November 13th, 2016

Clarissa Downing 

Diary Entry 

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"Good Morning," I exclaim getting out of bed. My mother was downstairs making me birthday pancakes. Running down my stairs, I hear the pit-pat of my kitten behind me. Frijoli is always right my me. Such sweet cat.

I come running into the kitchen and slip on water. My mother and I are now laughing hysterically. I get up and eat my pancakes. My mother knows how to cook and we are going into the living room for presents and to watch the news.

In the living room, there was only a few small presents wrapped in iridescent wrapping paper. Turn out, I got a Polaroid camera and some cute clothing. Me and my mom now turned on the television and put on the news. Same old stories. People in today's society are truly getting worse. A man getting shot and bridge getting set on fire because of people doing drugs. Honestly, have some common sense. I decided to go back to my room and get ready for my day. All of my friends are going shopping with me and after they had a surprise to show me. I do not like surprises because of my anxiety. People do not know about my anxiety though and they just call me weird for not liking their surprises. 

I get up to my room and check my phone. I instantly get hit with messages from Twitter, Instagram, and my friends. All wishing me a happy birthday. This made me smile. Now, what do I wear? I have no idea of what we are doing after shopping.

I picked a simple black top with a long, grey, sleeveless sweater and a pair of sandals. I thought this would comfortable and cute. Also, perfect for anything we would be doing. They will be here at noon, so I have and hour until they get here. I decide to take a shower to fix my messy hair. I get dressed and head out the door. Amanda said she wanted to drive because she wanted the plans to be a surprise.

Now, we arrived at a shopping mall  and started to shop. We went into a store and got amazing smelling candles and perfume. Then we went into a store to get cute sweaters and jeans. We ended up in restaurant selling sausage and mash. It was delicious and I will most certainly be coming back.  

Now, back in the car. We are jamming to some music and we have no care on who is looking at us. It was time to go to the surprise and I am nervous. 

It turned out to be a large castle and my friends rented it out for the night. How expensive was that? Many other people starting coming and they were all carrying presents. I am excited. 

After the party got started, I was getting really nervous. So, I decided to step outside into the beautiful, flower covered woods. I would get so pictures with my new camera. As I walked out, I felt like I was not alone. I heard something behind me and snapped a photo. Who are you?

. . . . . . . . . . .

Police Report

February 7th, 2017 

Clarissa is still missing and no suspects have been found. The only evidence we have was the one picture she took on her Polaroid camera and her diary. The picture showed a dark shadow, but no face. Her friends did not think of anything and the castle was left with present boxes on the table. Fallen decorations still lay on the floor.

I kept telling myself lies

Excuses

Why I felt this way

But eventually I gave in

And I realized

When I finally gave in

That there was a whole part of me

That had been locked away

More than just one thing was released

When I spoke three words.

I wrote a mnemonic

To be able to tell my friends

I ate my bed in sunny eagles xeric utopia, alright laugh.

I still remember it

Go ahead, use it

I dare you

Let you out

Let those wings finally fly free.

I don't know what I identify as.

That is the honest truth.

Why even try to give myself a label?

It will just confuse me more.

I like girls.

I like boys.

Sometimes I like both,

Sometimes one or the other,

Sometimes neither.

It changes 

And there's nothing wrong with that.

Nothing about being human

Is concrete.

I was once told that all humans 

Are at least slightly bisexual.

I am not sure if I believe that,

But I don't believe that 

Sexuality can be written in stone.

I have been away from prose for a while. Life, as we all know, slaps you in the face every once in a while. This time it was cancer. Not me, but someone who I love very much, someone I grew up with, someone I share...

It is stage IV, which was unceremoniously announced to my family one cold, winter night not long ago. That was devestating enough, now I learn that one, one, one of the tumors has doubled in size the last two weeks. It is in a vital organ.

God promises that he will not allow us to go through that which we can not bear. He also promises that ALL things work together for the good of them that love Him. I love Him, and I trust Him, but this is so very hard.

