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 loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Monday, 7 December 2015
Thursday, 19 November 2015
A Memory
A simple memory passed through his mind.
Where was he heading?
A hushed wind blew over the hills, and he saw his old self standing on the top of the grassy dune. His chest heaved.
That's right, he ran.
He had forgotten.
His eyes looked upon the rising sun, and the stark yellows being blown across the lightening sky.
Why did he come up here?
Insomnia?
Loneliness?
What made watching a sunrise make you feel content?
What made watching it make you feel in company?
He inhaled a chilled breath of air and pondered.
His thoughts dropped to Julie.
Wondered... where she was.
Wondered... what she was doing.
Just simply... wondered.
His eyes looked down below him, and he watched waves crash against the cliff.
His memories reached back to the last day.
She was tear stained.
Her short black hair was frizzy and unkempt.
Her red lips were puffy and quivering.
His legs were shaking.
He reached for her, but she stepped backwards.
"Get out."
He stepped forward.
It felt like she ripped his heart out.
She was angry.
This would pass.
She didn't mean it.
Another step.
He reached out again.
She screamed.
Why was she resisting?
Another step.
He felt defeated.
Why is this coming up?
Out of the blue?
Julie... Julie listen.
I didn't mean to.
He could hear the waves clearer now.
Her face.
Red lips.
Black hair.
He felt the wind as he grew closer to the ocean.
Red lips.
Black hair.
He was so close now.
Red lips.
Black hair.
He felt like he was flying.
Red lips.
Black hai-
Where was he heading?
A hushed wind blew over the hills, and he saw his old self standing on the top of the grassy dune. His chest heaved.
That's right, he ran.
He had forgotten.
His eyes looked upon the rising sun, and the stark yellows being blown across the lightening sky.
Why did he come up here?
Insomnia?
Loneliness?
What made watching a sunrise make you feel content?
What made watching it make you feel in company?
He inhaled a chilled breath of air and pondered.
His thoughts dropped to Julie.
Wondered... where she was.
Wondered... what she was doing.
Just simply... wondered.
His eyes looked down below him, and he watched waves crash against the cliff.
His memories reached back to the last day.
She was tear stained.
Her short black hair was frizzy and unkempt.
Her red lips were puffy and quivering.
His legs were shaking.
He reached for her, but she stepped backwards.
"Get out."
He stepped forward.
It felt like she ripped his heart out.
She was angry.
This would pass.
She didn't mean it.
Another step.
He reached out again.
She screamed.
Why was she resisting?
Another step.
He felt defeated.
Why is this coming up?
Out of the blue?
Julie... Julie listen.
I didn't mean to.
He could hear the waves clearer now.
Her face.
Red lips.
Black hair.
He felt the wind as he grew closer to the ocean.
Red lips.
Black hair.
He was so close now.
Red lips.
Black hair.
He felt like he was flying.
Red lips.
Black hai-
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."
Saturday, 11 April 2015
A Police Statement
"I counted to four while standing on the edge. My swimsuit wasn't like everyone else's in how every one else's was already wet from their jumps. But my trousers were still dry and I knew they were laughing at me.
I counted to five while clenching my teeth. It was a high jump, but there was water below. I knew this. I drove past this every day.
I counted to six when I heard them yelling to me from several feet back.
"Come on, Christian!" I think that was Kyle.
"Deep breath and go, Chris!" Definitely Sean.
"Don't be such a pussy!" I didn't recognize that voice, so I'm guessing it was one of the random guys that tagged along with us.
I counted to seven, wondering how I got here.
We were talking at lunch about how crazy it would be to jump off one of the cliff's near Lindell Beach when someone said it would send an incredible adrenaline rush. Then someone else piped up how you don't grow hair on your chest until you've pushed your boundaries to the extreme.
That's when Sera scolded us for talking about something so dangerous. About how we were making it seem heroic where so many people died from cliff diving; especially considering the recent deaths from a few people who jumped off the cliff's near Lindell.
I counted to eight as I began to notice how shaky I had gotten.
One of the boys-- I think it was Kyle, he said it could be a gateway to manhood or some shit- crap, sorry. But we all got pumped up about it and psyched ourselves up. About two hours later we were cramming into Kyle's van with a few guys from our class as we drove to Lindell Beach.
I counted to nine as I looked over the edge. The waves crashed against the cliff, and I couldn't see past the thick black water. I heard a bit of commotion behind me, but before I could turn I felt someone spin me around.
"Hey!" I exclaimed while trying to not tumble off the cliff. I noticed the green eyes I was looking at belonged to Sera.
"Are you seriously so stupid as to do this?" Her lips quivered a bit, and she kept fumbling to keep her brown hair from being blown into her face.
"How did you get here? You don't drive."
She laughed a bit, "Neither can you, but you managed to catch a ride too."
I looked over her shoulder and noticed how restless the guys were getting. Kyle scowled as he pointed to the cliff.
When I didn't respond she pointed behind her, "Danielle drove me up."
Just as she said Danielle, I noticed her short tan frame leaning against a vibrant, red convertible. I'm surprised I didn't hear her smacking her gum before. Then I noticed something. They were both in their swimsuits. Danielle was in a two-piece yellow one with large round sunglasses-- red of course to match her lipstick.
But when I looked back to Sera, she was wearing a simple black one-piece.
"We realize it's stupid. But, I dunno, we thought since we know CPR and stuff we could just make sure if one of you got hurt we could help." She shrugged, "Besides we're here now, and it's a bit of a drive to go back. And Danielle wanted to be around boys." She smiled at her last comment and we caught ourselves laughing at it.
I ran my hand through my hair as I turned back towards the cliff, "Well, I'm about to jump, so if I need help I won't shout up. But if you hear me shouting, don't jump after me, okay?" I grinned as she nodded.
"Just jump as far away from the cliff as you can, alright?"
I answered by putting some distance between me and the edge. I looked at her before sprinting to the edge.
I lost track of which number I had counted to, so I just let myself leap off.
And then I felt the rush as I fell through the air. My breath became the air and my face was absorbing the sunlight. My limbs were light and my hair was as soft as feathers. I had to remember to position my body properly to land so I didn't hurt myself.
And in an instant, water consumed me. I felt exhilarated as I let myself stay floating under the water. I felt like I was in another world. I felt incredible and soft and peaceful.
I slowly swan up to the surface, inhaling deeply as my lungs felt oxygen. I heard someone yelling, but I was in such a haze that I couldn't make out what they were saying. I looked up at the sky and noticed how the pale yellow light kissed the water so beautifully that it created a liquid gold. A few seagulls squealed above me and I watched in awe as their wings spread wide to take the air current against the cliff. They seemed to fly so easily. I wondered what it would be like to fly like that.
But then I realized I was just exposed to that feeling. It felt like I was flying. I want to keep flying.
Suddenly a giant splash exploded beside me, sending me into shock as to what happened.
A head full of long brown hair popped up gasping and yelling, "Christian!"
I felt my stomach drop when I recognized her.
I choked a bit on water, "Sera?"
Her eyes widened and I saw anger flow through her as she splashed me, "Christian! For God's sake, I thought you were hurt! You didn't shout up, and you said you would if you weren't hurt, and so you were making it seem like you were hurt, and I was so scared because I didn't know what to do when I would get down here because right now I can't see a way to get back up--" I started laughing. Really, really hard. "Why are you laughing? Christian. Christian!" She splashed me again.
