I learnt something last night. Whenever you feel sleepy or angry or sad or in any emotion that has a counter effect on your attitude, just stay silent and don't do anything. Because the probability of you doing something stupid tends to one, that is, an inevitable event. 'Party Tricks' was not supposed to be published. It was just the rumblings of a mad mind. I feel terrible that I wrote it and worse, published it. And I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience.

But as everything has two sides, it helped me meet a new group of people. And I consider myself lucky for that, very lucky. Please regard that article to be a part of the horrible mood swings in a teenager. Sorry, all.

Immunity. That’s a funny word. It gives the impression that there are absolutely no effects on those who have it, those who have been handpicked by fortune and nature. It didn’t take me long, though, to realize being immune doesn’t mean freedom. It doesn’t mean impunity.

It doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt.

I stand up from the plot of grass where I’m kneeling beside my sister’s gravestone and wipe the tears from my eyes. A chill runs through my body as a breeze hits me, a bitter gust laced with the hints of a snowstorm brewing in the distance. I push my wild hair out of my eyes back behind my ear and look down the line of grave markers; there are my two brothers beside my sister, my mother beside them, my grandparents in another area of the graveyard.

My six month old daughter.

I didn’t even have enough money for a proper casket for her.

The anger surges through my veins, turning my blood to ice and making the cold November air even more intolerable. Didn’t they say children were safe? Wasn’t the plague supposed to pass by the innocent? How could my whole family be so susceptible, so ravaged by this disease, and I be so unaffected?

The doctors called it some sort of superbug, something that’s evolved far beyond our current capacity to understand. Then they studied me, and they called me an unholy incubator for the next generation of human-borne viruses. They tried to quarantine me and force me to stay in some padded, plastic bubble room, but I couldn’t let them do that. They told me I’m a danger to the public and to the people I come in contact with.

Well, that much I’m counting on.

I turn from the gravestone marked Lillian Mitchell: March 23rd, 2020 - September 17th, 2020 and make my way slowly back to my car. Well, not my car. I’m...borrowing it. The owners wouldn’t want it back anyways, not if they knew the Angel of Death had occupied it. I’m doing them a favor by keeping it.

I had to sell my own car a while ago; with all the hospital payments I was making, I had to sell pretty much everything that wasn’t nailed down, and even then I didn’t have enough money to pay the rent. My landlord ignored my pleas to wait for the life insurance money to come in, and kicked he kicked me out. Wouldn’t even give me my deposit back.

Didn’t matter anyways—the insurance money never came. The agent said there was nothing they could do because it was an Act of God, whatever the hell that means. There’s no way this disease is an act of any god I know. If infecting people and getting them killed mere days later is god-like, then I’m about to become a deity.

~

I step into the property management offices of my old complex and make my way to the office of Mr. Nate Euler. He’s sitting behind a nice looking desk decorated by an arsenal of degrees, licenses, and training certificates—the prideful sack of crap. It’s not like he’s a university professor or anything.

He turns around when I come in and rushes to put on a mask. The mask has crudely designed comic characters printed all over it; it looks like he cut out his pajamas or something to make it. I laugh internally. The fabric won’t stop anything—it didn’t with my family.

“Ms. Mitchell, I didn’t realize you’d be here. If your looking for the garbage you left behind in your apartment, I had to toss it—”

“Oh no,” I say with the most fraudulent smile I can muster. “I appreciate you taking care of that for me. I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain recently.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he says with a scornful chuckle, though I sense him lowering his defenses. Good.

“Well,” I say, brushing my hair back with a sideways smile, a smile hidden by my own mask, of course, “I know you have a rough job and it’s been hard dealing with all the crazy cases this year. I’m sure it’s been wearing on you.”

He shrugs and sits back in his seat, his ego apparent in the way he moves.

“Yeah, for sure. It’s not as easy as you think, all the idiots I have to deal with. Whole world is going down the crapper, if you ask me. It’s probably better that your family isn’t here to see it.”

I suppress the fury that’s beating against my chest and force my eyes to maintain their indifferent look. It almost makes me throw-up to continue with what I have to say next.

“Anyways, I just wanted to say thanks for helping me through the moving-out process. If you’re free Friday next week, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Mr. Euler widens his eyes in surprise and rolls himself in his seat closer to me.

“Well I can’t say no to that, can I?”

I grin, hoping my eyes portray benevolence rather than the burning spitefulness that’s consuming every cell of my body.

“I should hope you wouldn’t,” I say, leaning forward so close that I can see the individual blackheads on his nose. I pull my mask down and place a gentle kiss on the round, exposed part of his upper cheek, then take a flower from my bag and leave it on his desk. He doesn’t know it yet, but he won’t even make it to next week. I’ve given him much more than just that flower, a million-strong army that’s just invaded his body.

