Choices
Prom was 3 weeks away,
She didn't care.
She wasn't shopping for a prom dress, or flipping through fashion magazines, looking for a trendy hairstyle.
She was hunched over a toilet in the mornings, and fighting to keep her eyes open in class.
For the past 6 weeks she wandered along, lost as if she was stuck inside a dream.
She'd wake up,
This can't be real!
That boy, the boy who said he loved her, he disappeared.
Maybe, she will go to the bathroom and what was growing inside of her, would also disappear.
She will never know if she made the right choice. It was her right, to choose after all, but it was all just a murky dream.
On June 5th, She walked into the clinic alone. Her mother drove her, her mother walked her inside, but no one was trapped inside this horrendous dream, with her. She was an accomplice to a brutal double murder that day, She killed what was growing in the hollowness of her womb, she also killed a piece of herself. She read the signs, the protestors held, she dropped her head, as she moved through. It was all really just a bad dream. The waiting room was crowded, she didn't bother to look into the faces, sitting next to her. She wished she would just disappear, or wake up!
She was called into a cold exam room, everyone and everything was cold, sterile, and void of compassion. The internal ultrasound was performed by a male physician, who lacked kindness. Count backwards from 10, was the last thing she heard, before she woke up, in a recliner chair beside a row of other girls and/or women, some crying, moaning,some hurling into basins.
"Wake up!" She could hear a woman's voice faintly, it seemed so far away, Ignoring her seemed right.
Where I'm I?
The cramping she felt, was like a knife to the heart, reminding her of her whereabouts.
A piece of her died that day. She'll never know if she made the right choice.
She never heard from that boy again. He didn't take her to the prom.
He didn't break up with her, he just vanished. She will always wonder if it was the choice, that made him go, or if he would have disappeared either way. She wasn't sorry then, and she isn't sorry now, that he went away, it wasn't love, this she knew. She is glad she isn't tied to him, or is she really just tangled in a web of dark secrets? A piece of the past, she will never heal from, a piece he will always be apart of. A secret, a burden she will always carry, alone.
Jake Is Gone
No matter how hard Kim tried to scrape Jake from her skin, his rotten essence
clung desperately with hooks imbedded into her heart. Poison spewed from his angry open mouth as he told her over and over that she was worthless. What really worried her was that his venom was spreading to her own subconscious as she incorporated his words into her mind in grasping chunks of malignancy.
Kim began to search for a sharp knife to cut him out of her core. After abrading a thin slice of Jake from her arm, she watched in fascination as dark black blood began to seep in a trickle onto the floor. Before cutting any further, she paused in appalling disgust realizing that she was targeting the wrong person. She was not the cause of her anguish!
From the living room, she heard Jake yelling at her dog to get out of the way.
Walking up behind him, she asked him to turn around, sticking the knife forcefully up to its hilt into his chest. She was amazed to see the extent of his ghastly contents of malice and hostility spill onto the carpet. Her only thoughts at the time were that she would have to contact the carpet cleaning company as soon as possible to remove the last taint of his existence. A sense of peace enveloped her as she picked up the telephone to take care of this one last task.
A Collector’s Mark
I’ve never considered myself an artistic person, but out of habit I trace my eyes along the contours of Cassandra’s milky porcelain face, like I have a thousand times before. I find myself entranced with the clear artistic quality of her. My gaze lands on her blank, glassy hazel eyes framed in a perfect fringe of shiny black lashes. Her child-like expression with plump cherubic cheeks, a round little button nose, and small pouty pink lips makes her the supreme picture of innocence. She’s beautiful, but I’ve always found her almost orange eyebrows a little odd in comparison to her silky brown curls.
When I was in sixth grade my father gave me Cassandra. He had bought her at an auction and I hated her for the simple reason that my father couldn’t seem to recognize that I had long out grown such childish things. I felt a wry smile wedge itself against my cheek as I acknowledged that I was now a full grown adult and Cassandra was by far my most precious possession. My father died a week later and Cassandra was the last gift he gave to me.