I spoke between breaths and water, "I was in awe with everything. The jump was incredible, I was just in another world. I barely heard you yelling, and it was like every image and feeling was amplified. I'm so sorry Sera." I was laughing again. But she sank a bit in the water and moved away from me. I grew a bit solemn, "Sera?"
She went to splash me again but I grabbed her wrists, which is really awkward when you're treading water. I had to push her hands down and continue treading water. She looked at me through her eyelashes and muttered something.
"What?" I swam a bit closer.
"I said you're a jerk for making me think you were hurt!" She splashed me before I could stop her.
"Okay, you really need to stop doing that." I wiped my face. Sera glared at me and smacked her hand into the water to me, and she kept spraying the water for a good minute. Finally, she stopped, huffing a bit.
"Are you done?" I asked.
"Yes." She mumbled, looking unhappy.
"C'mon, let's head up. With how long we're taking, they might be a bit freaked too." Her face lit up a bit with hearing that we're leaving.
We swam over to the cliff and I told her if we held on and moved to the right, there'd be a pathway that some people made so it's easy to get back up.
When we got to the top again, the guys were sitting casually while Danielle was sun bathing. You could see her talking to Sean, who seemed so into the conversation that he didn't even check out her body. I gave him props. When Danielle spotted Sera, she leaped up and shimmied over to her, all the guys swooned pretty hard that I could hardly refrain my laughter.
She dramatically swept Sera up in large hug, "We were all so worried, Ser." She air kissed both her cheeks and went back down to Sean.
Kyle nodded to me, "Not so bad, eh?" He smiled, "And you got Sera to jump, so you killed two birds with one stone!" My smile felt a bit forced, but I asked anyways.
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone who's here has to jump." I felt cold suddenly.
"If they don't want to jump they don't have to." I replied. But the problem wasn't who jumped, but who hadn't. And the only person who hadn't was Danielle.
She waved her hand dismissing the idea, "Oh please, I'm not jumping. I'm tanning. See?" The patted her towel.
Kyle smirked, "Oh, if you don't want to jump that's fine, babe." I saw her clench her teeth.
"Don't call me babe." She stood up, beginning to roll up her towel, "Well, Ser, since you've had your fun and saved Mr. Dreamy, let's haul ass and get out of here." But as she kissed Sean's cheek and stood up-- leaving a bright read kiss mark, may I add-- Kyle stepped in front of her.
"Go? But you haven't made your mark yet, babe." He smiled with his bright white teeth.
I stepped up now, realizing how serious this was getting. I chuckled a bit to break the tension, "Okay, guys, if she doesn't wanna jump, she doesn't have to." I turned to Danielle, "We'll see you at school, have a nice weekend," I stepped to Sera and leaned to her ear, "And I hope to see you this weekend, maybe?" She grinned and gave me her phone to put my number in. As I was finishing it and Danielle was walking to her car, Kyle ran forward to her and picked her up.
I rushed the number, gave Sera my phone back and stopped Kyle. I noticed Sean was standing up now too.
"Kyle, put her the fuck down. What are you thinking? This isn't the time, or area to be fooling around." Sean sounded pretty scary when he was serious,
Kyle snorted, "What, you want your little girl toy back? Come get her." And with that, he sprinted to the cliff edge. Everyone was shouting now, and I felt Sera grip my arm.
Sean, with his height, easily ran to the edge and pulled Danielle out of his arms. He placed her on the ground and shoved Kyle in the chest, "What the fuck is your problem?"
Danielle slowly crawled away, shaking vehemently. I rushed to her side and helped her to sit next to Sera. Danielle had taken off her sunglasses, and you could see the fear in her blue eyes. Sera ran to the car and grabbed the towel, wrapping Danielle in it.
I heard a bloodcurdling scream from Danielle as she pointed to the cliff with her sunglasses.
I spun on my heels and saw that Kyle was standing over the edge, his back heaving from his lungs. But I didn't see Sean.
I whispered while stepping towards him, "Kyle?" His back was still rising quickly, "Kyle, where's Sean?" All the guys were in shock. But Kyle didn't turn around. I felt a gust of wind fly by me, and I saw Sera's brown hair flowing like the waves below as she jumped off the edge.
"Sera!" I was jumping before I knew what was happening, and I smashed into the water faster than a second. I broke through the water, gasping for air, and saw Sera swimming through the waves, diving, coming back up, scanning for where he could be. I dove under the water, trying to see him, but the water was so dark I couldn't see anything.
I came to the surface, and panic struck me as I couldn't see Sera anymore either. I looked up at the cliff and saw Kyle staring down intensely. I squinted my eyes because something felt off. But I went over to the path, to find Sera sitting, clutching her hands.
"Sera, it's okay, we'll find him." She shook her head.
"I can't see him if he's hurt. I know CPR, Chris, not how to save someone's life. I can go call the ambulance."
I reached for her hands and squatted in front of her, "When you go call the ambulance, please come straight down. Take the path if you need to, but when I find him I need your help to keep him conscious." I tried to smile, and she stood up nodding.
"Okay. I'll come straight down." With that, she sprinted up the path.
I hurried back to the water and saw that Kyle was still staring down. I spent about five minutes scouring the water, and diving as deep as I could go.
Then something came to my mind. When Sera came back down-- by the path-- I asked her about what the water looked like when she jumped in after me, the first time.
"The water was really choppy. But not like how they were crashing against the cliff. It was like a bulls eye." She tilted her head, "Why?" But then her eyes widened. "The water. It wasn't disturbed from Sean when I went down." She covered her mouth as tears formed in her eyes, "He never made it to the water, Chris. He never made it." She was hysterical now, sobbing into her arms. I comforted her for a moment before I had to pull away.
"I have to find him, Ser. Stay here. Breathe through your nose out through your mouth." She nodded.
When I went into the water I looked up at the cliff. There were a few spots where Sean could have fallen, but something told me it would be easy to see where he was. Because Kyle was staring at him.
It was all a blur after that.
I'm sorry. I don't remember anything other than climbing up the cliff, and having to push his body into the water. Then I had to pull it by the pathway. I had to help Sera try to help Sean. And she cried a lot. I began crying too. I had been best friends with Sean for twelve years. We used to play video games on NES when we were younger. Especially Donkey Kong. We loved DK.
I held Sera because she couldn't stop crying. So eventually we stopped trying to help Sean because he wasn't responding. He wasn't breathing. So we held each other as we waited for the ambulance.
I'm sorry officer, I can't remember anything else."
I counted to five while clenching my teeth. It was a high jump, but there was water below. I knew this. I drove past this every day.
I counted to six when I heard them yelling to me from several feet back.
"Come on, Christian!" I think that was Kyle.
"Deep breath and go, Chris!" Definitely Sean.
"Don't be such a pussy!" I didn't recognize that voice, so I'm guessing it was one of the random guys that tagged along with us.
I counted to seven, wondering how I got here.
We were talking at lunch about how crazy it would be to jump off one of the cliff's near Lindell Beach when someone said it would send an incredible adrenaline rush. Then someone else piped up how you don't grow hair on your chest until you've pushed your boundaries to the extreme.
That's when Sera scolded us for talking about something so dangerous. About how we were making it seem heroic where so many people died from cliff diving; especially considering the recent deaths from a few people who jumped off the cliff's near Lindell.
I counted to eight as I began to notice how shaky I had gotten.
