackson exited the car, only to stop to pull her door open to let her out. But she waited in the car for several moments until the man was inside the white marble building.
Vi squeezed her fingers, and let her right forefinger linger on the small, thin band that wrapped around her left ring-finger.
She smoothed out her dress and stood out, into the wind.
Vi pulled her little purse out in front of her, and pulled out a small, compact mirror. She rose it to her face and began fixing minor make-up mistakes. She smoothed out her kohl eye-liner, re-applied her deep red lipstick, and pinched her cheeks for a rush of red. Then she fixed any dark stray hairs by tucking them back against her head into the already made bun.
Then she walked into the hauntingly beautiful building, and saw the man with dark slicked back hair standing at the very end of the aisle, staring at her with a slim, silent smile.
By the time she took a step forward she understood.
She was never late.
"You're late." His calm voice echoed through the empty house.
She stepped into the kitchen, gently folding her hands in front of her. She felt the soft fabric of her dress and inhaled the smell of the forest.
"At least I showered." She replied playfully.
The man walked into the light. His jet black hair was greased back, and even though he was wearing a suit, she could see the dirt stains on his hands. They watched each other for a moment before he rose his hand slowly, and closed the space between them.
In a fluid motion he brushed a stray curl away from her face, "You look lovely, Vi."
Her smile only widened, "Are you ready, Jackson?"
He didn't reply quickly, instead he stepped back and took her in.
Vi's smile began to falter, but before she could begin to doubt herself he grabbed her hands.
"I've been ready for a long time."
In the quiet house, they held still.
Jackson led her to the door, and they walked down to their small town car. He waited for her to get comfortable in her seat before he shut the door and moved to the driver's seat.
The drive was quite. Comfortable. Vi watched the trees soar past them as they made their way to the building. She tried to count how many trees they passed, but lost count almost right away.
They didn't turn on the radio, but instead listened to one another's heart beat.
It felt like a moment, but it took them half an hour to get there.
He pulled up and they sat there. Comfortable.
He then turned to her and leaned to kiss her cheek. He paused to inhale her perfume. It was a mix of lilacs and fresh, light air.
As he pulled away he muttered, "I'll see you soon, darling."
Jackson exited the car, only to stop to pull her door open to let her out. But she waited in the car for several moments until the man was inside the white marble building.
Vi squeezed her fingers, and let her right forefinger linger on the small, thin band that wrapped around her left ring-finger.
She smoothed out her dress and stood out, into the wind.
Vi pulled her little purse out in front of her, and pulled out a small, compact mirror. She rose it to her face and began fixing minor make-up mistakes. She smoothed out her kohl eye-liner, re-applied her deep red lipstick, and pinched her cheeks for a rush of red. Then she fixed any dark stray hairs by tucking them back against her head into the already made bun.
Then she walked into the hauntingly beautiful building, and saw the man with dark slicked back hair standing at the very end of the aisle, staring at her with a slim, silent smile.
By the time she took a step forward she understood.
She was never late.
Thursday, 23 April 2015
Dreams Are a Strange Thing.
She stood in front of the mirror, but the girl who she saw was not her--- even though it was.
For her hair, it was much shorter.
Her nose, it was much smaller.
Her eyes, they were much larger.
Her lips, they were much fuller.
Her skin, it was much paler.
But it was her.
For, you see, as she lifted her arms-- so did the other girl's.
When she moved her mouth-- so did the other girl's.
But when the girl in the mirror spoke, the girl who was standing before it did not.
They girl with short hair said robotic-ally, as she poked her cheek "I am so much paler than you."
"But aren't we the same person?" Asked the original girl.
A large smile was planted on the short haired girl's lips. "Oh no. You'll never be me."
For her hair, it was much shorter.
Her nose, it was much smaller.
Her eyes, they were much larger.
Her lips, they were much fuller.
Her skin, it was much paler.
But it was her.
For, you see, as she lifted her arms-- so did the other girl's.
When she moved her mouth-- so did the other girl's.
But when the girl in the mirror spoke, the girl who was standing before it did not.
They girl with short hair said robotic-ally, as she poked her cheek "I am so much paler than you."
"But aren't we the same person?" Asked the original girl.
A large smile was planted on the short haired girl's lips. "Oh no. You'll never be me."
Friday, 13 March 2015
A Cigarette
I brought the cigarette between my lips, pausing for a second- a second so quick no one could notice I breathed outward, before inhaling deeply. I clenched my teeth, refusing to cough. I will not cough. He wouldn't cough. He smoked like it was as easy as breathing. He would place the cigarette against his mouth any second now, inhale, hold, exhale, laugh, inhale, hold, exhale, say something about how my sunglasses have finger prints on them, inhale, hold, exhale, offer me one. I'd say no. I always said no.
I brought the thin white paper to my face, and just held it.
A few girls walked by me, and I felt their steady gaze on the hand by my face. On the cigarette. I inhaled deeply. Do not cough. Do not cough. Jane I swear to god, do not fucking cough.
They were out of site.
I hurled over, choking up my lungs.
"God!" I slammed my hands against the wall I was now leaning against. The rough red bricks scraped my hand, I cursed while pinching the still burning cigarette.
"Is this what you wanted?!" I shouted at the wall. I could see him. His head would be tilting ever so slightly. His mouth would be slightly upturned. The black leather jacket would be crinkled as he would place his hands in his jean pockets. He'd pull out his pack. He's pull out his lighter. He'd bring both to his mouth. And then he'd pause for a second. A second no one could see. But I saw it. I saw it every time. I saw his hesitation.
"Your hesitation should have lasted longer." I spat at the wall, "You should have thrown out your pack. Taken up some activity. For God's sake--!" A sob choked my throat, "Kept your nerves calm some other way." I flicked the built up ash off the tip of the cigarette and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down into sitting position.
I stared at the cigarette.
"Is this what you wanted?" I flicked off more ash, "This was your plan wasn't it. You do this with a lot of people. You don't have to though. You could stop this. Stop hurting people." More ash.
I didn't expect it to respond.
"You do realize that's an inanimate object, right?" For a second-- only a second-- I freaked out because I thought it was talking to me. To be fair though, I hadn't slept in the past month. But I calmed down when I realized that one, the voice was right. It was an inanimate object. Two, the voice was female. And I know this may be gender biased, but I thought a cigarette would sound kind of like a raspy old man.
I looked up, only to see a pair of green eyes and a quite noticeable chest that was being enclosed by a tank top.
I blinked.
She was brave.
She sat down next to me.
"Cancer?" Her voice did sound kind of raspy.
I didn't look at her dark red hair pulled into a very high pony tail. Or her vibrant green, spider-like nails. Or her stiletto scarlet pumps. And I didn't even notice her very short jean skirt. I brought the cigarette to my mouth, paused, inhaled. Don't cough, Jane. I swear to- well, you already know who.
"You do know you aren't technically aloud to smoke in this area, right? If you want to smoke outside a hospital, there are designated areas." Her bright pink lips popped a perfect bubble with minty gum.
I inhaled.
"You might not want to talk, but I had to speak to ya." Pop.
Inhale.
"You can't smoke here." Pop.
Inhale.
"You may not believe this, but I'm a doctor here. You can't smoke here." Chew. Chew. Chew.
I looked at her. Her green eyes seemed so bright, and that's when I noticed the laugh lines by her eyes.
"Come on." She stood up with ease, and offered me her hand. "Come on, sweets." She tugged my free hand up.
We were walking around the hospital. My limbs felt heavy. I don't like smoking. It makes my body feel gross.
We stopped suddenly.
"Here. You can smoke here." She smiled. Her laugh lines were emphasized.
"Thanks." I mumbled. Inhale.