I turn to leave the room but give his desk one last look, at the pinkish flower resting by one of his trophies. It’s a shame to leave something so beautiful so close to this disgusting man. He definitely doesn’t deserve it, but I want it to be the last thing he sees before he dies. I want him to remember what brought him to Hell’s gates.

It’s a lily.

I’ve got a dozen more in my car.

There lives one lady, whom I had never seen,

In the second floor, where I had never been

And every morning and every evening,

I heard her beautiful voice sing.

I had always wanted to meet her, but I felt rather shy,

And all my plans to meet her, ended up in a sigh.

I wished I could hear her all day and everyday,

And days and months rolled away till it finally turned to be May.

I couldn’t wait any longer,

All I wanted was to meet her

So I climbed to the second floor, where I had never been,

Wishing to see the lady, whom I had never seen.

There I saw this woman deaf and blind,

Singing aloud those words that came out from her heart and mind

She is the lady, the lady who sings,

And that’s how I met this lady with whom I exchanged rings.

As much as I would love to say, heart, his literary brother brain prevents me from doing so. Well, biologically, he is right. So, I am helpless. The heart is an organ which pumps blood throughout thy body, says Google.

Love. It’s the purest emotion. And I am still unclear on the word choice right there. Why is it pure? Why can’t it be the most beautiful one? Why can’t it be the most emotional one? I am finding it extremely difficult to adjust with pure.

Well, as a Science student, let me consider the scientific aspect of pure. A pure substance is something that contains only one type of particles, again says Google. And upon derivating, we can conclude that it might not hold anything else but love. No hatred. No anger. No distress. No sadness. Nothing else but love. Now that makes some sense.

But now, as a human, let me consider the experience side of love. I have found most of my friends to be lovers. Yes, I am a teenager. And quite wonderfully, I found a mixture of emotions in every one of them. So, Science seems to collide with Psychology here. Now, this is taking forever. So let’s try to conclude, shall we not?

So, we have considered various aspects of love. And each one of those gave us different answers. So, let’s conclude that love is related to a very famous expression in Mathematics. It is not defined. More correctly, it is for you to find.

#nonfiction #opinion

It was summer. I was working in a field under a deep blue sky with my

humble home in a dead log a few yards behind me. The grass stretched far

into the distance and a river snaked through this paradise. My hand

would have brushed the grass as I walked if not for the grass avoiding

my hand.

I carried a small notebook with me at the time. Then it was barely

filled. I had just started noting the dying things around me, at first

to bide my time, but later I recorded to remember the dead. I thought it

was the least I could do. However, I could only take note of the dying

things, never speak to them or prevent their death. I didn’t know why

things died, but I was always there when they died. I suppose I killed

them.

Fall had set in and the leaves changed hue. The notebook grew, the pages

filled, but book was never full. I flipped through the pages looking at

the animals and the plants I had seen die. I kicked through the dead

leaves cursing my situation and remembering where I once resided. Cursed

to roam this place and bear witness the end of all things.There had to

be a reason for their deaths. All these deaths, what was the point of

it? There had to be a motivation to put me through this. Why was I to

witness their end? I couldn’t save them no matter how much I tried. I

only caused death.

Winter arrived and its deathly whisper spoke to the land driving it to

its deep slumber. I was the most occupied with my notebook. So much

death. Much of it senseless. Suicide was a common thought. And each time

I dismissed it because I did not want another soul to bare the burden I

bare. I wasn’t certain if my ‘situation’ would end or just carry on to

the next poor soul. I always wore long clothing to hide the scars

covering my body.

With the arrival of spring came the judging looks of the animals as they

saw me. A mother deer guards her fawn from my presence. Other animals

snarl as I walk by. Even the plants shuddered as I walked by.

I was running for shelter in a thunderstorm and found a cave hiding in a

forest. The torrential rain and lightning continued outside the cave.

Each lightning strike illuminated portions of the cave and revealed I

was not alone.

A family of baboons was also taking shelter. I saw them in each

lightning flash. In each flash, I saw their fear increase. And soon,

they were gone. They left me in search of a different cave.

I could see them jumping through the forest looking for cover. I knew

they didn’t have long. They would’ve survived if they had stayed.

Enraged, I stood at the mouth of the cave and shouted into the distance.

“YOU THINK I WANTED THIS! YOU THINK I ENJOY DOING THIS!”

The rain picks up and some water starts falling into the cave. The wind

blows into the cave pushing me back in. The rain continued for the rest

of the night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The water glistened in the morning light. Small puddles lined the mouth

of the cave and tiny droplets of water fell from the leaves above. The

plants took no notice of me as they absorbed the nutrients from last

night’s downpour. The animals, on the contrary, kept their cautious and

guarding demeanor when they saw me.