One of the boys-- I think it was Kyle, he said it could be a gateway to manhood or some shit- crap, sorry. But we all got pumped up about it and psyched ourselves up. About two hours later we were cramming into Kyle's van with a few guys from our class as we drove to Lindell Beach.
I counted to nine as I looked over the edge. The waves crashed against the cliff, and I couldn't see past the thick black water. I heard a bit of commotion behind me, but before I could turn I felt someone spin me around.
"Hey!" I exclaimed while trying to not tumble off the cliff. I noticed the green eyes I was looking at belonged to Sera.
"Are you seriously so stupid as to do this?" Her lips quivered a bit, and she kept fumbling to keep her brown hair from being blown into her face.
"How did you get here? You don't drive."
She laughed a bit, "Neither can you, but you managed to catch a ride too."
I looked over her shoulder and noticed how restless the guys were getting. Kyle scowled as he pointed to the cliff.
When I didn't respond she pointed behind her, "Danielle drove me up."
Just as she said Danielle, I noticed her short tan frame leaning against a vibrant, red convertible. I'm surprised I didn't hear her smacking her gum before. Then I noticed something. They were both in their swimsuits. Danielle was in a two-piece yellow one with large round sunglasses-- red of course to match her lipstick.
But when I looked back to Sera, she was wearing a simple black one-piece.
"We realize it's stupid. But, I dunno, we thought since we know CPR and stuff we could just make sure if one of you got hurt we could help." She shrugged, "Besides we're here now, and it's a bit of a drive to go back. And Danielle wanted to be around boys." She smiled at her last comment and we caught ourselves laughing at it.
I ran my hand through my hair as I turned back towards the cliff, "Well, I'm about to jump, so if I need help I won't shout up. But if you hear me shouting, don't jump after me, okay?" I grinned as she nodded.
"Just jump as far away from the cliff as you can, alright?"
I answered by putting some distance between me and the edge. I looked at her before sprinting to the edge.
I lost track of which number I had counted to, so I just let myself leap off.
And then I felt the rush as I fell through the air. My breath became the air and my face was absorbing the sunlight. My limbs were light and my hair was as soft as feathers. I had to remember to position my body properly to land so I didn't hurt myself.
And in an instant, water consumed me. I felt exhilarated as I let myself stay floating under the water. I felt like I was in another world. I felt incredible and soft and peaceful.
I slowly swan up to the surface, inhaling deeply as my lungs felt oxygen. I heard someone yelling, but I was in such a haze that I couldn't make out what they were saying. I looked up at the sky and noticed how the pale yellow light kissed the water so beautifully that it created a liquid gold. A few seagulls squealed above me and I watched in awe as their wings spread wide to take the air current against the cliff. They seemed to fly so easily. I wondered what it would be like to fly like that.
But then I realized I was just exposed to that feeling. It felt like I was flying. I want to keep flying.
Suddenly a giant splash exploded beside me, sending me into shock as to what happened.
A head full of long brown hair popped up gasping and yelling, "Christian!"
I felt my stomach drop when I recognized her.
I choked a bit on water, "Sera?"
Her eyes widened and I saw anger flow through her as she splashed me, "Christian! For God's sake, I thought you were hurt! You didn't shout up, and you said you would if you weren't hurt, and so you were making it seem like you were hurt, and I was so scared because I didn't know what to do when I would get down here because right now I can't see a way to get back up--" I started laughing. Really, really hard. "Why are you laughing? Christian. Christian!" She splashed me again.
I spoke between breaths and water, "I was in awe with everything. The jump was incredible, I was just in another world. I barely heard you yelling, and it was like every image and feeling was amplified. I'm so sorry Sera." I was laughing again. But she sank a bit in the water and moved away from me. I grew a bit solemn, "Sera?"
She went to splash me again but I grabbed her wrists, which is really awkward when you're treading water. I had to push her hands down and continue treading water. She looked at me through her eyelashes and muttered something.
"What?" I swam a bit closer.
"I said you're a jerk for making me think you were hurt!" She splashed me before I could stop her.
"Okay, you really need to stop doing that." I wiped my face. Sera glared at me and smacked her hand into the water to me, and she kept spraying the water for a good minute. Finally, she stopped, huffing a bit.
"Are you done?" I asked.
"Yes." She mumbled, looking unhappy.
"C'mon, let's head up. With how long we're taking, they might be a bit freaked too." Her face lit up a bit with hearing that we're leaving.
We swam over to the cliff and I told her if we held on and moved to the right, there'd be a pathway that some people made so it's easy to get back up.
When we got to the top again, the guys were sitting casually while Danielle was sun bathing. You could see her talking to Sean, who seemed so into the conversation that he didn't even check out her body. I gave him props. When Danielle spotted Sera, she leaped up and shimmied over to her, all the guys swooned pretty hard that I could hardly refrain my laughter.
She dramatically swept Sera up in large hug, "We were all so worried, Ser." She air kissed both her cheeks and went back down to Sean.
Kyle nodded to me, "Not so bad, eh?" He smiled, "And you got Sera to jump, so you killed two birds with one stone!" My smile felt a bit forced, but I asked anyways.
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone who's here has to jump." I felt cold suddenly.
"If they don't want to jump they don't have to." I replied. But the problem wasn't who jumped, but who hadn't. And the only person who hadn't was Danielle.
She waved her hand dismissing the idea, "Oh please, I'm not jumping. I'm tanning. See?" The patted her towel.
Kyle smirked, "Oh, if you don't want to jump that's fine, babe." I saw her clench her teeth.
"Don't call me babe." She stood up, beginning to roll up her towel, "Well, Ser, since you've had your fun and saved Mr. Dreamy, let's haul ass and get out of here." But as she kissed Sean's cheek and stood up-- leaving a bright read kiss mark, may I add-- Kyle stepped in front of her.
"Go? But you haven't made your mark yet, babe." He smiled with his bright white teeth.
I stepped up now, realizing how serious this was getting. I chuckled a bit to break the tension, "Okay, guys, if she doesn't wanna jump, she doesn't have to." I turned to Danielle, "We'll see you at school, have a nice weekend," I stepped to Sera and leaned to her ear, "And I hope to see you this weekend, maybe?" She grinned and gave me her phone to put my number in. As I was finishing it and Danielle was walking to her car, Kyle ran forward to her and picked her up.
I rushed the number, gave Sera my phone back and stopped Kyle. I noticed Sean was standing up now too.
"Kyle, put her the fuck down. What are you thinking? This isn't the time, or area to be fooling around." Sean sounded pretty scary when he was serious,
Kyle snorted, "What, you want your little girl toy back? Come get her." And with that, he sprinted to the cliff edge. Everyone was shouting now, and I felt Sera grip my arm.
Sean, with his height, easily ran to the edge and pulled Danielle out of his arms. He placed her on the ground and shoved Kyle in the chest, "What the fuck is your problem?"
Danielle slowly crawled away, shaking vehemently. I rushed to her side and helped her to sit next to Sera. Danielle had taken off her sunglasses, and you could see the fear in her blue eyes. Sera ran to the car and grabbed the towel, wrapping Danielle in it.
I heard a bloodcurdling scream from Danielle as she pointed to the cliff with her sunglasses.
I spun on my heels and saw that Kyle was standing over the edge, his back heaving from his lungs. But I didn't see Sean.
