I Took a Walk At Night
I took a walk at night.
I turned my music off
This time
And noticed.
The birds playing their game of tag in
the trees
silhouetted black against the darkening blue sky.
Noticed
the canvas of watercolor painted by the sun as it sank beneath the horizon.
Noticed
the amplified echoes of children playing
as they held onto the last remnants of the day
of their childhood
before they’re handed access to everything in the world and it all
changes.
Will they miss this?
Will they even know?
If they look up at night, they will see stars.
Will they?
If they listen, they'll hear the wind.
Will they?
Will it even be here?
Will they?
Did I Make a Difference? I’ll Never Know
They say it's never too late to start a new career, but I'm not so sure. A second act may not be in store for me. I'm stuck. It's not a new feeling. Inertia has plagued me for much of my life.
Being a teacher is a weird thing. We do it because... why do we do it? We care, that's definitely true. We wouldn't do it if we didn't, or if we hadn't at some point. But's hard to keep caring when it seems like no one else does.
Most days I come home feeling like I didn't do much. The to-do list never ends, and I rarely get the satisfaction of checking something off the list because the students and their needs come before everything. The to-do list can wait.
So what did I actually do today?
I listened to a young girl, who is normally happy and gives me book recommendations, tell me she was on the verge of a breakdown and that's why she'd been avoiding her work. She'd turn it in by the end of the day, she promised. I told her she needed to take care of herself. It's okay to shut down from time to time, as long as we come back. Maybe I made her feel better. Maybe I didn't. I'll likely never know.
I wrote a college recommendation letter for a student hoping to get into an Ivy League college. As easy as it would be to recycle a past letter, I started this from scratch and put my heart into it, recalling stories from the time he was in my class, hoping that if this letter actually is read by the people who matter, it will tip the scales in his favor. If history is any indication, I'll never know.
I gently encouraged a student to wake up and finish his work because if he doesn't, he'll fail my class and won't graduate. As I approached him the smell of weed became stronger until I felt I could get a contact high in his presence. I can't even blame him because I know what his life is like. He's spoken of gunshots in his neighborhood and bodies lying dead on the streets. He's lost cousins, uncles, friends. I don't begrudge him this habit that gets him through the day. I hope he'll make it out of this place and break the cycle. I'll never know.
I gave band-aids, advice, feedback, grades, tips, strategies, information, lessons, assignments, love, encouragement, my all.
I hope it'll make a difference. I'll never know.
Going Away
“Maybe I’ll just stay home. Go to community college,” I say, setting my laptop on my new dorm desk. I look at my mom, sitting on my bed helping me unpack my boxes, and silently beg her to agree. But she doesn’t say anything, just smiles at me sympathetically. If she thought that's what I really wanted, she'd have me home in a heartbeat. But she knows, despite my fears, I want to do this. Need to. “I’m just so nervous,” I say, rubbing my stomach. Anxiety always brings me stomach problems. “I don’t remember how to make friends.”
“Oh, come on,” she says, her tone telling me I’m being ridiculous. “You’ve never had any trouble making friends.”
“Well, yeah. I know. But they’ve just... always been my friends. Through school and sports and stuff. This place is so big. It’s not like in third grade when I just went up to whatshername and said ‘will you be my friend’ and she agreed and that was that.”
My mom laughs. “Well, no, you probably don’t want to do that. But you’ll meet people in the dorm. And the sorority, if you end up deciding to rush.”
For some reason, my mom’s really wanting me to join a sorority. Maybe because it's not an opportunity she ever had. Her parents were barely able to send her to college, and she had to work her way through it. For me, college was a given, and there's been no talk of me getting a job. “Ugh," I say, plopping down next to her. "I just wish I could fast-forward past all the awkwardness and find people I can be myself with immediately. I, like, lock up around new people and forget how to be a person."
“Just remember. Everyone is in the same boat as you. It’s not like you’re the new girl coming into a place where everyone knows everyone. You’re all freshman in college. People are looking to make friends. Trust me. It’ll happen fast.”