"She speaks," She said as she rose her eyebrows in awe, "What other words do ya know?" Pop.
"Fuck." Inhale.
She let out a harsh, surprised laugh, "That was unexpected. And crude."
"Aren't you worried about second-hand smoke damage to your lungs?" I asked apathetically. Inhale.
"Sweets, I'm a doctor and I've been smoking since I was ten. I know the risks. I know how addicting it is. I'm a walking oxymoron. A doctor who smokes." She laughed more heartily. I heard the raspy again.
And for a second, while her profile was laughing, I saw him laughing. He didn't have laugh lines though. But I guess he always seemed permanently young. He was supposed to stay young with me.
"So it took you a bit to speak, I'm guessing you're the same with laughing." Her pink lips grinned.
Inhale. Flick.
She exhaled slowly; calmly.
We didn't speak for a while. My cigarette was almost out.
He would be putting it under his shoe, grinding it out. He would be pulling out another one. Pack, lighter, mouth, pause, inhale.
His hands eventually began shaking.
His hair was starting to thin.
By the time we found out, it was too late.
"Why did you say Cancer?" I asked while trying to cover my cough.
She answered while looking ahead, "You'd be surprised, but working in a hospital you see a lot of Cancer patients." Her smile was dripping with sarcasm. But she still seemed happy. Then she turned to me, "I saw you practically vomit. You haven't been smoking long. I'd say you started the past twenty-four hours. And I realize I'm supposed to respect patients privacy, but I was Wesley's doctor."
My throat closed when she said his name.
"Wesley had been smoking for a very long time."
"Don't."
"But just because he died that was, doesn't mean you should." Pop.
Inhale.
"I'm surprised you don't recognize me." She said while chewing, chewing, chewing.
I rose an eyebrow. I think I'd remember her bright pink lips and vibrant green nails. Especially her doctoral dressing habits.
Inhale.
"Let me introduce myself to you again Ms. McKinley." She lobbed her wad of gum into the trash can, pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe off her lipstick, released her hair from the pony tail and folding her hands carefully in front of her. Her posture suddenly changed, and her voice grew serious. In my sleep deprived state, her name rushed back to me.
"Doctor Hansen." We said in unison.
I groaned, "For--"
"God's sake. I know." She pulled a slender tube from her pocket, and she tugged the cap off revealing a thick bubble gum pink lipstick-- one that was well used. She laughed, "Hey, currently I'm on a break. Losing a patient is hard, and we had to sort out paper work."
I clenched my teeth.
"Oh I'm sorry, did I offend you?" She suddenly sounded angry.
"Yes-"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you could taste my words with nicotine staining your tongue."
I blinked, too shocked to say anything.
"Ms. McKinley, you don't have to take up his dirty habit." She put a new stick of gum in her mouth.
I looked at the cigarette.
"There wasn't anything we could do for Wesley, Ms. McKinley. But you still have so much potential." I brought the last bit of cigarette to my lips and paused.
"He wouldn't want you to go down this path."
I laughed, "He was always offering me them. He wanted me to be like him." I frowned, "I finally am."
"Jane." Our eyes met, "Do you honestly believe he would have asked you if he knew you would have said yes?" We were silent for a moment. The ask was building up. "Well," she sighed, "My break is almost over. Think about what you want, Jane."
And she clicked away in her red pumps.
Click
Click
Click.
I stared at the burning cigarette.
And then I felt it slip out of my fingers.
And I watched the ashes crumble against the cement.
And I brought my sneaker over it.
And I crunched it.
Dr. Hansen stopped at the door and looked at me.
And she smiled.
I brought the thin white paper to my face, and just held it.
A few girls walked by me, and I felt their steady gaze on the hand by my face. On the cigarette. I inhaled deeply. Do not cough. Do not cough. Jane I swear to god, do not fucking cough.
They were out of site.
I hurled over, choking up my lungs.
"God!" I slammed my hands against the wall I was now leaning against. The rough red bricks scraped my hand, I cursed while pinching the still burning cigarette.
"Is this what you wanted?!" I shouted at the wall. I could see him. His head would be tilting ever so slightly. His mouth would be slightly upturned. The black leather jacket would be crinkled as he would place his hands in his jean pockets. He'd pull out his pack. He's pull out his lighter. He'd bring both to his mouth. And then he'd pause for a second. A second no one could see. But I saw it. I saw it every time. I saw his hesitation.
"Your hesitation should have lasted longer." I spat at the wall, "You should have thrown out your pack. Taken up some activity. For God's sake--!" A sob choked my throat, "Kept your nerves calm some other way." I flicked the built up ash off the tip of the cigarette and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down into sitting position.
I stared at the cigarette.
"Is this what you wanted?" I flicked off more ash, "This was your plan wasn't it. You do this with a lot of people. You don't have to though. You could stop this. Stop hurting people." More ash.
I didn't expect it to respond.
"You do realize that's an inanimate object, right?" For a second-- only a second-- I freaked out because I thought it was talking to me. To be fair though, I hadn't slept in the past month. But I calmed down when I realized that one, the voice was right. It was an inanimate object. Two, the voice was female. And I know this may be gender biased, but I thought a cigarette would sound kind of like a raspy old man.
I looked up, only to see a pair of green eyes and a quite noticeable chest that was being enclosed by a tank top.
I blinked.
She was brave.
She sat down next to me.
"Cancer?" Her voice did sound kind of raspy.
I didn't look at her dark red hair pulled into a very high pony tail. Or her vibrant green, spider-like nails. Or her stiletto scarlet pumps. And I didn't even notice her very short jean skirt. I brought the cigarette to my mouth, paused, inhaled. Don't cough, Jane. I swear to- well, you already know who.
"You do know you aren't technically aloud to smoke in this area, right? If you want to smoke outside a hospital, there are designated areas." Her bright pink lips popped a perfect bubble with minty gum.
I inhaled.
"You might not want to talk, but I had to speak to ya." Pop.
Inhale.
"You can't smoke here." Pop.
Inhale.
"You may not believe this, but I'm a doctor here. You can't smoke here." Chew. Chew. Chew.
I looked at her. Her green eyes seemed so bright, and that's when I noticed the laugh lines by her eyes.
"Come on." She stood up with ease, and offered me her hand. "Come on, sweets." She tugged my free hand up.
We were walking around the hospital. My limbs felt heavy. I don't like smoking. It makes my body feel gross.
We stopped suddenly.
"Here. You can smoke here." She smiled. Her laugh lines were emphasized.
"Thanks." I mumbled. Inhale.
"She speaks," She said as she rose her eyebrows in awe, "What other words do ya know?" Pop.
"Fuck." Inhale.
She let out a harsh, surprised laugh, "That was unexpected. And crude."
"Aren't you worried about second-hand smoke damage to your lungs?" I asked apathetically. Inhale.
"Sweets, I'm a doctor and I've been smoking since I was ten. I know the risks. I know how addicting it is. I'm a walking oxymoron. A doctor who smokes." She laughed more heartily. I heard the raspy again.
And for a second, while her profile was laughing, I saw him laughing. He didn't have laugh lines though. But I guess he always seemed permanently young. He was supposed to stay young with me.
"So it took you a bit to speak, I'm guessing you're the same with laughing." Her pink lips grinned.
Inhale. Flick.
She exhaled slowly; calmly.
We didn't speak for a while. My cigarette was almost out.
He would be putting it under his shoe, grinding it out. He would be pulling out another one. Pack, lighter, mouth, pause, inhale.
His hands eventually began shaking.
His hair was starting to thin.
By the time we found out, it was too late.
"Why did you say Cancer?" I asked while trying to cover my cough.