I reached the boundary of the forest. The river was larger yet flowed

gently. I was alone at the boundary of the forest. I thought I was alone

until I saw her in the distance.

Across the river was her. An ethereal beauty. She was tending to the

plants around the river. Helping spread some of their seeds. The animals

gravitated to her, even the plants leaned if they could in her

direction.

I was amazed by her gentle aura and kind disposition emanating from her

being.

She looked up from her plants.

We locked eyes and knew then. She would be mine. And I would be hers. We

were complete opposites, but knew we were meant for each other.

She lived among nature. She slept in leaves and under trees.

I lived in the dying trees. It kept me safe and provided sturdy place in

storms.

She couldn’t bare to see the trees hurt, but understood that we needed a

safe place. She looked away as I began tearing down the trees to build

our new home. After the home was built, she quickly planted flowers and

plants to make up for the loss.

The same day, she showed me a garden she had created.

“Where did all of this come from?” I asked.

“I made it. I made everything” she replied. She demonstrated with a

seed. She placed the seed in the ground and watered. Soon a small

sapling sprouted from the soil.

She showed the creatures in the dirt and the plants growing due to their

assistance. The trees she replanted in the forest and the animals she

birthed to house in the forest. She left a few spots empty.

“Aren’t you going to plant in those empty spots?” I asked her.

She shrugged and waved off my question. She ushered me to follow her.

I walked through her garden of life and found a dying plant.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“I don’t know and I can’t save it” she spoke in a teary voice.

I placed my hand underneath the plants drooping stem. And it rested its

body in my palm like a child lying their head in his father’s hand for

comfort. Never before had a plant leaned itself against my hand.

Instinctively my hand reached for my notebook in my pocket.

“What’s that”, she asked.

I stammered. I didn’t know how to tell her, but she made the connections

herself.

“The animals spoke of you. Someone who takes note when they die.” She

said in surprised but fearful voice. “You killed them.”

“I don’t know.” I spoke shamefully.

I hand her my notebook. “This notebook notes everything that has died

since I began. I didn’t choose to do this. I never wanted this. I’m -”

“You were the one screaming”, she spoke in a soft voice.

“What?”

“The night of the storm. The animals and I heard a voice being carried

in the winds. I’ve never heard or felt such a hurt and confused soul. I

searched during the storm but I couldn’t find the source.”

I didn’t respond.

She put her hand on my shoulder and embraced me.

“I wanted to know who was hurt so I could hug them and let them know

it’ll be ok. And that everything happens for a reason. Everything has

beauty. You just need to find it.”

I was afraid her hand would feel the scars on my body. I felt her hand

touch a scar on my back, but she didn’t quiver and her embrace only

tightened. Never before had I felt wanted. For as long as I could

remember, I was separate from the world. In this moment, I felt loved.

In this moment, I felt bliss. In this moment, I felt I was with the

world. But I still felt conflicted. Even with her, I’ll still witness

the end.

However, her words echoed in my mind. ‘Everything has beauty’. And I am

determined to find it.

Months passed and she created new plants, new forests, and new animals

to roam the fields through the paradise. We didn’t speak of our

dichotomy much, but I wondered who had it worse. Her who knew her

children would die by me. Or me, knowing I’d be the one watch every

beautiful thing she creates die.

Time continues. As we grew older, her creations became binary. Nothing

was created without a pair. An eternal bond, she called it.

We’re standing in the garden watching the animals in the forest. She

pointed to two deer eating the grass near the forest.

“One being split in half. So there’s perfect pair for everyone.”

“How would they find each other”, I asked.

“Just like we did. So that everyone will have a partner.” She walked

back to the house.

I noticed that one of the trees I previously cut down had a hole in its

trunk. As I walked closer, the hole now housed an a parliament of owls.

“The dead tree provided a home”, I whispered to myself.

I turned to call to her, but I saw her already watching me. Smiling.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We sat on the hillside to watch the sunset. Every sunset reminded me of

the end. The ephemeral quality of life and I couldn’t stand watching

the end of everything. Knowing I watched everything turn to soot.

“Do you think I could ever create?” I asked her quietly. “Not like you.

But through dying plants and animals?”

She didn’t answer. The sun continued to fall and night was emerging

behind us.

“Do you think I could ever kill?” Her tone was quiet as if she had been

plagued by a similar question in her mind.

We sat in silence for a while never making eye contact.

She continued. “Remember when you asked why I didn’t plant in those

empty spots?”

“Yes.”