I gently tap Cassandra’s nose and marvel over the fact that all these years later she still looks as fresh and faultless as the day I got her. Porcelain dolls are more durable than people give them credit for. Today though, it seems not even Cassandra can soothe me. I imagine that just beyond the painted color of her eyes lies a reflection of my own inner anxiety.
Abandoning Cassandra I go back to the bathroom to further examine my appearance. I skim a clammy hand through my softly curling blonde waves while critically examining my flaws. My lips are too thin, the bridge of my nose has a hawk-like bump to it, and my cheek bones are too broad in my oval face. Deciding to apply another layer of mascara to my short lashes, I grieve over how small and unnoticeable my eyes are. They aren’t expressive and large. Not for the first time I wish that I had Cassandra’s flawless, doll born beauty.
A heavy knock gets my attention and I go to answer the door to my dusky, handsome date. I invite him in while I grab my purse and coat. Coming back into the living room I notice as I approach that he is staring at Cassandra where I left her on the coffee table.
“Are you ready to go?” I realize I am wringing my hands nervously and force them neutrally to my side.
He tosses his inky black hair back and flicks his soulful dark eyes over to me. Offering an easy smile that folds into his devastatingly charming dimples, he takes hold of my face with his large cold hands and says, “You are so beautiful.” The words roll off his tongue in his sensual foreign accent, “So many women today hide their beauty behind makeup.” He gently drags his thumb down my lips leaving a moist trail of something cloyingly sweet, “Tonight I am going to show you how beautiful you truly are.” Letting me go he turns and picks up Cassandra with the utmost care and gazes down at her impassive little face. I can’t quite understand why, but seeing him holding Cassandra gives me a deep sense of unease. I feel dizzy and steady myself on the arm of the couch.
My knees buckle and my heart sluggishly pounds while my thoughts whirl. He ignores me and continues to look down at Cassandra tenderly and in my altered state for a moment Cassandra seems to kick and squirm, her empty face now filled with hatred and naked fear. I blink and again she is just a cold, lifeless doll.
“Cassandra was like you once,” he began in a soft nostalgic lilt. “I met her in the seventies. So filled with vibrant light and possibility, and yet so blind to her own charm. She had a doll too you know. Edith. Beautiful, fiery Edith.” Now he turns his eyes upon me and I wonder how I never noticed the feverish, manic gleam in them. I’m not even sure where I met him. “Edith marked Cassandra. And Cassandra marked you.” Cassandra was discarded as he carelessly dropped her on the sofa, his eyes now boring holes into my own. It’s now that I notice I’m laid flat out on the floor with not even the strength to crook my finger. “And soon my sweet perfect doll…you’ll mark someone new.” His words don’t make sense to me and inside I’m quivering with terror. His wide devilish mouth curls into a grin. He seems impossibly large as he looms over me. His hand reaches out to grab me and while he picks me up I seem to soar through the air in a disconnected way. The disproportion in our sizes gives me a sick feeling of vertigo and I blessedly lose consciousness.
When I awake I see a beautiful doll with large blue eyes and softly curling blonde hair staring blankly at me. Behind the doll are shelves filled with countless others in different colors and eras of style. I see Cassandra with her orange eyebrows and dark hair. In the haze of a second her face constricts in agony and I see tears before it is again the stoic expression I’ve always known.
I can’t move. All I can do is look at the blonde doll. A mounting feeling of trapped terror builds inside me and I want to scream, because it is then that I realize the doll I’m seeing is a reflection in a mirror.