She answered while looking ahead, "You'd be surprised, but working in a hospital you see a lot of Cancer patients." Her smile was dripping with sarcasm. But she still seemed happy. Then she turned to me, "I saw you practically vomit. You haven't been smoking long. I'd say you started the past twenty-four hours. And I realize I'm supposed to respect patients privacy, but I was Wesley's doctor."
My throat closed when she said his name.
"Wesley had been smoking for a very long time."
"Don't."
"But just because he died that was, doesn't mean you should." Pop.
Inhale.
"I'm surprised you don't recognize me." She said while chewing, chewing, chewing.
I rose an eyebrow. I think I'd remember her bright pink lips and vibrant green nails. Especially her doctoral dressing habits.
Inhale.
"Let me introduce myself to you again Ms. McKinley." She lobbed her wad of gum into the trash can, pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe off her lipstick, released her hair from the pony tail and folding her hands carefully in front of her. Her posture suddenly changed, and her voice grew serious. In my sleep deprived state, her name rushed back to me.
"Doctor Hansen." We said in unison.
I groaned, "For--"
"God's sake. I know." She pulled a slender tube from her pocket, and she tugged the cap off revealing a thick bubble gum pink lipstick-- one that was well used. She laughed, "Hey, currently I'm on a break. Losing a patient is hard, and we had to sort out paper work."
I clenched my teeth.
"Oh I'm sorry, did I offend you?" She suddenly sounded angry.
"Yes-"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you could taste my words with nicotine staining your tongue."
I blinked, too shocked to say anything.
"Ms. McKinley, you don't have to take up his dirty habit." She put a new stick of gum in her mouth.
I looked at the cigarette.
"There wasn't anything we could do for Wesley, Ms. McKinley. But you still have so much potential." I brought the last bit of cigarette to my lips and paused.
"He wouldn't want you to go down this path."
I laughed, "He was always offering me them. He wanted me to be like him." I frowned, "I finally am."
"Jane." Our eyes met, "Do you honestly believe he would have asked you if he knew you would have said yes?" We were silent for a moment. The ask was building up. "Well," she sighed, "My break is almost over. Think about what you want, Jane."
And she clicked away in her red pumps.
Click
Click
Click.
I stared at the burning cigarette.
And then I felt it slip out of my fingers.
And I watched the ashes crumble against the cement.
And I brought my sneaker over it.
And I crunched it.
Dr. Hansen stopped at the door and looked at me.
And she smiled.
Saturday, 21 February 2015
A Strange, Beautiful Dream
I have a lot of dreams.
Weird dreams.
Not ones that take place in the supermarket and the can I'm looking at is for fish children.
Oh no.
It's like I'm in a different life from a different universe.
I think that's why I believe my body is sleeping but my spirit goes to a different dimension.
I was packing because I was visiting a home, and it was time to leave. There was a boy there around my age who was getting on my nerves, and I knew I had to talk to him before I left. When I got to his room to get my bag (I was staying in his room seeing as there were two beds, three actually, but I'll get to that) and he was sitting on his bed reading.
When I opened the doors his eyes flicked up and went back to his book. I said meekly that I came to finish packing. He didn't respond until I started packing.
"Do things ever confuse you?" He put the book down.
"Yes, all the time, really." I was unzipping my bag to put in clothes.
"Aiya, what if something were to happen? Whether you're on the streets or not... or, here's a better example," He scooted closer to me, "If I were to kiss something, someone, or you, what would happen?" His face was getting closer and he repeated himself, "If I were to kiss something, someone or you..." My eyes were fluttering shut and dammit! I couldn't open them! I wanted to see this! Why can't I open them! I felt his breath get closer and my opened slightly enough to see his lips. I felt a soft, beautiful pressure on my cheeks, and after a moment he pulled away.
I was almost disappointed he didn't kiss my mouth, but I was so wonder-stuck I still. Couldn't. Open. My. Eyes. I was getting embarrassed. Finally I got them open and he was smiling at me.
The scene switched to us laying in bed (No, we didn't do anything, I knew that much) We were simply holding each other, sometimes kissing. But I knew I had to pack. So I told him that, and began to get up.
He asked if I had to.
"Aiya, please."
But I tilted my head and said, "When I'm done we don't have to stress about anything."
Now, I know I said my dreams get weird, and this doesn't sound weird. It sounds normal. This isn't. First off, I can't speak to guys I like. I feel like I'm annoying them, so I wait for them to talk to me- which is sometimes. Second, we haven't got to the weird part.
Suddenly there were bangs on the door, and he jumped out of bed in a fury, panic swept through me as I got so very confused as to what was happening. Two ghost girls appeared (I knew they were dead because I just knew) and hugged me. The scene changed to a train. We were all in a train, and the man banging at the door (I knew he was a man because he was banging on glass doors) was still trying to get in.
There were a lot of us now; me, the boy, the two ghost girls (Who lived in the bedroom with their brother before they died of a sickness, again, I just knew this) as well as a few of my family members and closest, oldest friends.
The boy gave us this tube and told us to put it on our teeth.
Ha. Ha. We did it without second thought.
The man was still banging, oh gosh it was scary and intense and crazy.
When we put the paste on our teeth, the green paste made our teeth- guess which colour-- Green!
We were all so confused, and the train wasn't moving but we knew we would get to our destination.
The boy who kissed me pulled me off to the side and I asked, "What's going on (I said his name, but it blurred out in the dream.)?"
He hugged me and said, "Magic and Natural power go against one another."
And then I looked at the man on the opposite side of the glass door holding a laser pen, trying to get in. And it was melting through the glass.
Ohhhh. It made sense now. The boy had some kind of power (Probably intense charisma, but I never find out) and the man uses magic! And they're enemies!
The dream ends with the boy giving us new tubes of paste to make our teeth white again, but the colour is bright, glowing white-- like when Ross bleaches his teeth.
If you've been on my blog before, you know my name is Emily. In dreams I've never told my name to anyone, and it felt like it was me. But in this dream, I not only told him my name, but I said my name was Maiya. Not only was that weird, but I was given a nickname in it-- Aiya.
This is the real reason I wanted to write down this dream, because this has never happened to me before with my memory. I thought it was incredible.
Thanks for reading, you lovely soul,
-Emily
Weird dreams.
Not ones that take place in the supermarket and the can I'm looking at is for fish children.
Oh no.
It's like I'm in a different life from a different universe.
I think that's why I believe my body is sleeping but my spirit goes to a different dimension.
I was packing because I was visiting a home, and it was time to leave. There was a boy there around my age who was getting on my nerves, and I knew I had to talk to him before I left. When I got to his room to get my bag (I was staying in his room seeing as there were two beds, three actually, but I'll get to that) and he was sitting on his bed reading.
When I opened the doors his eyes flicked up and went back to his book. I said meekly that I came to finish packing. He didn't respond until I started packing.
"Do things ever confuse you?" He put the book down.
"Yes, all the time, really." I was unzipping my bag to put in clothes.
"Aiya, what if something were to happen? Whether you're on the streets or not... or, here's a better example," He scooted closer to me, "If I were to kiss something, someone, or you, what would happen?" His face was getting closer and he repeated himself, "If I were to kiss something, someone or you..." My eyes were fluttering shut and dammit! I couldn't open them! I wanted to see this! Why can't I open them! I felt his breath get closer and my opened slightly enough to see his lips. I felt a soft, beautiful pressure on my cheeks, and after a moment he pulled away.
I was almost disappointed he didn't kiss my mouth, but I was so wonder-stuck I still. Couldn't. Open. My. Eyes. I was getting embarrassed. Finally I got them open and he was smiling at me.
The scene switched to us laying in bed (No, we didn't do anything, I knew that much) We were simply holding each other, sometimes kissing. But I knew I had to pack. So I told him that, and began to get up.
He asked if I had to.
"Aiya, please."