I whispered while stepping towards him, "Kyle?" His back was still rising quickly, "Kyle, where's Sean?" All the guys were in shock. But Kyle didn't turn around. I felt a gust of wind fly by me, and I saw Sera's brown hair flowing like the waves below as she jumped off the edge.
"Sera!" I was jumping before I knew what was happening, and I smashed into the water faster than a second. I broke through the water, gasping for air, and saw Sera swimming through the waves, diving, coming back up, scanning for where he could be. I dove under the water, trying to see him, but the water was so dark I couldn't see anything.
I came to the surface, and panic struck me as I couldn't see Sera anymore either. I looked up at the cliff and saw Kyle staring down intensely. I squinted my eyes because something felt off. But I went over to the path, to find Sera sitting, clutching her hands.
"Sera, it's okay, we'll find him." She shook her head.
"I can't see him if he's hurt. I know CPR, Chris, not how to save someone's life. I can go call the ambulance."
I reached for her hands and squatted in front of her, "When you go call the ambulance, please come straight down. Take the path if you need to, but when I find him I need your help to keep him conscious." I tried to smile, and she stood up nodding.
"Okay. I'll come straight down." With that, she sprinted up the path.
I hurried back to the water and saw that Kyle was still staring down. I spent about five minutes scouring the water, and diving as deep as I could go.
Then something came to my mind. When Sera came back down-- by the path-- I asked her about what the water looked like when she jumped in after me, the first time.
"The water was really choppy. But not like how they were crashing against the cliff. It was like a bulls eye." She tilted her head, "Why?" But then her eyes widened. "The water. It wasn't disturbed from Sean when I went down." She covered her mouth as tears formed in her eyes, "He never made it to the water, Chris. He never made it." She was hysterical now, sobbing into her arms. I comforted her for a moment before I had to pull away.
"I have to find him, Ser. Stay here. Breathe through your nose out through your mouth." She nodded.
When I went into the water I looked up at the cliff. There were a few spots where Sean could have fallen, but something told me it would be easy to see where he was. Because Kyle was staring at him.
It was all a blur after that.
I'm sorry. I don't remember anything other than climbing up the cliff, and having to push his body into the water. Then I had to pull it by the pathway. I had to help Sera try to help Sean. And she cried a lot. I began crying too. I had been best friends with Sean for twelve years. We used to play video games on NES when we were younger. Especially Donkey Kong. We loved DK.
I held Sera because she couldn't stop crying. So eventually we stopped trying to help Sean because he wasn't responding. He wasn't breathing. So we held each other as we waited for the ambulance.
I'm sorry officer, I can't remember anything else."
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.
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.
Monday, 29 December 2014
To a Friend
The first time I saw my father, I was already a twenty-nine year old man with an ex wife and a daughter.
And hell, let me tell you, that wasn't no walk in the park either. It wasn't as though I strolled up to him on a sunny spring day saying, "Care for a smoke? Only the best for my paps."
Oh no. It was a bloodbath to say the least.
You see, I was adopted at a young fuckin' age. My mother died at birth, which my paps blamed me for. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame the guy, but that ain't no reason to shun out your kid like a sack of rotten Chinese food. Which is what he did. By the time I was six I was so fuckin' underweight that I literally blew away in the wind. Literally. I was out with some crack-birthed neighbour kids, and we was racin' down the block the some fanny guy's rank old yard. I chugged down that fuckin' hill like an unholy saint in a churchyard and when that wind picked up, fuck I was gone. They was howlin' though. Hell, I thought it was hilarious too.
When I was eight though, man was I fucked. And I knew it toos. See, my paps was a drinker. Hard core, always drunken drunk that was so accustomed to bein' drunk that he was always sober.
But that was no ex'use of beatin' a kid. A blood related one nonetheless. But that sore fucker did.
There was a night when I came home late-- the streetlights were on. That was m' curfew. And I had screwed the fuck up. I know that. I triggered him. Big whoop.
Or at least, I got a big whoop.
He unbuckled his belt, didn't bother spinning me around, and whipped me across my face, neck, shoulders, abdomen and thighs so many times with his fat, jiggly arms that I couldn't see anything but red on me. I couldn't see anything but red.
That night I bolted to the police station.
I was rushed to the ER of course, he was placed in handcuffs.
The drunken S.O.B wasn't upset though-- the only time he wasn't upset. He was laughing with anger.
"He's the fucken murd're! You should've seen m'girl Nancy! She was a pretty thang 'till he fucken came 'round!"
Nancy was my mother. I've only seen photos of her, but she was a pretty little thing. Short brown hair, large blue eyes. Medium build. She looked like a pixie.
My adoptive parents were sickly sweet though. They've course were them gooey type. Smilin' so big they always looked like them Asians. Fucken' Asians. They the type who sang the carols at christmas, and made you wear them stupid ugly fuckers. Y'know, the sweaters. Ughk. Ugly little fuckers.
Anyhow, as I grew up, I became bored with everything. In fact, by the time I was thirteen I sat in my new paps car with the windows up and engine on.
Of course, I got out before any damage was done.
Shame.
Fucken' shame.
Even as I grew up, I remembered that psycho. I didn't see no one, because that would've seemed weak to me. I need to emphasise it was weak to me to tell some'ne that I thought I had PTSD, because I was beaten so often when I showed even the slightest bit of weakness. It's just how my mind worked.
As the years dragged on, I was constantly bullied at school. I think I switched schools ev'ry year till highschool. That's kind of when things slowed. Because then I found art. HA. It sounds dumb of me to say, an' I know I ain't the best speaker, but art held my soul in ways I ain't ever had it held b'fore. Not the sketchy-type art, with pencil, but metal work and woodwork. I built everything I could've in those three short years. And I was fucken' glorious with 'em.
I got so many of them awards that it seemed almost like a chore to go accept 'em. Which sounds awful high 'n mighty of me, but I ain't tryin' to be.
Anyways, one of those award evenings, pro'ly in year twelve, I met this girl. It sounds so cheesy when I say this, but when I saw her it was like all the light focused in on her, and the rest of the gym was dimmed. She had this short wavy-type bob that framed her face as it seemed to meld into her skin. It was a light brown. Then her eyes, oh god. They were such a pale blue that they looked Gray. And she wasn't wearin' those tight black skirts like most of 'em other girls neither. No, she had on an elegant long sleeved dress that looked like the smoke that came out of people's chimneys.
And my god, when she was talkin' to her group of friends, she looked up under those thick light lashed and met my eyes. In an instant her cheeks grew crimson, and I felt like I won a million bucks. And then I felt like I gave all of those bucks to support fluffy bunnies who were homeless or some shit. I felt giddy.
Of course I didn't have the confidence to speak to her, so we just kind of shared glances to each other now and 'gain. It was like we already knew each other.
Next day at school she walked up to me. She said she was Lucy and that she loved my pieces I displayed the night b'fore.
And I never asked her out, we just kind of were together.
That may be the mistake we made, now that I think about it. I'd see her talkin' to some guy and I'd think she didn't like me any more.
But we loved each other.
We got married when we graduated. We had Lillian when we was a bit older though. We was twenty-four, twenty-five. But then Lucy kept gettin' sick. She had troubled with her white blood cells, so she got sick often and for long periods of time. But it got to the point where she didn't get better one day. Well I guess she did, because she wasn't sufferin' no more. Lily understood right away when I told her mama loved her, but had to be free of her pain. Lily didn't cry, she kissed my cheek with her plump scarlet lips and said sternly, "Daddy, we need to be happy that she's okay now."