A shadow shifts behind the blonde doll and with a jolt I realize it is the man from before. I don’t even know his name. He bends down to pick up the doll and just as he makes contact I feel two large pinches grip my waist. I am spun around to find myself facing his great distorted head. He cradles me and buries his face in my hair and I feel myself becoming sick with confusion and powerless panic. He pulls back and gives me a greasy kiss. “I’ll see you again my love. Just a few short years and then you can join your sisters in my private collection.” I try to scream and push him away, but the shriek only echoes in my mind and my arms never even twitch.
He carries me out of the room filled with dolls into a room where a woman is holding the hand of a young red headed girl. Upon seeing me the little girl’s eyes light up. I try to say something, anything but nothing comes out.
“My! What a beautiful doll. Your craftsmanship is amazing.” The mother’s monstrous head peers down at me in admiration.
“Making these dolls is my pleasure.” His despicable deep voice reverberates through me and horror chills my body. I’m a doll. He crouches down to the young girl’s level and carefully hands me to her. I see her shiny excited face before I’m mashed roughly into her chest by her childish embrace. “From one collector to another.” I can hear his smile. “I hope you’ll find yourself back to my humble workshop one of these days.” His tone laced with underlying intent.
My eyes peak out over the girl’s shoulders as she carries me out of the shop with her mother. I can see him standing there, his eyes shimmering with dark, greedy desire. It is then that I understand. Just as Edith marked Cassandra and Cassandra marked me. I’ve marked this little girl and one day he will come to collect her just as he came for me. We are doomed to be dolls upon his shelf.
Moonlight
The full moon shined on the forest floor as Raisa, a beautiful fairy with long honey hair, blue eyes, light brown skin and freckles lining below her eyes was making her trek in the woods. She wore a pink ruffled crop top, a short ruby red skirt that represented a rose and was barefoot but had vines that lined her legs. Her fairy wings were a fluorescent pink color that shined under the full moon as she glided through the sleepy forest. Raisa ventured into the forest as the sounds of owls calling in the night and crickets chirping left her in a state of ease and relaxation. Raisa loved coming out at night because during that time, she would practice her craft in solitary to ensure that her magic would become stronger. She would also come out at night to replenish her powers at the Fairy Lagoon. When she reached the Fairy Lagoon, it was a bright baby blue that reflected the moonlight and glowed in a luminescent light.
Raisa knelt down to rinse her face when she heard a twig snapping behind her. She startled and got up quickly checking her surroundings. Nothing. She got up from her spot and went back into the woods to find a young man lying down underneath a tree, face down covered in scratches and had a 5 inch wound on his back that was covered in his own blood bleeding through his black ruffled top. Raisa’s eyes widen to the sight before her as she flew over to the man and tried to wake him up.
“Hey, wake up,” she called out.
The man coughed and lifted his head up from the ground looking up at Raisa with his exhausted cerulean blue eyes that was slightly covered by his long black hair as he reached out to her then collapsed. Raisa carefully carried the young man to the fairy lagoon and placed him down by the ledge of the lagoon.
Raisa slowly removed the man’s shirt revealing his bare torso and his wound on his stomach. Raisa flinched back from the sight of the wound as she cupped her hands, gathered a generous amount of water and poured it onto the man’s wound. The man winced a bit in pain as his wound began to heal, sealing it up and blood began to evaporate. Raisa raised her hands and a light blue aura surrounded her hands then she placed them down onto the man’s torso and a light blue aura surrounded where the man’s wound was and began to heal him. The man opened his eyes slowly looking over at Raisa who was still healing him.
“How beautiful,” he said in a tired tone.
Raisa looked down to see the man looking up at her until her face began to flush beat red. Raisa’s hands stopped glowing as she quickly drew her hands away looking away. The man tried to get up until he felt a sharp pain on his abdomen and fell back down groaning in pain. Raisa placed her hands on his shoulders keeping him down. “Don’t get up, you’re still healing,” Raisa warned.
“What happened? Where am I” the man asked grunting.
“The Fairy Lagoon,” Raisa replied, “You’re lucky to be alive. Who are you?”
“Cian, what’s your name?”