But I tilted my head and said, "When I'm done we don't have to stress about anything."
Now, I know I said my dreams get weird, and this doesn't sound weird. It sounds normal. This isn't. First off, I can't speak to guys I like. I feel like I'm annoying them, so I wait for them to talk to me- which is sometimes. Second, we haven't got to the weird part.
Suddenly there were bangs on the door, and he jumped out of bed in a fury, panic swept through me as I got so very confused as to what was happening. Two ghost girls appeared (I knew they were dead because I just knew) and hugged me. The scene changed to a train. We were all in a train, and the man banging at the door (I knew he was a man because he was banging on glass doors) was still trying to get in.
There were a lot of us now; me, the boy, the two ghost girls (Who lived in the bedroom with their brother before they died of a sickness, again, I just knew this) as well as a few of my family members and closest, oldest friends.
The boy gave us this tube and told us to put it on our teeth.
Ha. Ha. We did it without second thought.
The man was still banging, oh gosh it was scary and intense and crazy.
When we put the paste on our teeth, the green paste made our teeth- guess which colour-- Green!
We were all so confused, and the train wasn't moving but we knew we would get to our destination.
The boy who kissed me pulled me off to the side and I asked, "What's going on (I said his name, but it blurred out in the dream.)?"
He hugged me and said, "Magic and Natural power go against one another."
And then I looked at the man on the opposite side of the glass door holding a laser pen, trying to get in. And it was melting through the glass.
Ohhhh. It made sense now. The boy had some kind of power (Probably intense charisma, but I never find out) and the man uses magic! And they're enemies!
The dream ends with the boy giving us new tubes of paste to make our teeth white again, but the colour is bright, glowing white-- like when Ross bleaches his teeth.
If you've been on my blog before, you know my name is Emily. In dreams I've never told my name to anyone, and it felt like it was me. But in this dream, I not only told him my name, but I said my name was Maiya. Not only was that weird, but I was given a nickname in it-- Aiya.
This is the real reason I wanted to write down this dream, because this has never happened to me before with my memory. I thought it was incredible.
Thanks for reading, you lovely soul,
-Emily
Monday, 16 February 2015
An Undead Tale
Panic struck me as I rolled over, pulled the safety off my hand gun and was deafened suddenly by the three quick shots I released.
The body dropped on top of me, the hundred-and-eighty-something pound man pinning me to the ground. His rotten smell enveloped my nose causing me to gag. But I knew I had to hold it down, otherwise I'd suffocate in my own stomach waste.
I shimmied my left hand into the inner side of my pant waist, tugging out a worn dagger and stabbing the man's gut to push him off.
With great strain his body slowly slumped to the side, allowing me to turn over and hurl.
What little that was in my stomach was now under me, and my body felt exhausted.
That was the second close-call in the past day that almost sent me to my own immortal death.
"Fuck!" I spat, punching the cement beneath me, "Fucking fuck!"
I gasped and sat on my heels, looking up at the setting sun. There was a stale taste in my mouth, and I didn't want to waste the water I had to rinse it out, so I pulled out a cigarette instead while adjusting myself to be able to see my ankle. Or in other words, the ankle that the man had grabbed.
Relief filled me as I realized he hadn't broken my skin with his filthy nails that were filled with this disease.
I remember sitting at home with my brother when we were younger saying how the world needed something to purge people. I know that's awful, honest I do, but we were young and heard all about over population issues and all of these terrorist threats.
When the virus hit the news, it seemed like a blessing.
But it wasn't.
It wasn't a blessing because it wasn't natural.
A blessing is something from the natural world that brings a person luck or sense of calm.
This was neither.
I pushed myself up, setting into a steady jog across this street. All the doors of the large houses were bolted down with wooden planks, metal poles and simple cardboard. As the sun kept setting, my panic was returning.
I remember when it was the sixth night when the disease started, we weren't too scared because media hyped things up, we knew that. We knew that. But when I was in bed, the front door started banging. Really, really aggressively. It woke my fifteen-year-old self, as well as my older brother. Mum and dad were already up, they were always arguing and for the past few days they were arguing about whether to stay at home or visit our grandparents. But I was really scared. Adrenaline hit me, see? And my heart was racing. My brother's room was right next to mine, and I rushed into his room full of fear, to see that he was in his clothes, a backpack on his back and his sword on his waist. He got that sword for his ninth birthday. He loved Japanese culture, so a family friend got him an antique katana. He looked at me when I walked in and asked if I was okay. I hugged him.
Dad when to check the door.
That was the first mistake.
That was the first damned mistake.
The thing lunged at him.
It didn't bit him anywhere.
It tore him a part.
Drove its hands into his chest with its nails. Mum ran down to help him, but they travel in packs. They're smart. They're very smart.
My brother and I stayed in his room.
My breath was coming quicker, I was running faster. The sun was almost gone. I finally saw the lighthouse. Thank fuck.
But like I said, they're smart. This disease... I know people would call them zombies. I know people get angry when shows call them 'walkers' or 'undead' but I can't use the term zombie. The disease is a strain of rabies and tumour cells. The people who made it thought the two could cancel out one another. But it made a mecha-virus. A terrifying virus. The cancer cells multiplied muscle cells and tissue as well as rapid brain cell growth. It protected their minds while giving increased strength and longer limbs. Then the rabies... it made them crazed. Rapid movement, sharper teeth and longer nails. It shut down the analytical mind and amplified the murderous, kill-or-be-killed. Then once they began eating flesh like cannibals, it warped their sense of sanity to the extreme, just like how cannibals are affected.
As I reached the water to the lighthouse I dove in without hesitation, swimming to the little island. And by the time I made it to the door, the sky was purple.
My brother was always into dressing up as a superhero- spiderman, batman-- even as a Jedi master. He had his sword ready as I quivered behind him, we both were watching the door.
We heard and saw the door shaking. I felt tears forming. He was sturdy. Finally, the doorknob began turning. Really slowly. I thought about how in movies they did this to create suspense, but it was the killer toying with the prey. The door shot open and the thing jumped at my brother. I remember screaming as he swung his sword against the man's head. It was rusty, but it cracked his skull and he dropped. My brother was heaving. More were coming through the door and he was slicing them. When there was a break he shoved me, his backpack and something I didn't see under his bed, and he pushed several dead bodies over the bottom so I couldn't be seen or smelled. And I was trying not to cry. I was confused as to why he wasn't hiding with me. But I waited under the bed for days. Waited for him to get me. Waited for me to stop being afraid. But finally, I pushed out from under the bed, and stood up.
My legs were sore, as well as me back. I tucked the little package he left into the bag and looked around and grabbed what I could. I also checked around the entire house for useful items. By the time I got to the front door, I noticed that mum and dad were tucked on the couch, looking like they were asleep, and the front door closed. I sighed and opened it while saying goodbye to mum and dad.
I threw my shoulder against the door, falling into the lighthouse. Up, up, up I went. Finding my little sleeping ground by the rotating light. I sat on my sleeping bag, looking through my backpack. At the bottom was the little package my brother left me.
I added another day to my journal.
It had been Seven Hundred and Eighty-Two Days.
Just over two years.
I sighed and pulled out the package. He would be Twenty today.
I opened the package for the second time and reread the note inside of it.
Keep going, Isabelle, I'm out there. I love you. I'll find you by grandma's as soon as possible. When you get there, wait for me. I'll be waiting for you too. But you need to get to -----
I dropped the package in water before I read it. But I'll get there. The sentence after talks about me meeting someone. Someone by town hall. The lighthouse is a thirty minute walk to town hall, and I sit there all day, and come back here to sleep. I've been doing it for two years.
I heard the Lighthouse door open, fear slicing through my skull. I grabbed the knife and huddled against the wall, waiting.
