Choking Hazard- Chapter 2
I lay frozen to my bed, unable to move or breathe or yell for help. My body lay encompassed in eternal fear. A small scratching that's increasing in volume makes my heart race into my throat, choking me as I gasp for air. In the corner of the room, a woman stood staring at me--she had a frayed rope tied around her neck, sunken purple eyes, and more bruises than pale skin. Her nightgown bloodied in a messy triangle between her breasts. It looked as though she tried to speak but her words were suffocated by the rope so instead she trudged closer. Every part of my being wanted to move, but nothing did. I'm frozen. She held my neck, taking my life just as hers was taken. It hurt then I woke up. My eyes blurred with frightful tears as I look around to the silent, dark house. I sit up drowsily in search of the women, but it's just me and a sleeping Grayson. The feeling of her hands still lingers on my skin.
"Morning," Grayson mumbled into the pillow, "What are you doing up? It's a quarter before six."
"Trouble sleeping," I drag myself into the bathroom and hurriedly turn on the lights. The dark is not my friend, "How'd you sleep?"
"Great," he popped up behind me, "You look like you slept for days. It's unfair that someone can look this good after waking up."
"Thanks," I tilt my head back so that he can place a kiss on my recently moisturized lips.
We spend an hour getting ready for school before leaving my room. My father stood at the stove tossing pancakes into the cool morning air.
"Hey, dad," I smile, "Where's mom?"
"She got called into work so I stayed behind to make breakfast," he pointed a pancake turner at Grayson who, by now, is standing nervously behind me, "Who's your friend?"
"Grayson Dark," he answered, "We lost track of time with schoolwork last night."
"Plenty of pancakes to go around." My father's sleeve slid up his arm revealing scratch marks. I only saw them for a couple of unnoticeable seconds before he hurriedly shoves it back down. The woman in my dreams had similar marks on her gray arms, I note to myself.
"Neel," Grayson broke my thoughts, "Am I riding you to school?"
"No, I kinda want my dad to ride me. I want to talk."
"Alright."
"Neel, I'm honored. You don't ever want your dad around your friends," he joked.
"You're a cool dad--of course I do."
The three of us sit around a small circular table and talk about the weather and school and everything typical. Grayson heads off first to grab something from his house then my father grabs his work bag.
"Thanks for driving me," I say as I reach the garage door.
"No," he quickly yelled, but quieted down, "Don't go into the garage. It's infested with bugs and your mom doesn't want them in the house," he hurriedly explained.
"Okay," I say slowly and quite confused.
Inside the passenger seat of the car, I look down at my feet to see them among various debris of sticks and fibers. There's a lot I want to say, but nothing comes out like being frozen in the nightmare. I'm scared for some reason. Some part of me wants to open the door and run so before he can even park, I do open the door and bolt into the school. I watch the floor as I walk and as I try to piece together my morning.
"Bro," James jumped in my window of view, "How's it going?"
"Tired.” The largest yawn escapes my mouth before I could try to cover it.
"You're weird dreams again?"
"Yeah," I sigh, "They're so real."
Grayson joined my side like a breath of fresh air, "And troubling. It's been three weeks of non-stop nightmares."
"You'd know," James laughed, "You sleep with him."
I don't respond, "We need to get to homeroom."
Mr. Zaner's calculus was the only interesting part of my school day--I get to witness Grayson being a fool with the teacher and Mr. Zaner laughing his boisterous laugh. Most of everything else blended in with the normalcy and at the same time, the strangeness of this Wednesday. Grayson sneaks in through the back entrance of the house and up to my bedroom where we proceed to procrastinate our homework. He always distracts me.
"Are we that obvious?" I ask, stopping his latest barrage of kisses.
He threw his head back in protest, "Yes."
"You're trouble."
He smiled, "I know."
"Like I should be doing schoolwork right now, but instead I'm with you."
"Well, you didn't stop me nor hesitate to rip my clothes off," he leaned back, sinking into the fluffy cushion.
"I'm not complaining."
"You are."
I roll my eyes, "Grayson--"
"Neel!" my mother yelled, "Get down here."
I hurriedly tossed my clothes on as I stumble down the stairs to see an officer standing in the doorway--his shape outlined on the floor with the shadow of the setting sun. A pile of papers rests tightly in his left hand.
My Son, The Soldier
Shall I, my son, send you away
With a blessing on your head?
Shall I surrender you to war,
'Til it returns you, dead?
Oh! Mary knew the kind of pain
A dear son's blood could bring…
Shall I give up my tender heart
To bitter Worry's sting?
And yet could I, with conscious true,
Tell him to kill what honor grew?
And Honor, could I then let fear
Put enmity between me and you?
Rome in the Light of Dawn
The life of early light had faded
And, I thought, had gone,
Yet only to die a little,
And then spring up again at dawn.
The rosy pallored evening sun
Set Rome aglow in all her splendor,
And every street was a fruitful vine,
Ever ancient, ever tender.
And though I departed, my heart tore.
My home seemed a sparse vine,
And those I love could never know
What I had left behind.
lost
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What day is it?
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Where are my pajamas?
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Why can’t I remember???