Cancer does not just attack the person who has it, it also attacks the people who love them. Traditionally, my family has a history of heart problems. This is the first case of cancer that has ever turned up in my blood line. I always imagined I knew what families went through while fighting this scourge but, as is usually the case, I really had no idea until faced with it.

My heart, my prayers, and my love go out to all the families who are fighting cancer. God be with you all.

I want a puppy, a cute li'l puppy with big brown eyes and a li'l wet nose and a pink tongue that she kisses me with and I wanna name the puppy 'Lady' and we would do everything together, like we'd walk together and ride together and eat together and sleep together and I'd potty-train her and I'd teach her tricks like, "sit" and "stay" and "roll over" and "shake" and all my friends would be so jealous because of my really cute and really smart puppy and then she'd grow up and have puppies of her own, like maybe six puppies and there'd be three girls and three boys and they'd mostly look like her but they'd also look like their daddy, too, and I'd name them 'Melody' and 'Amber' and 'Brooke' and 'Morton' and 'Sherlock' and 'Snapper' and we'd all have fun together in my house, or maybe we'd live on a big farm or something cuz we'd need a really big place by then so Lady and her babies could all run around and have fun until the puppies get old enough to give away and then me and Lady could still enjoy the farm cuz we could chase chickens and tend to the cows and the horses and the pigs and we'd all be one big happy family.

'I am Wizard Criminee' the bespectacled boy bowed 'I'll be taking that Beetleroot...'

Estrima punched him in the face.

As if she’d let a man deter her! Her father and elder brothers, all were useless. And what was a “wizard” anyway?

‘No, you won’t. This is in my forest!’ She declared proudly ‘I am a witch!’

‘An itch? You need a balm?’

‘You dare call me weak!’ Estrima bellowed. That’s what everyone called her. ‘If you want my plant – Fight!’

‘You just broke my snout!’ he cried, coating his nose in yellow ointment. The swelling disappeared.

‘I am mortally afraid of you! But for my medicine...’ He sighed ‘How would you like to compete?’

Estrima squinted.

‘Faunaspeak?’ he proposed, lifting his hand. Commotion followed.

She gasped. Crows came flocking and surrounded them in every direction, cawing over their heads. What was that?

‘Too easy.’ She lied, covering her ears.

‘Spells, then?’ he started muttering something.

Estrima saw tiny drops of dew fly above their heads! They spread out in front of her, displaying her freckled face. A mirror!

She gaped at it, then squinted at Criminee.

He was good! Estrima was extremly annoyed. She felt the same, when her brothers boasted their magical achievements, ending with “But poor Estrima! She belongs to no class of magic!”

But she could listen to tiny whisperings hidden from the corner of everyone’s eyes. Spirits!

And she had decided to shut those men up!

They asked her ‘Which spectrum colour are you?’

‘Witch.’ She would answer. Then, this guy came!

‘Listen, let’s do it fast.’ He urged urgently ‘Lives depend on my medicine.’

She squinted. There was only one thing she could do.

‘Come!’ she pleaded, cupping her hands together.

A small spark twinkled in between her palms. She looked around her, spirits glittered everywhere, between trees, under the Beetleroot, in her tangled hair.

‘This is spirit talking!’ To her surprise, he exclaimed ‘I’ve never seen anyone do this before!’ Like a child, he clapped his hands. Removing his glasses, he came peering into her palms.

‘You are truly amazing!’ he grinned. No one had ever called her “amazing” before.

‘You are truly weird.’ she commented slowly.

‘Yes, that’s from where I got “Wizard”.’ He nodded, bowing politely ‘How unfortunate! I lost. You are too strong for me! Still I want this Beetleroot...’

She boxed his teeth this time. Wrombizongs! His modesty was too insulting!

‘Why are you bullying me?’ he rubbed his bleeding lip.

‘The Beetleroot. You can have it.’ Shrugging, she turned away.

‘Really? Th...’