When the virus hit the news, it seemed like a blessing.
But it wasn't.
It wasn't a blessing because it wasn't natural.
A blessing is something from the natural world that brings a person luck or sense of calm.
This was neither.
I pushed myself up, setting into a steady jog across this street. All the doors of the large houses were bolted down with wooden planks, metal poles and simple cardboard. As the sun kept setting, my panic was returning.
I remember when it was the sixth night when the disease started, we weren't too scared because media hyped things up, we knew that. We knew that. But when I was in bed, the front door started banging. Really, really aggressively. It woke my fifteen-year-old self, as well as my older brother. Mum and dad were already up, they were always arguing and for the past few days they were arguing about whether to stay at home or visit our grandparents. But I was really scared. Adrenaline hit me, see? And my heart was racing. My brother's room was right next to mine, and I rushed into his room full of fear, to see that he was in his clothes, a backpack on his back and his sword on his waist. He got that sword for his ninth birthday. He loved Japanese culture, so a family friend got him an antique katana. He looked at me when I walked in and asked if I was okay. I hugged him.
Dad when to check the door.
That was the first mistake.
That was the first damned mistake.
The thing lunged at him.
It didn't bit him anywhere.
It tore him a part.
Drove its hands into his chest with its nails. Mum ran down to help him, but they travel in packs. They're smart. They're very smart.
My brother and I stayed in his room.
My breath was coming quicker, I was running faster. The sun was almost gone. I finally saw the lighthouse. Thank fuck.
But like I said, they're smart. This disease... I know people would call them zombies. I know people get angry when shows call them 'walkers' or 'undead' but I can't use the term zombie. The disease is a strain of rabies and tumour cells. The people who made it thought the two could cancel out one another. But it made a mecha-virus. A terrifying virus. The cancer cells multiplied muscle cells and tissue as well as rapid brain cell growth. It protected their minds while giving increased strength and longer limbs. Then the rabies... it made them crazed. Rapid movement, sharper teeth and longer nails. It shut down the analytical mind and amplified the murderous, kill-or-be-killed. Then once they began eating flesh like cannibals, it warped their sense of sanity to the extreme, just like how cannibals are affected.
As I reached the water to the lighthouse I dove in without hesitation, swimming to the little island. And by the time I made it to the door, the sky was purple.
My brother was always into dressing up as a superhero- spiderman, batman-- even as a Jedi master. He had his sword ready as I quivered behind him, we both were watching the door.
We heard and saw the door shaking. I felt tears forming. He was sturdy. Finally, the doorknob began turning. Really slowly. I thought about how in movies they did this to create suspense, but it was the killer toying with the prey. The door shot open and the thing jumped at my brother. I remember screaming as he swung his sword against the man's head. It was rusty, but it cracked his skull and he dropped. My brother was heaving. More were coming through the door and he was slicing them. When there was a break he shoved me, his backpack and something I didn't see under his bed, and he pushed several dead bodies over the bottom so I couldn't be seen or smelled. And I was trying not to cry. I was confused as to why he wasn't hiding with me. But I waited under the bed for days. Waited for him to get me. Waited for me to stop being afraid. But finally, I pushed out from under the bed, and stood up.
My legs were sore, as well as me back. I tucked the little package he left into the bag and looked around and grabbed what I could. I also checked around the entire house for useful items. By the time I got to the front door, I noticed that mum and dad were tucked on the couch, looking like they were asleep, and the front door closed. I sighed and opened it while saying goodbye to mum and dad.
I threw my shoulder against the door, falling into the lighthouse. Up, up, up I went. Finding my little sleeping ground by the rotating light. I sat on my sleeping bag, looking through my backpack. At the bottom was the little package my brother left me.
I added another day to my journal.
It had been Seven Hundred and Eighty-Two Days.
Just over two years.
I sighed and pulled out the package. He would be Twenty today.
I opened the package for the second time and reread the note inside of it.
Keep going, Isabelle, I'm out there. I love you. I'll find you by grandma's as soon as possible. When you get there, wait for me. I'll be waiting for you too. But you need to get to -----
I dropped the package in water before I read it. But I'll get there. The sentence after talks about me meeting someone. Someone by town hall. The lighthouse is a thirty minute walk to town hall, and I sit there all day, and come back here to sleep. I've been doing it for two years.
I heard the Lighthouse door open, fear slicing through my skull. I grabbed the knife and huddled against the wall, waiting.
Thursday, 9 October 2014
Matthew
I first met this boy when I was living in the tiny shack that my mum excused for a house. This house had one hallway when you open the sliding glass door to the very minimal space meant for a living room couch. I guess it was more like an in ground trailer.
The living room had somehow managed to fit an under stuffed deep red plaid couch that had frayed holes along the arms. And if you stood behind the couch, you were already one step from the kitchen. It held a mini fridge and a toaster oven. And that was how we cooked.
But of course I didn't care then. I was a six year old little girl who simply adored sprinting up and down the single hall way. The single hallway that lead to two rooms. As you walked down the narrow ply wood hall, to the left was the snug office. Surrounded by a book shelf that lined the entire room, and was stuffed with a book in every space. On the furthest side a desk was placed, taking up half the room. As well as an overly large plush leather swirly chair.
I used to play simple games on the computer that lay evenly on the desk.
And if you walked to the end of the hall, you would enter the bedroom. The single bedroom that held my mum and I. I slept with her for the longest time, because we only had the single queen bed. But as I grew old enough to be considered a woman, we sold the queen for two single beds.
I first met this boy when I was whirling in circles in the office. The computer had gone to sleep and as I spun around, making myself sickly ill, I caught a glimpse of a boy's hair behind me in the reflection. I tumbled out of the chair, toppling it over with fear. I became scared, paranoid of what I had seen. I hadn't truly seen someone, it was a trick of the light.
But as I fixed the chair and turned around, I practically ran into a boy who was a head taller than me, with sandy brown hair tousled in front of his hazel eyes. He grinned then, pulling me into a tight hug, sighing with relief as he smelled my hair. At that moment I couldn't figure out why someone would love the smell of apple so much, but today I could understand why.
He pulled away with me still in shock. From closer up I could see he was a few years older than me. He looked as though he was nine or ten years old. He was very lanky, no muscle anywhere. No fat either. And he had high cheekbones that lifted as he smiled.
"Danny!" His voice was still quite high, but excitement laced through my name as he stared in disbelief. I felt so confused as to who this boy was. A neighbour? A school chum I hadn't taken into consideration? "Oh Danny, I'm so glad to finally meet you." At this point fear struck through me that I didn't know him. And that I never did. I started to call for my mum, but as I did his eyes widened and he ran out of the room. I sprinted after him, down the single hall and into the living room. No door was open, nor window, so I knew he couldn't have left.
But as my mum came rushing in with soil on her knees and daisies in her grip, there was no sign of him. I told her what had happened, but she laughed and told me my imagination sure was wild.
But he was real. I knew because he came again.
I wasn't as frightened, but I was still fearful of who this boy was.
As he kept coming, we would go outside into the forest surrounding the trailer and pretend to be professional archers. Or we'd play hide and go seek until the stars shone our way. Every time we'd play together, he would never come into my house when my mum was making tea or serving a meal. He told me he didn't want to intrude because she seemed like such a lovely lady. Of what I told him about her. I told my mum everything, and finally she asked his name.
"Matthew." I would say proudly.
But my mom wouldn't smile at that. Instead she would frown dubiously, turn back to the kettle or onions she would satee, Never asking about him.
We became best friends as a few years went on. We both were growing, and soon I was in middle school. My mum didn't believe that this boy existed. Every time I would promise he would come over this time, he cancelled and ran home. We made a rule not to enter each others homes, that our home would be outside. Together.