Luckily she learned to speak proper b'fore Lucy passed. See, she was an English major, and she was not lettin' her baby suffer with the way I speak. I would smile, thank her, and kiss her.
She was twenty-eight when she died. Our little daughter turning five.
But something was naggin' me.
I would have nightmares about panic fillin' my chest. Then I'd wake with a sweat drenched bed. I'd fear for Lily. I'd run into her room and cradle her into my arms, and I'd fall back asleep in her bed.
I never hit Lily. If she done somethin' bad like runnin' out into the street full o' cars, I'd get upset. I'd yell at her to tell her she'd hurt herself if she did that. But I never hit her. I guess that's a lie. Sometimes, like with the car thing, if she kept doin' it, I had to spank her. No whips, no belts, but I had to get across that it was unsafe.
And I hated myself for that every day after.
I realised that I had to see my pap. I had to see where he was and know he wasn't comin' for me or Lily.
So I went to him.
I didn't mean to. I swear to God I didn't mean to.
I found where he lived. Some place in Oklahoma. I drove for a few days. I left Lily with a sitter.
I didn't want her to meet him. I didn't want him to know she existed. So I went up to the old, rotting door. And this stern looking man with white hair and a wrinkled face opened the door.
"I don't want the fucking paper, get the fuck outta here, boy." He waved his cane at me, and I ducked out of the way. Before I meant to I said,
"Jacob Merth! I'm Jacob Merth. Your son." He froze. Then a sick grin spread on his lips as he gestured inside, pulling the door open.
"Ahh.... I've been won'dren when your ass would show up."
I don't know why I went in. I shouldn't have. I know that now. But, it's too late.
All the furniture was torn at corners, and seemed clumped in places. The radio was on, but it was static, and the t.v was also on static.
He sat me down at the old wooden table and said bluntly, "Come here to apol'gize?" I felt shocked. Twenty-three years, and that's what he asks.
"What.. do you mean?"
"Apol-o-gize." His iron stare made me uneasy. Why did I come here? "For killin' my wife, and for getting me thrown in jail."
"I didn't know you went to jail. I was six and in pain. I didn't mean to kill mum, she was pregnant and I was being bor---"
His hands slammed on the table, "YOU KILLED MY FUCKING WIFE!"
It happened so quickly, he pulled a large silver gun out from under the table, and cocked it back. Suddenly I was scared for Lily. Would she be adopted now, too?
All the air breathed out of the house as we just stared at each other. And before I decided to, I jumped up and smacked the gun out of his hand. It went flying under the sofa, but as I lurched at it his cane came flying up and smacked the front of my head. I hear a crack on my face, and with the blood pouring into my mouth I think he broke my nose. He leaped onto me, grabbin' at my throat, but I stepped back against the wall, crushing him. With him loose, I scrambled for th' gun, frantically searchin' under the couch. My hand fell across the cool metal, and I pulled it out, aimed at him and shot without hesitation. The ringing in my ears dazed me, and I found I wasn't holding onto the gun an'more. I saw a thick red splatter on the wall, and his limp body crumpled by the table.
I was breathing quite shallow, and suddenly it felt like I wasn't gettin' no air, which made me panic. I got on my knees and felt vomit pour out of my mouth, onto his worn wooden floor. The realization that Lily wasn't going to have a father any more hurt more than an'thin' I could imagine. It hurt more than losin' Lucy. But I was going to jail. I couldn't cover this up, go home an' act like nothin' was wrong no more, because ev'ry thin' was wrong now. My conscious was wrong now.
I found the gun a few feet away, I think I tossed it out of my hands, makin' it seem like I ain't the one who shot him. But it was me.
I lifted the gun and opened my blood filled mouth, placing the hot end in between my teeth. I love you, Lucy, Lily. Please forgi------------------
And hell, let me tell you, that wasn't no walk in the park either. It wasn't as though I strolled up to him on a sunny spring day saying, "Care for a smoke? Only the best for my paps."
Oh no. It was a bloodbath to say the least.
You see, I was adopted at a young fuckin' age. My mother died at birth, which my paps blamed me for. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame the guy, but that ain't no reason to shun out your kid like a sack of rotten Chinese food. Which is what he did. By the time I was six I was so fuckin' underweight that I literally blew away in the wind. Literally. I was out with some crack-birthed neighbour kids, and we was racin' down the block the some fanny guy's rank old yard. I chugged down that fuckin' hill like an unholy saint in a churchyard and when that wind picked up, fuck I was gone. They was howlin' though. Hell, I thought it was hilarious too.
When I was eight though, man was I fucked. And I knew it toos. See, my paps was a drinker. Hard core, always drunken drunk that was so accustomed to bein' drunk that he was always sober.
But that was no ex'use of beatin' a kid. A blood related one nonetheless. But that sore fucker did.
There was a night when I came home late-- the streetlights were on. That was m' curfew. And I had screwed the fuck up. I know that. I triggered him. Big whoop.
Or at least, I got a big whoop.
He unbuckled his belt, didn't bother spinning me around, and whipped me across my face, neck, shoulders, abdomen and thighs so many times with his fat, jiggly arms that I couldn't see anything but red on me. I couldn't see anything but red.
That night I bolted to the police station.
I was rushed to the ER of course, he was placed in handcuffs.
The drunken S.O.B wasn't upset though-- the only time he wasn't upset. He was laughing with anger.
"He's the fucken murd're! You should've seen m'girl Nancy! She was a pretty thang 'till he fucken came 'round!"
Nancy was my mother. I've only seen photos of her, but she was a pretty little thing. Short brown hair, large blue eyes. Medium build. She looked like a pixie.
My adoptive parents were sickly sweet though. They've course were them gooey type. Smilin' so big they always looked like them Asians. Fucken' Asians. They the type who sang the carols at christmas, and made you wear them stupid ugly fuckers. Y'know, the sweaters. Ughk. Ugly little fuckers.
Anyhow, as I grew up, I became bored with everything. In fact, by the time I was thirteen I sat in my new paps car with the windows up and engine on.
Of course, I got out before any damage was done.
Shame.
Fucken' shame.
Even as I grew up, I remembered that psycho. I didn't see no one, because that would've seemed weak to me. I need to emphasise it was weak to me to tell some'ne that I thought I had PTSD, because I was beaten so often when I showed even the slightest bit of weakness. It's just how my mind worked.
As the years dragged on, I was constantly bullied at school. I think I switched schools ev'ry year till highschool. That's kind of when things slowed. Because then I found art. HA. It sounds dumb of me to say, an' I know I ain't the best speaker, but art held my soul in ways I ain't ever had it held b'fore. Not the sketchy-type art, with pencil, but metal work and woodwork. I built everything I could've in those three short years. And I was fucken' glorious with 'em.
I got so many of them awards that it seemed almost like a chore to go accept 'em. Which sounds awful high 'n mighty of me, but I ain't tryin' to be.
Anyways, one of those award evenings, pro'ly in year twelve, I met this girl. It sounds so cheesy when I say this, but when I saw her it was like all the light focused in on her, and the rest of the gym was dimmed. She had this short wavy-type bob that framed her face as it seemed to meld into her skin. It was a light brown. Then her eyes, oh god. They were such a pale blue that they looked Gray. And she wasn't wearin' those tight black skirts like most of 'em other girls neither. No, she had on an elegant long sleeved dress that looked like the smoke that came out of people's chimneys.