“Okay,” I sigh, not wanting to talk about it anymore. She’s probably right, but her words do nothing to loosen the knot in my stomach.
I momentarily wonder if I should have gone where my friends are going and experienced high school 2.0. But I remind myself that I came to this school so I would be forced to get out of my comfort zone. As scary as it is, I want new. I want change.
My dad walks into the room with the last of my boxes. “Alright, that’s it,” he says, setting them down in the middle of the room. I use my foot to shove them closer to what I've claimed as my desk. My roommate hasn’t arrived yet and I don’t want her to think I’m trying to take over the place. Thankfully, we'd chatted online before this and had established that she'd take the top bunk, which is fine by me since I spent my whole childhood on the top.
“I’m starving." My dad says. "Should we go eat?”
My mom looks at me. “What do you think, Coley? Do you want to finish unpacking first or go eat now?”
I look at my dad. He has his hands on his hips and is tapping his foot, exaggerating his impatience. This is his signature move. I laugh to humor him. “Let’s go eat,” I say. I’m really hungry too, though I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat much with the knot in my stomach. But if I unpack now and then we go eat, what am I going to do when I get back and they leave? As long as I have a tangible task to complete, I won’t feel completely aimless.
We go to Shakespeare’s, my parents’ favorite pizza place since when they were students here. It’s crowded-- I’m not the only freshman moving in today-- but somehow we manage to get a table outside. I lean back in the chair and try to enjoy the beautiful August day. I breathe deeply, hoping it will ease my anxiety. It doesn’t. I look around at the tables around us. Mostly families, probably doing the same thing we’re doing. I lot of people are wearing the school’s colors, and suddenly I feel self-conscious for wearing a T-shirt with my high school’s mascot. As I fidget with my senior class ring, I make a mental note to hide it and anything else bearing the name or colors of my high school. I’m in college now. Better play the part.
When we get back to my dorm, my dad stays in the car because we’ve had to create a parking spot and he’s worried they’ll get ticketed. I hug him goodbye and my mom walks me back up to my room. I go slowly, trying to delay their departure. I wonder if I’ll cry. Probably not. I don’t typically cry when I’m expected to, something that’s always bothered me. But the feeling of dread in my stomach grows.
“Do you need anything before we go? We can run to the grocery store if we need to,” my mom says when we get to my room. My roommate still hasn’t arrived. I wish she would. That would at least be something.
“No,” I sigh. Something I’ve been doing a lot lately. Cleansing breaths. Not working. “I think I have everything I need. I can always walk to the school store if I need to.” As much as I dread them leaving, delaying it is only making my anxiety grow. I need to cut the cord. Start figuring out how to be here on my own.
“Ok,” she says, but she doesn’t move. It’s like she’s trying to think of something else to keep her longer. “Here,” she says, digging into her purse. “I got you this. I’m not sure why, but it reminds me of you. Of us.” If my mom was a public crier, this would be the time she’d start blubbering. But her eyes are dry.
I take the CD out of her hand and look at the cover. Dixie Chicks. I smile. “Landslide,” I say, remembering the times we sang that song together in the car. “Awww, how cute of you,” I joke, unable to handle the intimacy of her gesture.
She gives me a hug. “You’re going to do great,” she says. “I better get going before dad leaves without me. Love love love.”
“Love love love,” I say, looking down because I actually start to feel tears welling up. This is unexpected. “Have a safe drive back.” But I don’t want her to leave. She’s comfort. She’s familiarity. She’s safety and solace. She’s the person I turn to for just about everything, and now I’m going to be without her.
Just like that, she’s gone, and I turn and face my empty room.
Daddy’s Girl
Melanie’s stomach hurt in the middle of the night waking her from a restless dream. It was probably the spicy takeaway her father had picked out for dinner that caused it.
She traipsed to the bathroom, her belly aching uncomfortably. She’d had diarrhea before, but it hadn’t felt quite like this.
She pulled down her pajamas to see...
Spots.
Red.
A lot of them.