As soon as I'd get home from school I'd drop my bag and sprint out to the backyard. There on the same chopped stump would sit Matty, and we would go off on our adventures.
It became ours.
As we grew older, Matthew became quite tall. He held the same shaggy hair that he had when I first met him, and the same stunning hazel eyes. He did get more muscular, but thinly so. I became jealous of his body as mine became curvier, but he would always reassure me it looked better than fine. That it was perfect. And not to take any crap from any girl or guy.
We didn't go to the same school. His parents home schooled him, he would say. And I was fine with that. We saw each other plenty.
But whenever I would bring home some friends, I would check the stump and he wouldn't be there. He wouldn't come out when I had company, he always said how he would be intruding. Wrecking something so beautiful.
I told him he wouldn't be wrecking something beautiful because he was beautiful.
And I remember as we sat under the canopy of trees, he stared at me with a melancholy laced in his iris's. It made me sad. It made me want to know what was wrong.
But he barely spoke of himself. He would let me talk about my petty issues with guys, and grades. Eventually it became normal that we didn't talk about him.
It was like I was the main character of his book.
But as high school ended, he asked me what I would do now.
And I told him about the boy who asked me to move away with him.
And I saw the pride grow like a fire in his smile.
And I felt his love as he pulled me into his arms.
And I felt heartbroken when he pulled away
and I saw something flicker.
Him.
He stared at me expectantly.
"Danielle," He started, "I didn't want to come over, but I think I should now. I think I should."
He gripped my hands almost as though he was pleading, but without hesitation I said of course. And we went into the tiny cramped living space. And as my mum came home with dirt on her face she smiled at me and sat so close to Matty that I thought she'd sit on him. I gasped, fearful for a moment, but Matthew turned and grinned.
"Don't worry Danny."
My mum leaned over and kissed my cheek, and I realised what was happening.
She was ignoring Matty.
But, she wasn't.
She didn't see Matty.
Terror sliced through me, and I stood up suddenly, rushing myself for air.
Matthew raced out after me, grabbing my arm to stop me.
"Danny, I'm sorry!" His eyes plead, waiting for me to say something.
"What's going on Matt, what the Hell was that?" He winced at my words, but I had given him what he wanted;
my voice.
I trembled as he spoke fluidly.
"I love you and your mother so very much, Danny. You need to know that. And I am so absolutely proud of you for how far you've come." His eyes were swelling with tears. "And I'm so glad to see your bright future. Please. Please remember you have a brilliant future." Confusion shuffled through me. "Danny," He took a deep breath, "I'm your brother." I was about to speak but he cut me off, "--Danny, mum had a miscarriage before she had you. Several years before she even wanted to try again. And daddy? He left when he thought mum wouldn't get pregnant. She found out she was with you three days after daddy left." His face was faltering, "I wanted to grow up with you, so I waited here for you. you have a life Danny." I was shaking, crying with upset. Disbelief.
"Matty, no. No no no." I was shaking my head aggressively, "No! You're real, I'm touching you now!" He looked down at his hands and he smiled sadly.
"That's because you saw me when we were so young. You got used to me. I'm so sorry Danny. But I love you so incredibly much. And I am so proud of you. I want to watch you get married and have children, but I can't." Pain flashed through his eyes, "Every moment I stay longer, it hurts Danny. It hurts so much."
He was fading, in and out. I hugged him tightly, feeling the fabric of his shirt disappear through my fingers.
"Matty, oh Matty I'm so proud of you too. I never thought I could love someone as I do you. You are the most incredible person I have met, and I owe so much to you. I won't let you down, Matty. I owe you so much. So... so much." My sobs were clouding my speech, and I shut my eyes tightly.
I don't know how long I sat there, but after a while I heard the door slide open, my mum coming over and rubbing my back.
"You okay, sweetie?" I nodded numbly.
I dream of him often. And I still love him as I hold my son in my arms. I still love him as I hold the hand of my husband. I still love him.
Matthew, I regret that we didn't get to have a life together, but every time I feel a pressure on my hand I want you to know that I think of you. I think of you watching me grow up and even though I'm still so much a child, I love you no matter what. I love you Matthew.
Tuesday, 23 September 2014
The Most Important Day For Any Woman
Her hands shook.
Not slightly.
She shook so much that you could tell from the church entrance that she was terrified.
Or humiliated.
Or angry.
She sat alone, with thousands of white ruffles cascading down the marble steps.
She sat alone, gripping the bouquet of scarlet roses as though her life depended on it.
She sat alone, not bothering to wipe the blood in her hands before it destroyed her gown.
The blood from the thorns of the flowers.
The beautiful pain that enveloped her.
That cloaked her. Her face was bare, perfectly clean of makeup to show her naturally porcelain composure.
Placid.
Her soft pink lips were parted
ever so slightly.
But no sound came out.
Emptiness rang out from the crying stained glass.
Thunder shook the building, making the crosses on the wall clatter to the floor.
But she sat on the steps
waiting
ever
so
quietly.
The clock rang then, singing with the thunder.
Her body merely shook
waiting.
She could hear the marble floor's breath as the building towered over both of them.
Protecting both of them.
She brought her head up then,
staring at the large wooden doors that lay what felt a hundred feet away.
But she knew it would take mere moments to place her cold, bloodied hand on the sterling silver door handle and push out into the storm.
Never looking back.
But she waited.
She couldn't leave.
Her heart hurt.
Her heart hurt.
Her heart hurt.
A cry escaped her lips as the bouquet slipped out of her hand.
A sound that spoke so truly
as though she were giving up
and the petals crunched against the ivory
and the blood dripped into a pool
and the leaves were limp
as were her hands.
Why were they limp?
She couldn't do this.
She couldn't give up.
She brought her hands to cradle her face.
To cradle her now free flowing tears.
To make her tears become red.
With anger.
She staggered to her feet. Her bare feet.
The room spun
and she felt disorientated.
Why was she giving up?
Her feet stepped onto the roses
and she stood there
staring at the oak doors
whom seemed to be staring at her
mocking her
mocking her
mocking her.
Her eyes became sunken as she stepped slowly off the delicate petals beneath her feet.
As she stepped away from the beautiful red that was embedded in them.
As she stepped away from the altar.
As she stepped away from the storm inside of her.
The ruffles danced behind her as she took conscious steps to her exit.
Her hair kissed her shoulders as she rose her head
higher.
And as she reached to the gleaming silver
the storm suddenly filled the room.
The thundering shrieks
and water spun darts
attacked the marble floor
attacked the stone benches
and she saw his pleading eyes.
He saw her fear.
They stood there gaping at one another.
And he pulled her close, kissing the blood off her hands.
His gray eyes were damp
from the tears
he
was
now
shedding.
And her eyes were as dry
as the way
her
heart
felt
like
sandpaper.
And as though he was a stone
she couldn't break him down
to open
to speak
because he wasn't there
he wasn't there
no
he was
here
now.
With her in his arms
he was here
but her heart tugged
so solely to one feeling
in which would be to leave
to not hurt
but she couldn't pull away
from his tight embrace
his cologne filled suit
his pale damp hair
his sullen gray eyes
his eyes
made her sad
and she couldn't
pinpoint
why.
Until the echoing chill of the clock struck her mind.
The time.
The time.
Was gone.
She stiffened.
He let her go, asking if she was okay.
His soothing voice
silky
soft
against her thoughts.
But the time.
He asked again
with the head shaking response from her
and the simple phrase
"It's too late."
His eyes clouded.
Distraught filled the room
his distraught filled the room.
It filled
her heart
as she left
padding so quickly
that she could have tripped
over her
thousands of ruffles
but they were being dragged by the rain
the rain that had started to stop
and the thunder that turned to sparks
of light.