And my god, when she was talkin' to her group of friends, she looked up under those thick light lashed and met my eyes. In an instant her cheeks grew crimson, and I felt like I won a million bucks. And then I felt like I gave all of those bucks to support fluffy bunnies who were homeless or some shit. I felt giddy.
Of course I didn't have the confidence to speak to her, so we just kind of shared glances to each other now and 'gain. It was like we already knew each other.
Next day at school she walked up to me. She said she was Lucy and that she loved my pieces I displayed the night b'fore.
And I never asked her out, we just kind of were together.
That may be the mistake we made, now that I think about it. I'd see her talkin' to some guy and I'd think she didn't like me any more.
But we loved each other.
We got married when we graduated. We had Lillian when we was a bit older though. We was twenty-four, twenty-five. But then Lucy kept gettin' sick. She had troubled with her white blood cells, so she got sick often and for long periods of time. But it got to the point where she didn't get better one day. Well I guess she did, because she wasn't sufferin' no more. Lily understood right away when I told her mama loved her, but had to be free of her pain. Lily didn't cry, she kissed my cheek with her plump scarlet lips and said sternly, "Daddy, we need to be happy that she's okay now."
Luckily she learned to speak proper b'fore Lucy passed. See, she was an English major, and she was not lettin' her baby suffer with the way I speak. I would smile, thank her, and kiss her.
She was twenty-eight when she died. Our little daughter turning five.
But something was naggin' me.
I would have nightmares about panic fillin' my chest. Then I'd wake with a sweat drenched bed. I'd fear for Lily. I'd run into her room and cradle her into my arms, and I'd fall back asleep in her bed.
I never hit Lily. If she done somethin' bad like runnin' out into the street full o' cars, I'd get upset. I'd yell at her to tell her she'd hurt herself if she did that. But I never hit her. I guess that's a lie. Sometimes, like with the car thing, if she kept doin' it, I had to spank her. No whips, no belts, but I had to get across that it was unsafe.
And I hated myself for that every day after.
I realised that I had to see my pap. I had to see where he was and know he wasn't comin' for me or Lily.
So I went to him.
I didn't mean to. I swear to God I didn't mean to.
I found where he lived. Some place in Oklahoma. I drove for a few days. I left Lily with a sitter.
I didn't want her to meet him. I didn't want him to know she existed. So I went up to the old, rotting door. And this stern looking man with white hair and a wrinkled face opened the door.
"I don't want the fucking paper, get the fuck outta here, boy." He waved his cane at me, and I ducked out of the way. Before I meant to I said,
"Jacob Merth! I'm Jacob Merth. Your son." He froze. Then a sick grin spread on his lips as he gestured inside, pulling the door open.
"Ahh.... I've been won'dren when your ass would show up."
I don't know why I went in. I shouldn't have. I know that now. But, it's too late.
All the furniture was torn at corners, and seemed clumped in places. The radio was on, but it was static, and the t.v was also on static.
He sat me down at the old wooden table and said bluntly, "Come here to apol'gize?" I felt shocked. Twenty-three years, and that's what he asks.
"What.. do you mean?"
"Apol-o-gize." His iron stare made me uneasy. Why did I come here? "For killin' my wife, and for getting me thrown in jail."
"I didn't know you went to jail. I was six and in pain. I didn't mean to kill mum, she was pregnant and I was being bor---"
His hands slammed on the table, "YOU KILLED MY FUCKING WIFE!"
It happened so quickly, he pulled a large silver gun out from under the table, and cocked it back. Suddenly I was scared for Lily. Would she be adopted now, too?
All the air breathed out of the house as we just stared at each other. And before I decided to, I jumped up and smacked the gun out of his hand. It went flying under the sofa, but as I lurched at it his cane came flying up and smacked the front of my head. I hear a crack on my face, and with the blood pouring into my mouth I think he broke my nose. He leaped onto me, grabbin' at my throat, but I stepped back against the wall, crushing him. With him loose, I scrambled for th' gun, frantically searchin' under the couch. My hand fell across the cool metal, and I pulled it out, aimed at him and shot without hesitation. The ringing in my ears dazed me, and I found I wasn't holding onto the gun an'more. I saw a thick red splatter on the wall, and his limp body crumpled by the table.
I was breathing quite shallow, and suddenly it felt like I wasn't gettin' no air, which made me panic. I got on my knees and felt vomit pour out of my mouth, onto his worn wooden floor. The realization that Lily wasn't going to have a father any more hurt more than an'thin' I could imagine. It hurt more than losin' Lucy. But I was going to jail. I couldn't cover this up, go home an' act like nothin' was wrong no more, because ev'ry thin' was wrong now. My conscious was wrong now.
I found the gun a few feet away, I think I tossed it out of my hands, makin' it seem like I ain't the one who shot him. But it was me.
I lifted the gun and opened my blood filled mouth, placing the hot end in between my teeth. I love you, Lucy, Lily. Please forgi------------------
Saturday, 18 October 2014
Another Secret
She walked down the dim road, arm wrapped around the girl whom she was best of friends with.
Her friend held her waist, and they laughed about nothing as the last light shut its eyes.
As they walked, they spoke about the future. They spoke about the past.
And in a moment, the light from both of their eyes became solemn, and the girl let her arm drop off of her friends shoulders.
She tied her long curly red hair up into a bun, looking at her friend's deep brown eyes.
"Is it okay, that I don't tell you everything Sammy?"
Sammy brushed her black hair away from her face, letting the brisk air lick her cheeks pink.
After a few minutes, she nodded once. "I hope you don't tell me everything. Because if you did, you wouldn't have anything that was truly yours."
The red haired girl felt a wave of sadness slam into her gut, and she decided to simply sit on the cold cement sidewalk.
"I don't feel like anything is truly mine anyways." She sighed.
Sammy sat down across from her, bringing her gaze to her friend's. "You do. It may not seem like it, but you do. All the feelings you get when you see the boy you fancy? That's yours. The inhaling of icy air when you run? Yours. And the way you smile when you remember something that made you happy? Absolutely yours. Cris, you have so much that's yours."
Cris allowed doubt to cloud her eyes.
"It just seems that whatever I want doesn't matter. A tattoo? My mom promised it a year ago, it never happened and now she's getting one. My friend got one before me when I have been wanting one for seven years." She punched the ground, "Seven years, Sam." Her hands clenched into fists.
Sammy fiddled her hands, unknowing what to say.
"Your hair is unique." Sam ran her hand through Cris's icy red hair, pulling it out of the bun.
"It does nothing anymore." She brushed away her hand.
"Your eyes are stunning." Sammy was sounding exasperated now.
"They make me look placid." Cris snapped back.
Sammy stood up, ruffling her own hair. "Your clothes are so different and beautiful compared to others."
Cris stood up too, crossing her arms. "That doesn't mean anything. Everything I wear is baggy and black. I look like a murderer, but I can't wear other clothes that girls wear! Like crop tops, or skirts or dresses or shit like that!" Tears were pooling in her pale blue eyes now.
Sammy screamed now, shoving her friend's shoulders, "Well I can't tell you things you want to hear until you feel better, because you won't Cris! People can tell you you're beautiful, it doesn't make a difference! People can tell you you're talented in art, it won't help you feel better! I can't do that for you! I can't help, even though I wish I could! Do you think I like seeing you so sad that you can't hold conversations well? That you can't eat in front of people without feeling fat? That you can't stop comparing yourself to other people? I can't help that!" Sammy was sobbing now, "I can't help that."