She checked her underwear.
More spots.
More red.
She was too frightened to scream.
“Daddy?” asked Melanie peeking into her father’s bedroom at midnight. Thankfully he was still awake. “Can I ask you something?”
“Mellie, you’re still awake?” he said enthusiastically putting down a dull book on stocks and trading. “Come in.”
Melanie entered but stood by the door looking distressed and twiddling her fingers nervously.
“What is it honey?” asked her father worriedly.
“Daddy, I think I’m hurt.” she said trembling slightly.
“Hurt? Where are you hurt dear?” he asked looking for scrapes or bruises on her knees and hands. But there were none.
“Um it doesn’t hurt...but there’s blood...a lot of it.” she stuttered gesturing meaningfully towards her lower belly. “I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
It took her father just over a minute to realize what she was talking about. Melanie was eleven years old and hadn’t had the birds and bees talk yet. From what he knew, they didn’t teach it at school until later that semester. Frankly, he had forgotten about it. Goodness he was such a bad father.
Before he could berate himself further, Melanie started to cry.
“Daddy am I going to die? I’m bleeding out!” she said wiping at her tears.
Alarmed at her words, he got into protective Armageddon mode and within seconds he was up from the bed and running to his daughter.
“No honey, what’s happening is natural, it’s normal., it happens to every girl when they enter puberty.” he scrambled to explain.
“It’s natural?” she asked, her eyes widening. “But why?”
Good question. But it had a long and uncomfortable answer. Her father was about to launch into an explanation when he noticed that her pajamas were getting soaked.
Tampons, pads where is it? He thought.
Shit. There were no products in the house, because there were no women. Melanie’s mother had passed away ten years ago, and he doubted any lady products she’d left behind in the closet now relocted to the basement would be safe to use.
“Mellie, here, put on my coat, we’ll make a quick trip to the store.” he said grabbing his wallet and car keys and handing Melanie his smallest jacket.
She put it on, effectively covering herself completely like a long raincoat.
“Ready Mel?” he asked giving her his hand.
“Ready Daddy.” she said taking it.
“Would you like the pink one or the purple one?” asked the bored male shopkeeper stifling a yawn. “Or the green one or the blue one...”
Melanie picked out the simplest one with a picture of smiling girl her age. “This one. She looks happy to be wearing it.”
Her father smiled. “There’s a bathroom, out at the back. Let’s go so you can put it on.” he said.
He waited outside as Melanie stepped in the tiny cubicle and ripped open the pack of pads. They smelled nice, like flower scented paper. She dutifully read through the instructions.
Stick the pad onto your panties like this
There was a nice image of how she should do it and she followed it properly. She suspected she messed up however, because when she stepped out of the bathroom, she couldn’t walk.
“Daddy, I can’t move my legs.” she said uncomfortably. How on earth did women do all the stuff commercials showed them doing while wearing this?
So he just picked her up like he did when she was younger and took her home.
Melanie spent ages in the washroom, cleaning and analyzing and whatnot while her father worked on his laptop.
When Melanie finally emerged, she was all cleaned up and wide awake, but still walking awkwardly. He sat her down at the table with a nice big scoop of chocolate ice cream and extra syrup.
“Now Mellie, I have a presentation for you.” he said turning his laptop to face her. “Think of it as a quick course in biology.”
“But I hate biology.” said Melanie happily starting to tuck into her ice cream.
“Not my best subject either.” he admitted. “But we all need to know some important stuff.”
She nodded. “Go on Daddy.”
And thus began the most unexpected five minutes of their lives.
He used as much self explanatory scientific diagrams as he could, hoping she would understand well enough. She did, everything was going smoothly until...
“Wait that’s what a guy has?” she asked fascination lacing her voice as she looked at the diagram.
Her father groaned internally. He was hoping she wouldn’t be interested, he’d picked the worst diagram he could find.
He hurriedly changed the slide and went onto the last one which had a diagram of both sexes side by side.
“So , um that goes in that and that’s how you get babies.” he said quickly hoping she wouldn’t ask questions.