But she couldn't look back
because his sorrow
was hers
and it hurt
it hurt
so much
as though someone
was wrenching her heart
and there was a person doing that
it was her
she was hurting herself
why
she loved him
she loved him
and she left
why would she leave?
Because she loved herself too.
And she couldn't let her heart hurt anymore.
She couldn't let her head cry.
She couldn't let her feet feel heavy.
She wanted to fly.
She wanted to laugh.
She wanted to live.
And she couldn't
when her
entire self
hurt.
Not slightly.
She shook so much that you could tell from the church entrance that she was terrified.
Or humiliated.
Or angry.
She sat alone, with thousands of white ruffles cascading down the marble steps.
She sat alone, gripping the bouquet of scarlet roses as though her life depended on it.
She sat alone, not bothering to wipe the blood in her hands before it destroyed her gown.
The blood from the thorns of the flowers.
The beautiful pain that enveloped her.
That cloaked her. Her face was bare, perfectly clean of makeup to show her naturally porcelain composure.
Placid.
Her soft pink lips were parted
ever so slightly.
But no sound came out.
Emptiness rang out from the crying stained glass.
Thunder shook the building, making the crosses on the wall clatter to the floor.
But she sat on the steps
waiting
ever
so
quietly.
The clock rang then, singing with the thunder.
Her body merely shook
waiting.
She could hear the marble floor's breath as the building towered over both of them.
Protecting both of them.
She brought her head up then,
staring at the large wooden doors that lay what felt a hundred feet away.
But she knew it would take mere moments to place her cold, bloodied hand on the sterling silver door handle and push out into the storm.
Never looking back.
But she waited.
She couldn't leave.
Her heart hurt.
Her heart hurt.
Her heart hurt.
A cry escaped her lips as the bouquet slipped out of her hand.
A sound that spoke so truly
as though she were giving up
and the petals crunched against the ivory
and the blood dripped into a pool
and the leaves were limp
as were her hands.
Why were they limp?
She couldn't do this.
She couldn't give up.
She brought her hands to cradle her face.
To cradle her now free flowing tears.
To make her tears become red.
With anger.
She staggered to her feet. Her bare feet.
The room spun
and she felt disorientated.
Why was she giving up?
Her feet stepped onto the roses
and she stood there
staring at the oak doors
whom seemed to be staring at her
mocking her
mocking her
mocking her.
Her eyes became sunken as she stepped slowly off the delicate petals beneath her feet.
As she stepped away from the beautiful red that was embedded in them.
As she stepped away from the altar.
As she stepped away from the storm inside of her.
The ruffles danced behind her as she took conscious steps to her exit.
Her hair kissed her shoulders as she rose her head
higher.
And as she reached to the gleaming silver
the storm suddenly filled the room.
The thundering shrieks
and water spun darts
attacked the marble floor
attacked the stone benches
and she saw his pleading eyes.
He saw her fear.
They stood there gaping at one another.
And he pulled her close, kissing the blood off her hands.
His gray eyes were damp
from the tears
he
was
now
shedding.
And her eyes were as dry
as the way
her
heart
felt
like
sandpaper.
And as though he was a stone
she couldn't break him down
to open
to speak
because he wasn't there
he wasn't there
no
he was
here
now.
With her in his arms
he was here
but her heart tugged
so solely to one feeling
in which would be to leave
to not hurt
but she couldn't pull away
from his tight embrace
his cologne filled suit
his pale damp hair
his sullen gray eyes
his eyes
made her sad
and she couldn't
pinpoint
why.
Until the echoing chill of the clock struck her mind.
The time.
The time.
Was gone.
She stiffened.
He let her go, asking if she was okay.
His soothing voice
silky
soft
against her thoughts.
But the time.
He asked again
with the head shaking response from her
and the simple phrase
"It's too late."
His eyes clouded.
Distraught filled the room
his distraught filled the room.
It filled
her heart
as she left
padding so quickly
that she could have tripped
over her
thousands of ruffles
but they were being dragged by the rain
the rain that had started to stop
and the thunder that turned to sparks
of light.
But she couldn't look back
because his sorrow
was hers
and it hurt
it hurt
so much
as though someone
was wrenching her heart
and there was a person doing that
it was her
she was hurting herself
why
she loved him
she loved him
and she left
why would she leave?
Because she loved herself too.
And she couldn't let her heart hurt anymore.
She couldn't let her head cry.
She couldn't let her feet feel heavy.
She wanted to fly.
She wanted to laugh.
She wanted to live.
And she couldn't
when her
entire self
hurt.
Sunday, 21 September 2014
The Man With a Beautiful Soul
He tapped his hang drum wondrously
as though pulling you into Alice's world
scaring all your thoughts away
with a simple wrist twirl
tapping
and tapping
became melodic
and breathtaking
as though taking all of your worries
and not hiding them--
but letting them fall away into the breeze
the breeze that sang out his heart stopping notes.
The girl who was speaking solely to her brother
didn't stop to listen
until her brother told her to stop
and as she stopped
as did her breath
because what she heard was so uniquely lovely
that her eyes began to swell.
She offered her brother to give the man money
but he shook his head and told her to give it
and as she opened her wallet,
a darkness creaked into her
she barely had any coins to spare
and not a bill to give.
She tossed the coins she had
and told the man about his beautiful playing
and that if she had more coins
she wouldn't hesitate to give them to him.
And his smile was comforting
happy
purely joyous.
He said he wouldn't ask for more
because her thanks was all he wanted.
He then asked her for a hug
in which she didn't feel odd
he didn't feel odd
or uneasy to be around
and she couldn't pin point why she felt so soothing around this man.
So she hugged him
and they stayed there for a moment
letting the echoing notes stay in their minds
and as they pulled a part
his smile widened
when he saw the two stones draping from her neck.
He told her she was beautiful
and that her stones were so powerful.
He told her she wasn't just a beautiful person
but that she was truly beautiful.
And her throat caught
because he meant it whole heartedly
and she couldn't express anything more
as she left.
And as she left his notes rang out again
and she got back to her brother
they continued
and he asked her about the man
and she told him
about the man
with a beautiful soul.
as though pulling you into Alice's world
scaring all your thoughts away
with a simple wrist twirl
tapping
and tapping
became melodic
and breathtaking
as though taking all of your worries
and not hiding them--
but letting them fall away into the breeze
the breeze that sang out his heart stopping notes.
The girl who was speaking solely to her brother
didn't stop to listen
until her brother told her to stop
and as she stopped
as did her breath
because what she heard was so uniquely lovely
that her eyes began to swell.
She offered her brother to give the man money
but he shook his head and told her to give it
and as she opened her wallet,
a darkness creaked into her
she barely had any coins to spare
and not a bill to give.
She tossed the coins she had
and told the man about his beautiful playing
and that if she had more coins
she wouldn't hesitate to give them to him.
And his smile was comforting
happy
purely joyous.
He said he wouldn't ask for more
because her thanks was all he wanted.
He then asked her for a hug
in which she didn't feel odd
he didn't feel odd
or uneasy to be around
and she couldn't pin point why she felt so soothing around this man.
So she hugged him
and they stayed there for a moment
letting the echoing notes stay in their minds
and as they pulled a part
his smile widened
when he saw the two stones draping from her neck.
He told her she was beautiful
and that her stones were so powerful.
He told her she wasn't just a beautiful person
but that she was truly beautiful.
And her throat caught
because he meant it whole heartedly
and she couldn't express anything more
as she left.
And as she left his notes rang out again
and she got back to her brother
they continued
and he asked her about the man
and she told him
about the man
with a beautiful soul.