“Raisa.”
Cian got up slowly looking into Raisa’s eyes.
“Raisa, that’s a beautiful name,” he replied.
Raisa turned away blushing after hearing that compliment. Cian tilted his head to the side looking at Raisa smiling gently then leaned up towards her.
“Somehow, I remember you,” Cian said.
“How,” Raisa asked.
“I remember every night when I go into the forest to hunt, I always see a beautiful fairy out by the lagoon every night. When I first saw you under the moonlight, I never thought that I would fall in love with someone so beautiful.”
Raisa’s face turned red, “You think I’m beautiful?”
Suddenly, a scent began to flood his nose. What was that scent? It was something that he had never smelt before. The scent was very pleasant and caused his fangs to elongate as tried to resist his urge to bite Raisa.
“Are you okay,” Raisa asked in a worried tone.
Cian moved closer to Raisa holding her close to his chest as he punctured his fangs into Raisa’s neck. Raisa winced in pain as Cian began to drink from her. Raisa tried to cry out in pain but no sound could escape her mouth except for a few gasps. While Cian continued to feed from Raisa, Raisa suddenly began to feel her heart beating louder and skipping a beat as he held her close to his chest. Raisa wrapped her arms around Cian weakly holding him close to her. Cian released his grip from Raisa’s neck as he licked his lips of Raisa’s blood. Raisa looked at Cian who looked back at her with shock in his eyes seeing what he had done.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” he stuttered.
Raisa grabbed ahold of Cian’s hand stopping him from leaving.
“Don’t go,” Raisa cried, “Don’t go.”
Cian looked away feeling guilt in his subconscious then looked back at Raisa. He brushed Raisa’s hand away from his wrist, walked up to her, placed his hands on her cheeks then slowly leaned in, kissing her lips. Raisa’s eyes widen to what was happening then slowly closed her eyes wrapping her arms around his neck. She had never experienced this before, her mind started to race after Cian broke the kiss off. All Raisa could do was stare at him, her face blushing red, as Cian gently stroked Raisa’s hair. She was still in shock after what had happened to her but felt that she doesn’t want him to leave.
“I...I remember you too,” Raisa stuttered.
“How,” Cian asked in a curious tone.
“Every night I’ve always seen a man out in the forest under the moonlight and when I first saw you. I...I want to know who you are but...I never was able to. For the next couple of years I’ve watched you from a distance, hoping you would see me again, waiting…”
“For?”
“Waiting for you to notice me again…”
“I’ve always noticed you,” Cian smiled gently placing his hand on Raisa’s cheek.
I
“What’s that?”
“It’s gooey!”
“Don’t touch it!”
“I’m gonna touch it with the stick.”
“No!”
“It’s stuck!”
“Drop the stick, drop the stick! Hurry up!”
“It’s on my arm, crawling! Argh!” His friend ran. Leaving behind a gray gelatinous quivering thing.
***
I…I am…
The gelatinous thing changed color. Gray became red, became pink, became flesh tones. Orifices of various sizes opened then formed into eyes, ears mouth and the rest. Consciousness was taken from the boy.
The boy wandered from the woods. His nakedness attracted attention. A mother ushers her children from the backyard as the father walked over with a beach towel; as he placed the towel over the boy’s shoulders, his left hand brushed the boy’s right arm. He was finally noticed by the boy.
“I…” The father tried to separate himself, but the boy’s arm had fused, become one with the father. By the time a scream registered, it was the boy, now a man that was screaming. The father was no more. The creature had progressed and was now headed for the house. The mother had seen everything and was running upstairs for the gun in the closet.
“Get in your bedrooms, now! Lock the door and don’t come out until I get you!” Everyone is running upstairs. Doors slam.
“Honey, stay back. Please, I don’t want to shoot you.” Her eyes were streaming. It was hard to see. She was afraid that she would miss.
“I…”
SERIOUSLY!