‘I’m not helping you.’ she coughed. ‘But I hope you succeed. Your medicine will be amazing.’

‘Thanks.’ She heard him dig. ‘Anyway, Why would you think you are weak? My mother taught me everything and she is really strong.’

‘Is that so?’ Perhaps, the “Wizard” was not so bad.

Then it clicked.

‘Wait! That means I am not the first witch?’

He had disappeared.

‘Wrombizongs!’ She yelled at the woods ‘I hate men!’

Don’t wade in my grate of tears,

splash aside whispers of shadows

as damp marble façade crumbles

in still pond of crimson sorrow.

Clammy chill of forgotten winds

wraps around damp torso

in sheer curtains of mist.

Slippery path leads to edge,

smell of brine permeates soul,

seagulls sadly signaling me home.

Peace seeps sodden emptiness

through breath of sorrowful sea

I slip blissfully into wet offering

surrendering to watery respite.

In my old life, I worked as a barista at a swanky coffee shop. I was the cute Asian girl everyone liked to hit on. I smiled when I needed to. I kept my eyes lowered when I needed to. I would take all my pent up anger and frustration at customers and put it into my Kung Fu training. You see, our family has this special sword. My mom gave it to me. I I learned how to use it a little bit. It was real easy to learn actually. It's more like a freestyle sort of form. And you say the "Hail Mary" prayer while you do it and the techniques just come out. 

I did it every day as a child. 

"Have you done your sword prayer Alicia?" my mother would ask. And then later this nun helped me with it too. It was some secret sort of sect with in the Catholic Church of lesbian nuns who secretly did Manachaean Gnostic rites and were influenced by Buddhisms Eightfold Path. Heretics. Not that any of that matters now. 

As an adult, I used this prayer 3-20 times a day, like punching a pillow, striking air with my special sword, which was ugly and kind of heavy. 

But today, on my first day of freedom, I let it loose. A whole hoard of zombies descended on Boston's Chinatown. Many were old customers, friends, some distant family probably. For the first time, I knew. I could kill. I could kill and it would be merciful. I would be like Kwan Yin the Goddess of mercy freeing soul from their bondage. 

My Hail Mary could cut the heads of the Zombies off and  slit the throats of the crazed men who took advantage of the situation to rape and pillage. 

I wasn't the cute Asian girl. I was a death goddess of Holy Light. 

Each time my sword tasted blood it grew stronger and in my ecstacy I felt that I could fly. I killed people too. Not the innocent of course. Most people are waiting until it gets that bad that they have to do that. They want to go through all the canned goods first. I ordered my army of women and children not to. Soon all the humans will be dead or Zombies. We can't eat Zombies... or not for certain yet. I will capture some evil humans and make them eat zombie meat and obesrve what happens. But it's only 10:00 am on my first day of freedom, you know what I'm saying? I have big plans if I make it but so far it's just hacking away and protecting people with potential.

I roasted up a good amount of other survivors because they were bad people. You can ask "How can I determine that?" I don't. My sword does. And the fact that they were real jerks when they bought coffee from me. We roasted them up real good in a Siu Lap place we took over. You know, Char Siu, Hau Yuk, the Roast duck places in Chinatown that hang the meats in the window? I commandeered a section to be a vegetable garden... again have to see about Zombies for fertilizer. 

People are afraid of those hordes of Zombies.  I say let them come. I put their heads on sticks and me and some children made a skull wall a mile long. Guess what, it seems to turn the zombies back. 

People cry when their relatives are bitten. I kill their relatives and them without blinking. They are in a better place now. And I am in a better place now. 

People think this is the zombie apocalypse. I say everyone was zombies before, coming rudely for their coffee handing over money that represents time at a job they don't like marching slowly towards death, hands out for their cup of dark blood of anti-christ communion with a fancy sleeve or straw on it that they can show off to other people on the street. 

Others call it the zombie apocalypse.

Live or die.. I call it the first day of Freedom.