“I used to plant everywhere, but sometimes I see plants dying. They’re

not actually dying, but I see them dying. In the future maybe. That’s

why I stopped.”

Her gaze stayed upon the lying sun on the horizon. I looked towards her.

She continued.

“Look”, she said gesturing to the great expanse before us. A palate of

reds and oranges emanating from the single sun in the distance as the

dark sheet quickly follow. “The beauty of calmness and remaining still.

You are here. I feel your comforting presence.”

I didn’t respond.

“Millions of lives full of potential. Millions die everyday and you bare

witness to each and everyone one of them...... Then you would see my end

as well”, she continued.

I hadn’t considered that. I can’t see her die. I couldn’t bare it.

She turned towards me. Her eyes locked with mine. And we stayed like

this for a while. Gazing, analyzing in each other’s eyes.

“But I can’t lose you to.” The words escaped my mouth with such ease

that I didn’t even realize I spoke.

She put her hand on my cheek. I tilted my head to rest slightly in her

palm.

“You won’t lose me”, she spoke softly. “We’ll be together

forever.....One being split in half.”

“An Eternal Bond.”

“This is it. And it’s ephemeral. And that’s what makes it beautiful.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Epilogue

Now I wander the earth alone. I’ve seen many places, visited many

people. Many who could not see the beauty. My notebook stays with me

with its pages being continuously filled. The beauty of simplicity often

eluded me until now. The flap of a butterfly’s wings and the flight of a

bumblebee. Knowing that everything comes to an end is what makes it

valuable.

Everything has beauty and I could finally see.

All the lives I see end, and I will be blamed for each and every one of

them. I am a powerless being being forced to witness to the doom of

reality.

Sometimes I catch glimpses of her in the crowd. The whisper of her voice

in the wind or her laughter in the crowd. Though I may not see her, I

feel her presence with me everywhere.

We have an eternal bond that spans time and space.

A bond between Life and Death.

Sit still, back straight, hands rested in lap

Chin up, eyes forward, feet crossed

Girls, wear your long skirts to cover your skin, 

for if you show, you would be enticing men 

- it's your fault that they come - 

So cover your skin that makes you human 

In scraps of cloth sewn to hide your fire inside.

Boys, wear your suits to cover the rascals you are, 

tuck in your shirt, wear the blazer, make sure your shoes are shined, 

for if you don't, the women will turn away from you 

- be a gentleman - 

So, dress the way society commends, 

to hide the ways that you truly are with the scars you've earned. 

Sit pretty in front of your families, 

representing the name you carry

- a burden you're chained to -

Your words are your only solace, 

locked away all day until you can come back to your reprieve, 

releasing the screams from within 

- don't talk back, it's rude - 

Until they took away your words

- your freedom - 

Confining you to the box they've made, 

the perfect little child

So, sit pretty and stay silent, 

For if you do those things, you will be accepted 

- into a society of wolves -

Even Aphrodite, Greek Goddess of Love was jealous of not only their cosmic connection but because she had no hand in setting them up.

She sighs, “there are rare couples that are out of my control. Cosmically written in the stars. Destined beyond my influence.”

Cupid walks over with his bow and arrow, “I shot her, and my arrow bounced off her. That never happens!”

“Shh, calm down sweetie. These two rare beauties are beyond our reach. The heavens guided them together. This divine love is beyond even the Greek Gods.” She sighs walking away from the two souls embracing for all eternity.

“I don’t understand even Romeo and Juliet...” Cupid was cut off by Aphrodite.

“Hey! Do not mention their names,” she rolls her eyes. “They were one of my failed love hookups. I do not accept them.”

Cupid chuckles, “At least they went down in history…” he trails off, raising his eyebrow.

Aphrodite flips her long blonde hair, “They definitely went down…that’s for sure.”

   She wore a smile like an armed missile. Full of mischief and adventure. A fire danced aglow behind her eyes. If you got too close, you might burn, for that smile was her weapon.

    There was something about her that kept you coming for more. She radiated off something that made me wanting more - the danger kept me coming back. She was something of lost words and joyous laughter. Something that made everyone around her smile. 

    People would sneer at her wherever she went. They would point, they would whisper, they would judge. But that never stopped her. She would dance right up to them and look them dead in the eyes. Using that smile, she would ask: May I have this dance? They always took the bait, she was too enticing, no one could ever say no to her. And it’s not like they wanted to.

    She was different from other girls. She didn’t need a knight in shining armor, for she was her own knight. She didn’t need a boy to tell her she was beautiful, for she knew she was beautiful. She was too loud, too bold, too adventurous for any boy to tame. And eventually they said she was too different, but she didn’t care that she was different, she just wanted to be herself. For her different made her beautiful.