Melanie winced just then and stopped eating, clutching her stomach. “My tummy hurts.” she said tears prickling her eyes.
Oh dear. What was he supposed to do?
Should he call the doctor? It’s 1 a.m.
Should he call his best friend? His wife could help...
“Daddy, will you wrap me up in blankets and watch Princess Diaries with me?” she asked sweetly.
Of course he would.
About fifteen minutes into the film, Melanie started to doze off.
“Thank you Daddy.” she said before she fell asleep, tucked into a little ball on the couch.
He carried her to her room and kissed her forehead after tucking her in. His throat closed up suddenly, overwhelmed with emotion as he turned to leave.
His little angel was turning into a lady. But one thing was certain, no matter how many new beginnings came their way---her first job, first love, first time away from home...
“Anything you need love, you can count on me.” he said, softly closing the door on his way out.
#Father
#Love
#NewBeginnings
#fresh
#HappensToEveryone
#prose
#girl
#dad
We Are All Loved
White. Black. Asian. Hispanic. Indian. Middle Eastern.
Straight. Gay. Lesbian. Bi. Trans. Asexual. Pan.
Christian. Jewish. Muslim. Atheist.
Man and woman.
Young and old.
We all deserve a chance to love.
We all deserve to be loved.
Love is endless.
Love is boundless.
Love is timeless.
Love is love.
The Image of The Beast
The image is a little hard to see, but this is meant to be Lu's 'Beast' form. In my series Sins of the Father, my version of Lucifer (the current ruler of the Inferno) has the ability to transform into this monstrous dragon-like creature meant to ravage everything in his path. There's not much to see in the image so allow me to describe my sketch. Picture a large bipedal creature that has the characteristics of a Tyrannosaurus Rex and Godzilla, complete with long bone spikes along his body, two giant horns above his brow, a mouth full of dagger-like teeth, a long spiked tail, and the number 666 etched into his hide. And yes, if you're seeing it correctly, there is a second mouth on his cheek. The Beast does have a pair of secondary mouths, one on each side of his skull. This is in reference to how Dante described Lucifer in Dante's Inferno, stating that he had three faces with three mouths, each one devouring three of the history's greatest traitors. Inside one of his clawed hands are his human stepdaughters Rosemary and Regan Gravely, thus giving you an idea of how large he's meant to be.
My inspiration behind the Beast came from when I went to Sunday School when I was younger, back when I used to believe in all that Bible stuff. I think I asked somebody, either another kid or the pastor, what the devil looked like, and they described looking like some sort of dragon. Now being a young kind obsessed with dinosaurs and dragons, I thought that sounded really badass. It honestly made me less afraid of the devil and more afraid.
The backstory behind 'The Beast' is that after Lu was sent to Hell, he lost his angelic powers and soul, soon to be dying. The demons took him in under orders of their king Baracrus, Lu's mentor and predecessor. Lu was then converted into a pureblood demon with new abilities, but also a big side effect, The Beast. Lu can transform into this hulking monster through will and can wreck havoc as such. But the problem is that the Beast is driven by blind rage, so he has trouble controlling his other half. When he was sent by his dark master Baracrus to eliminate an enemy fortress, Lu would take the form of his other form and kill everyone on site, leaving no survivors. When the angels came across the aftermath, they said that destruction was so macabre that only a beast could have committed this. And thus 'The Beast' was named.
He was first referenced in the story 'Bully of the Beast', but did not make his first appearance until the story 'Keep to the Road', which also features the first appearance of my series' recurring antagonists the Scavengers.
Stories featuring 'The Beast':
https://theprose.com/post/82315/bully-of-the-beast
https://theprose.com/post/115675/keep-to-the-road-complete
https://theprose.com/post/144269/god-s-little-princess-complete
https://theprose.com/post/189027/the-greatest-trick-or-treat-the-devil-ever-pulled
https://theprose.com/post/214368/beauty-and-the-beast-complete
#sinsofthefather #devil #artwork #lore