Sammy hugged Cris tightly, crying into her shoulder.
Cris didn't speak.
Sammy whispered in her ear, "That's what you need to do. Somehow. Remember the little things that are yours. That make you happy. That will help. You can help you."
They were silent for a long time. Letting the cool air wrap around them.
Letting them give themselves each another moment that was truly theirs.
Her friend held her waist, and they laughed about nothing as the last light shut its eyes.
As they walked, they spoke about the future. They spoke about the past.
And in a moment, the light from both of their eyes became solemn, and the girl let her arm drop off of her friends shoulders.
She tied her long curly red hair up into a bun, looking at her friend's deep brown eyes.
"Is it okay, that I don't tell you everything Sammy?"
Sammy brushed her black hair away from her face, letting the brisk air lick her cheeks pink.
After a few minutes, she nodded once. "I hope you don't tell me everything. Because if you did, you wouldn't have anything that was truly yours."
The red haired girl felt a wave of sadness slam into her gut, and she decided to simply sit on the cold cement sidewalk.
"I don't feel like anything is truly mine anyways." She sighed.
Sammy sat down across from her, bringing her gaze to her friend's. "You do. It may not seem like it, but you do. All the feelings you get when you see the boy you fancy? That's yours. The inhaling of icy air when you run? Yours. And the way you smile when you remember something that made you happy? Absolutely yours. Cris, you have so much that's yours."
Cris allowed doubt to cloud her eyes.
"It just seems that whatever I want doesn't matter. A tattoo? My mom promised it a year ago, it never happened and now she's getting one. My friend got one before me when I have been wanting one for seven years." She punched the ground, "Seven years, Sam." Her hands clenched into fists.
Sammy fiddled her hands, unknowing what to say.
"Your hair is unique." Sam ran her hand through Cris's icy red hair, pulling it out of the bun.
"It does nothing anymore." She brushed away her hand.
"Your eyes are stunning." Sammy was sounding exasperated now.
"They make me look placid." Cris snapped back.
Sammy stood up, ruffling her own hair. "Your clothes are so different and beautiful compared to others."
Cris stood up too, crossing her arms. "That doesn't mean anything. Everything I wear is baggy and black. I look like a murderer, but I can't wear other clothes that girls wear! Like crop tops, or skirts or dresses or shit like that!" Tears were pooling in her pale blue eyes now.
Sammy screamed now, shoving her friend's shoulders, "Well I can't tell you things you want to hear until you feel better, because you won't Cris! People can tell you you're beautiful, it doesn't make a difference! People can tell you you're talented in art, it won't help you feel better! I can't do that for you! I can't help, even though I wish I could! Do you think I like seeing you so sad that you can't hold conversations well? That you can't eat in front of people without feeling fat? That you can't stop comparing yourself to other people? I can't help that!" Sammy was sobbing now, "I can't help that."
Sammy hugged Cris tightly, crying into her shoulder.
Cris didn't speak.
Sammy whispered in her ear, "That's what you need to do. Somehow. Remember the little things that are yours. That make you happy. That will help. You can help you."
They were silent for a long time. Letting the cool air wrap around them.
Letting them give themselves each another moment that was truly theirs.
Friday, 3 October 2014
Their eyes were battling each other, the rage sent waves around the empty room,
with nothing in it except packed boxes.
He came home when she wasn't finished packing.
When she wasn't finished saying goodbye.
And he stared at her with anger flowing through his veins, "You've had enough time. Get out. Now."
He flicked his white cuffed wrist to the elevator door, venom dripping from his mouth
like a savage dog.
And she stared at him with disdain, tears flowing freely as her mumbled words made her sound as worthless as she felt. "I'm not ready yet."
This time he began shouting, feeling his heart welting with the frustration that filled his heart
every day
for the past
few
weeks.
"I don't want to see you, Anna! Get the fuck out, now!" He stepped closer to her now, taking in the deep brown hair. Instead of it being neatly pinned back, it was now wavy and full of frizz. Her once full eyes were empty and heartless. He felt heartless too.
She gripped the edge of one of the boxes, sputtering, "Please, I can't go yet. How do you know--"
He gripped her arm, dragging her to the elevator door. And with the press of the button, the elevator slowly drifted up to the suite.
She cried out, falling against him. Feeling deflated.
And he held this woman.
The woman who he felt in love with for the past seven years.
The woman who showed him the world.
Who showed him love.
True.
Love.
He held this woman, feeling her embrace one last time, before she would drift off like the ocean. Being free. Truly free.
She looked up at him, her hollow green eyes meeting his with heartbreak.
And he brushed his fingers down her face so gently,
she could've mistaken it for rain.
And then he tugged his finger against her lip, ever so slightly.
"But," her voice was hoarse, "How do you know when it's love?"
His eyes widened, with reality.
What was love?
Was this terror of a relationship not real?
A facade?
Her pleading eyes bore into his.
But his anger still boiled.
Her rage was still inflamed.
As so when the elevator dinged, he moved Anna into the metal box. And left before she could watch him as the doors shut.
And he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
And took it as a shot.
And as he curled up in bed
his face was burning hot
from the tears that stained his cheeks
and the pain from the weeks
he was now being torn
from what she said
about the confusion
how love felt dead
and when he woke
he had some gin
mumbling what she spoke
the chance of sleep was slim
each day carried out
little shut eye
many tears
one day
he couldn't try
so he took some pills
and lay his head
after downing some whiskey
his limbs like lead
and he wrote
I quote
"My dearest Anna,
love
is a fanatical word
because people have assumed
that it can sum up a mess
of emotions
but
do not use it in vain
do not
utter it
with uncertainty
I love you
and when I say love
I mean
you make my heart stop
when you look at me
even if you don't
it feels as though I'll vomit
and my shakiness is terrible
and won't stop for hours
even when
you're long
gone.
And I love you
because
when your name is said
my stomach
it flutters
but the problem is
I love you
to the point
where
it
physically
hurts
when I'm not around you
and when you see me
but don't speak to me
I'm getting torn a part inside
and I pray you don't see my corpse
lifeless
loveless
but
I need you to see this
because I was
angry
I still am
but it wasn't with you
it was with my pain capacity
I was broken
I am broken
and I
can't
be
fixed
because
I'll just crumble again
and Oh, Anna
dream well
live well
live free
of strain
and sadness
and anger
and restlessness
watch the ocean
I see it in your eyes
watch the ocean.
With more emotion than you could possibly comprehend,
yours,
but not yours,
Evan James Parker."
with nothing in it except packed boxes.
He came home when she wasn't finished packing.
When she wasn't finished saying goodbye.
And he stared at her with anger flowing through his veins, "You've had enough time. Get out. Now."
He flicked his white cuffed wrist to the elevator door, venom dripping from his mouth
like a savage dog.
And she stared at him with disdain, tears flowing freely as her mumbled words made her sound as worthless as she felt. "I'm not ready yet."
This time he began shouting, feeling his heart welting with the frustration that filled his heart
every day
for the past
few
weeks.
"I don't want to see you, Anna! Get the fuck out, now!" He stepped closer to her now, taking in the deep brown hair. Instead of it being neatly pinned back, it was now wavy and full of frizz. Her once full eyes were empty and heartless. He felt heartless too.