I just finished building an explosive
my hands are on the switch board
its such a simple flick
I have no idea why my heart isn't pounding
If I detonate in less than a minute, all that will be left,
is a pile of remains.
Then like a train set in motion
All sorts of thought became vivid
The crumbs of pizza in my mouth grew stronger
"I would definitely love to have a piece right now."
All I have to do is take my right hand off this board.
No, why don't I flick it, its just a click
Oops! It just a knife on my birthday cake.
We still lived in town at the time.
We had to board our horses, Mo and Misty.
Misty was a "Grey" Arabian, a been there done that kind of mare. She was patient and sweet and perfect for my husbands first horse.
Mo was a ranch horse, a beautiful Appaloosa and the horse of my dreams. He was so patient and kind with me, he and I just clicked the day I went to buy him.
We decided to ride out around the lake that day so we headed out, there were tree branches down due to a storm the night before. We were careful but on our way back in, Mo stepped on a small branch just big enough to make him stumble and go down to his knees. Well that sent me I've his head, with my head on the pavement. Mo was a trooper, he stood right over me so nothing could hurt me. My husband tried to wake me, but I was out cold.
Ambulance got there, but they had trouble because Mo at first wouldn't let them have me then when they put me in the ambulance, he tried to load up in there with me!! We really had a bond he and I.
He was fantastic. There will never be another as wonderful as he was.
Behind the Curtain
“What do you mean I can’t go to Howies one hundredth birthday party?”
“No Sir, Doctors orders.”
I eyeballed the Nurse, figuring if I raised a stink they’d take away my morning smoke and walking privileges.
“I’ll be calling my daughter.”
I had kept my Volkswagen Bug stored at my cousin Kurts place. Last I’d seen him he had told me he started it weekly and it sounded good as ever. It had been a couple decades since I’d driven and I wasn’t even quite sure where Howie lived anymore but missing his hundredth was out of the question.
I woke early, telling Chester as I walked outside that it was a day for a two smoke walk. He nodded, “Don’t let the Robins get the better of you.”
The sun was just making its way up over the horizon. Old or not it was still my favorite part of the day. I was a bit worried stealing my own car and if Kurt caught me I’m not certain he would let me drive. He always told me I couldn’t drive when I was normal and I’m guessing senility took away a bit of my edge.
I should have known the old boys would have taken care of everything. Wayne and Kick had the bad boy polished and running as I approached the house. They seemed proud of their work.
“Kurt and Sandy are out suntanning California way. Won’t be back for another week. You need someone to ride shotgun?”
“Is that you Kick? A long time.”
“Wayne called me, said he needed some help. Didn’t have much going and knew Kurt always kept something cold in the fridge.”
Wayne piped in. “Its a bit hesitant going from fourth to fifth. The old lady ain’t been out on the road for awhile. All new belts, ready to roll. Have fun.”
“Kick, you riding shotgun would be a blast but I’m not certain I’d get out of Winona. This is something a man has to do on his own. Say goodbye to an old friend before he joins you.”
I was a week late for the birthday as I started down old highway 61. I noticed some strange looks as cars buzzed past me. I felt thirsty as I drove by Linahans and Twin Bluffs. I started thinking about old times, old friends and that after all the running and crazy stuff we did, we were still friends. I put the pedal to the metal and said what the hell.
Black Ball of Fur
One day, on the park bench next to my house laid this black cat. It didn't have any tags and wasn't very friendly to anybody. I dare try to pet this cat, and it purred at me. So I petted it whenever I came by.
One day, it followed me home. I picked her up and gave her some heated milk. Then I put her in my room.
She seemed to like laying around and sleeping on my bed at anytime of the day. Lounging about and leaving trails of wet paw prints and fur behind. She liked water from the sink and the wet food I fed her.
Then she decided one night while I was sleeping, that it was okay to smush me over to one side of my bed, while she has half the other.
She's my little black ball of fur.