Sunday, 14 September 2014
Allice
Looking up into the freezing snow, her eyes slowly blinked. She stood on a jagged boulder that looked out onto the city beneath her. But she didn't make her way to the glowing lights. Instead, she made her way through the woods behind her to begin her search. She had known that she would have to look for this since she was a mere tot, and she never knew that it would be this calming to try to find it. She always imagined she would be frightened, her legs buckling. That she would be too much of a wimp to go out on her own.
To say goodbye to her loved ones.
But she never did say goodbye.
She simply said goodnight.
And then she left.
She shook her head, getting rid of the familiar smiles that her adoptive mother and father gave her.
The sun would be rising soon. They'd start making coffee in a few hours. They'd be waking her up for training in a few hours.
But she wouldn't be there to be awoke.
Hopefully she'd be long gone by then.
She shuddered at the thought of their reactions. She swallowed roughly and wiped her brow as she pictured them sending out the hounds to find her.
Her footsteps became sprints.
She couldn't go through this heartache just to be brought back.
She silently thanked the sky for snowing, hoping it would snow enough to get rid of her scent and tracks. She thought about using the trees as travel, but realised that even if she was safer, she wouldn't get very far in a few hours.
She adjusted her bag as she swiftly made her way through the trees.
After a while she found herself in front of a cliff. She swore as she collapsed in rage, pounding her gloved fists into the foot of snow.
She scanned the edges of the cliff, focused on getting across. Her heart lifted when she saw the two edges of cliffs grew closer a few kilometres to the right. She moved as fast as she could in her tired state, and she sat in the snow for a moment when she came to the close cliff edges.
"C'mon, Allice." She punched the ground with agitation for how exhausted she was.
She shakily stood up and peered to the bottom of the cliff.
Pitch black.
She swatted her thick black locks out of her face.
Allice moved to the base of a pine tree, then pushed off to gain speed for her leap of faith.
Her breath froze as she glided over the crevasse, choking her as she fumbled ungracefully into the piles of snow on the other side.
She coughed roughly into the powder, cursing when a spout of blood splattered the icy rain.
She forced herself up, falling down several times in the process.
Her breath was shallow as she continued down the snow filled field. She felt uneasy about how open the area was, but she made her way quickly.
She didn't know how she knew where she was going, but her body seemed to move her like a map and a compass.
The sun was setting as she came across the stone building she sought out.
It had runes along each side of the doorway, and without a second thought she placed her palm over the moon symbol.
Her eyes flashed ivory, blinding her vision completely. Fear shot through her as her body began moving forward by itself. She felt herself walk forward into a tight space that was quite damp.
After several moments her vision returned, but she couldn't see through the tunnel because it was pitch dark. She kept walking cautiously forward- if she was moving forward. Her equilibrium became unbalanced as she became confused as to where she was going.
The tunnel opened up suddenly, and a bright white orb floated in the centre of the room. Torched filled the walls, giving off a warm yellow glow. And as she brushed her hair out of her face, she realised it wasn't black anymore. Instead, it was a vibrant glowing opal.
She swallowed her fear and stepped closer to the orb.
She found it.
She found herself.
She stalked towards the orb carefully, afraid of what would happen.
But as she grabbed the orb, its light shot into her body sending out screams of pain as she shot into the air.
Her hair was flying around her face by forces of wind, growing out in long strands.
Her eyes glowed beautifully as her skin radiated white light.
As the scene calmed, she knew.
She knew everything about her.
Because she wasn't Allice anymore.
She never was.
She was the goddess of light, saviour of lands and creator of being.
But instead of staying in the tomb, she left.
Her light radiated constantly as she went out into the snow land.
By now, the sky had fallen dark, but still she sent out light to extreme lengths.
She shot up into the sky, meeting the moon as its grace, and she placed herself into the atmosphere.
She knew what she was doing would be helpful to all people.
She knew that this is what she had to do.
And yet, sadness filled her.
Her light became unstable, glowing at immense power.
Until, the light consumed her completely. Sending sparks of ivory throughout the entire sky.
It formed a shield around the mountains, forest and cities beyond travel.
And by the time the sparks had settled in their cloaking, Allice was no longer a being.
She was a saviour.
To say goodbye to her loved ones.
But she never did say goodbye.
She simply said goodnight.
And then she left.
She shook her head, getting rid of the familiar smiles that her adoptive mother and father gave her.
The sun would be rising soon. They'd start making coffee in a few hours. They'd be waking her up for training in a few hours.
But she wouldn't be there to be awoke.
Hopefully she'd be long gone by then.
She shuddered at the thought of their reactions. She swallowed roughly and wiped her brow as she pictured them sending out the hounds to find her.
Her footsteps became sprints.
She couldn't go through this heartache just to be brought back.
She silently thanked the sky for snowing, hoping it would snow enough to get rid of her scent and tracks. She thought about using the trees as travel, but realised that even if she was safer, she wouldn't get very far in a few hours.
She adjusted her bag as she swiftly made her way through the trees.
After a while she found herself in front of a cliff. She swore as she collapsed in rage, pounding her gloved fists into the foot of snow.
She scanned the edges of the cliff, focused on getting across. Her heart lifted when she saw the two edges of cliffs grew closer a few kilometres to the right. She moved as fast as she could in her tired state, and she sat in the snow for a moment when she came to the close cliff edges.
"C'mon, Allice." She punched the ground with agitation for how exhausted she was.
She shakily stood up and peered to the bottom of the cliff.
Pitch black.
She swatted her thick black locks out of her face.
Allice moved to the base of a pine tree, then pushed off to gain speed for her leap of faith.
Her breath froze as she glided over the crevasse, choking her as she fumbled ungracefully into the piles of snow on the other side.
She coughed roughly into the powder, cursing when a spout of blood splattered the icy rain.
She forced herself up, falling down several times in the process.
Her breath was shallow as she continued down the snow filled field. She felt uneasy about how open the area was, but she made her way quickly.
She didn't know how she knew where she was going, but her body seemed to move her like a map and a compass.
The sun was setting as she came across the stone building she sought out.
It had runes along each side of the doorway, and without a second thought she placed her palm over the moon symbol.
Her eyes flashed ivory, blinding her vision completely. Fear shot through her as her body began moving forward by itself. She felt herself walk forward into a tight space that was quite damp.
After several moments her vision returned, but she couldn't see through the tunnel because it was pitch dark. She kept walking cautiously forward- if she was moving forward. Her equilibrium became unbalanced as she became confused as to where she was going.
The tunnel opened up suddenly, and a bright white orb floated in the centre of the room. Torched filled the walls, giving off a warm yellow glow. And as she brushed her hair out of her face, she realised it wasn't black anymore. Instead, it was a vibrant glowing opal.
She swallowed her fear and stepped closer to the orb.
She found it.
She found herself.
She stalked towards the orb carefully, afraid of what would happen.
But as she grabbed the orb, its light shot into her body sending out screams of pain as she shot into the air.
Her hair was flying around her face by forces of wind, growing out in long strands.
Her eyes glowed beautifully as her skin radiated white light.
As the scene calmed, she knew.
She knew everything about her.
Because she wasn't Allice anymore.
She never was.
She was the goddess of light, saviour of lands and creator of being.
But instead of staying in the tomb, she left.
Her light radiated constantly as she went out into the snow land.
By now, the sky had fallen dark, but still she sent out light to extreme lengths.
She shot up into the sky, meeting the moon as its grace, and she placed herself into the atmosphere.
She knew what she was doing would be helpful to all people.
She knew that this is what she had to do.
And yet, sadness filled her.
Her light became unstable, glowing at immense power.
Until, the light consumed her completely. Sending sparks of ivory throughout the entire sky.
It formed a shield around the mountains, forest and cities beyond travel.
And by the time the sparks had settled in their cloaking, Allice was no longer a being.
She was a saviour.
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