She gripped the edge of one of the boxes, sputtering, "Please, I can't go yet. How do you know--"
He gripped her arm, dragging her to the elevator door. And with the press of the button, the elevator slowly drifted up to the suite.
She cried out, falling against him. Feeling deflated.
And he held this woman.
The woman who he felt in love with for the past seven years.
The woman who showed him the world.
Who showed him love.
True.
Love.
He held this woman, feeling her embrace one last time, before she would drift off like the ocean. Being free. Truly free.
She looked up at him, her hollow green eyes meeting his with heartbreak.
And he brushed his fingers down her face so gently,
she could've mistaken it for rain.
And then he tugged his finger against her lip, ever so slightly.
"But," her voice was hoarse, "How do you know when it's love?"
His eyes widened, with reality.
What was love?
Was this terror of a relationship not real?
A facade?
Her pleading eyes bore into his.
But his anger still boiled.
Her rage was still inflamed.
As so when the elevator dinged, he moved Anna into the metal box. And left before she could watch him as the doors shut.
And he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
And took it as a shot.
And as he curled up in bed
his face was burning hot
from the tears that stained his cheeks
and the pain from the weeks
he was now being torn
from what she said
about the confusion
how love felt dead
and when he woke
he had some gin
mumbling what she spoke
the chance of sleep was slim
each day carried out
little shut eye
many tears
one day
he couldn't try
so he took some pills
and lay his head
after downing some whiskey
his limbs like lead
and he wrote
I quote
"My dearest Anna,
love
is a fanatical word
because people have assumed
that it can sum up a mess
of emotions
but
do not use it in vain
do not
utter it
with uncertainty
I love you
and when I say love
I mean
you make my heart stop
when you look at me
even if you don't
it feels as though I'll vomit
and my shakiness is terrible
and won't stop for hours
even when
you're long
gone.
And I love you
because
when your name is said
my stomach
it flutters
but the problem is
I love you
to the point
where
it
physically
hurts
when I'm not around you
and when you see me
but don't speak to me
I'm getting torn a part inside
and I pray you don't see my corpse
lifeless
loveless
but
I need you to see this
because I was
angry
I still am
but it wasn't with you
it was with my pain capacity
I was broken
I am broken
and I
can't
be
fixed
because
I'll just crumble again
and Oh, Anna
dream well
live well
live free
of strain
and sadness
and anger
and restlessness
watch the ocean
I see it in your eyes
watch the ocean.
With more emotion than you could possibly comprehend,
yours,
but not yours,
Evan James Parker."
Thursday, 25 September 2014
To a Pessimist
Her ashy
ringlets bobbed as she skipped her tiny legs across the sidewalk. Her little hands gripped the cottony rose
bag that held her school kits. As she
made her way by each brown house with the same muddy windows and deceased
grass, she hummed the new nursery rhyme she learned in school. She stepped on cue to each syllable,
giggling when she came across the tricky beat scheme. Her bright emerald eyes scanned the sky,
chasing the birds that glided through the air.
She gazed at the planes that carried hundreds of people, hoping each one
of them felt like a bird.
Her thoughts walked home with her, until
she reached the large wooden door with a brittle wreathe that hung melancholy. But her humming didn’t cease as she stepped
through the door. She slid off her
small black dress shoes, tucking them safely by the door. She turned, taking in the dust filled
cabinets and sheet of cat hair bunched throughout the laminate floor. Although she barely blinked as she hobbled
into the kitchen. Pots and filthy dishes
filled the sink and counter tops, mold brewed in a stale pot of tea, broken
glass was dotting the floor and the fridge was bare. All except for a rotten apple.
Her feet danced over the glass as she
pulled down an old box of cereal, popping a few dry pieces in her slim
lips. She spun into the living room,
holding her box of cereal affectionately as she sighed into the fraying, worn
couch. She sat there for a bit, listening
to the dead clock that hung on the wall.
The big hand stuck on three. She
imagined the clock ticking joyously, greeting her with every click. She crunched the cereal melodically, humming
as she kicked her feet. Her eyes
scraped the pattern on the curtains before her.
The damaged material wasn’t as pink as it used to be, instead a creamy
yellow filled the shades. She placed the
box on the floor of the couch and leapt to the stereo. She adjusted the antenna, flipping it to the
current eighties mix. She twirled and
jumped, sang and belted her heart out to Michael Jackson. But as she jumped against the ground, the
stereo silenced. Her cheeks flushed as
she attempted to fix it, but she simply pulled out her homework when it became
clear that the technology was fried.
Slight creaking sounded from the wooden
staircase, and she pulled herself to her feet as she padded to the base of the
stairs. A woman who looked older than
she was placed her frail hands against the railing. Her sunken green eyes met the little girl’s,
and a shaky smile formed on her mouth.
“Lynn dear, how was your day?” Her legs shook as she stepped down, but she
pulled the child into a weak hug. Lynn
smiled widely, pulling the woman’s hand to lead her excitingly into the living
room.
“Oh, mama I learned a new song today! And little Jimmy—the one down the road, he
tore my music sheet into confetti.” The
woman’s smile grew sad, but Lynn continued, “But don’t worry, mama. I used the confetti to throw into the
air. Everyone was having so much fun
with the tiny bits of paper that they tore theirs up too.” Her tiny lungs exhaled, waiting for the
woman’s response.
Her bony legs moved to the couch, as she
sat down the couch sunk with her. She
patted the cushion next to her, “Lynn that was terrible what that boy did. He ruined your song and didn’t apologize for
it.”
“But he did-“
“How could you know he meant it? No one means anything now a day. They’re all just a bunch of liars.” The woman pulled her fingers lovingly through
Lynn’s curls.
Lynn chuckled as she poked the woman’s
ribs. Her mother frowned
thoughtfully. They sat there with Lynn’s
head in her lap as the woman stared at the ragged curtains. Finally her mother spoke.
“Sweetie, I spoke to the doctor’s
today.”
Lynn jumped up with joy, twirling off the
couch. Her mother’s lips didn’t twitch
though.
“They told me I’m getting worse. We are going to have to find you a foster
home soon.” Lynn tilted her head.
“But did they tell you when you’d be at
your worst?” As her mother shook her
head Lynn gripped her hand affectionately, “It’s okay then mama, because we
still have time.” Her mother dropped
her head, the room filled with echoed sobs.
But Lynn still gripped her hand tightly, “Mama.” She spoke firmly, “I know you’re dying. I know we won’t be together for much longer,
but with the time we do have… we can
make everything special.” Her eyes
glowed as her mother raised her head to look at Lynn. Her face was solemn. The wrinkles creased around her eyes and
mouth as she parted her cracked lips. Lynn’s mother took in her daughter. She furrowed her eyebrows as Lynn watched her
curiously. Usually when her mother
spoke, she couldn’t stop listing off everything negative. She expected her mother to say something
about there not being a point to do anything if she was about to die
anyways. But instead, her mother lifted
herself slowly off the couch, her legs shaking with all the effort. She shuffled down the hallway, her feet never
fully leaving the cold ground. Finally,
she reached the door. With all her
strength she pulled the door open. She
lifted the wreath carefully, allowing no more pines to break off. As she turned back into the house, her eyes
caught Lynn’s. Lynn watched her mother
move more than she had in the past six months.
She watched her mother limp into the kitchen, open the garbage bin and
place the wreath in it thoughtfully.
And then she smiled at Lynn. Ever so slightly.
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