Monday, September 28, 2015

I Don't Know

So, an assignment I had for Creative Writing was to write a 100 word story using only 1 syllable words. I had wrote this first but decided to go with the other one because I really want to develop this into a story. Even though it's pretty shitty (I know, it's okay) right now, I think it may work one day as a story. So until I finish the story, I'll keep this shitty short story on the blog. 

As I sit here and wait for dawn to break and for the night sky to sigh bye.
Tears well and my cheeks puff red like a big red bean.

I don’t want him here.
I cry, I sigh.

He cracks my mind and makes me think about the things I don’t want to know.
I don’t want to know my fears, the things that scare me the most.

“You feel marred in your core”

“Be gone, leave!”

“I can’t.”


“You will hurt yourself.”

“Please just let me be.”

“Don’t hurt yourself”


“For when you do, you hurt me”

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

No Way Out (A Short Story) ****Trigger Warning*****

I’m not pretty, I mean, not by societal standards at least. Wait- but whose standards are what standards, and what standards are societies...wait, what? I lose my train of thought as wisps of drab brown hair find its cozy place inside the whites of my eyes. I use my stumpy dials to push the intrusion to their rightful place on my ruddy cheeks. I always say that I need to cut my hair but then I wouldn’t be able to hide. My mucky mane is like a curtain, shielding me from the world, keeping me in, pushing them out.
“Ping!” The elevator screeches, awakening me from my thoughts. Looking towards Hades as usual, I slowly shuffle into the elevator with slumped shoulders and stiff legs. I watch as my combat boots lazily move right...then left. Right...then left. Right...then left. I notice the fray at the end of one of the shoelaces. Imperfect like me, lacks perfection, like she. The right-left shuffling motion ceases as I find myself towards the back of the elevator. I drag my head up to push my fat stumps against number nineteen, the last stop. My last stop. My eyes try to focus on the dim fluorescent square next to nineteen. I lose the battle when the ugly yellow light blurs with the cool silver of the elevator. My face heats, my breath deepens. I shake my head in attempts to rid myself of these foolish emotions...every emotion. Now is NOT the time…I’m almost free. The doors begin its slow trek of reuniting with one another. Right before their final kiss, I hear a rushed “Wait!” coming from the other side. I quickly tap the close button in successions of threes. As the doors close, I let out a very relieved sigh. I need to be alone. I really need these last moments to myself.
“Ahh, almost missed it,” I look up to see the ancient elevator doors creek open to let some stranger into my spaceship, transporting me to my final destination. My mouth voluntarily opens in awe, disgust even. He smiles at me, I look down. Fuck. He looks away. His body shifts away from me, from she. Good! Since he's already pegged me for a social pariah, there won't be any need for trivial conversation.
My body shakes in sync with the elevator as it stirs to life. I close my eyes as the old box halts and shakes a little past each floor. *One* grumble, *three* grumble, *seven* grumble, *ten* grumble. I feel myself let out a sigh of relief as we enter double digits. Almost there…near my liberation. *Eleven* grumble, *twelve* grumble, *fourteen* grumble, croak, clash! My eyes swing open as I feel my body being lurched towards the ground. My boney body collides with the itchy, carpeted floor, hard! I feel the elevator shift downwards one more time. This time my head meets the metal of the elevator with a neuron shattering thunk. The room begins to dim. My mind follows en suite.
I groggily awaken to a heavy sensation on my chest. I survey my surroundings. I am lying in my childhood bedroom. The hot pink wallpaper is masked by the darkness of night. Night is when I'm supposed to be a good girl, the best girl. To be the best girl, you must be quiet. You mustn't cry out, even if it hurts. The heavy palm is deep in my underdeveloped breasts. The meaty hand pumps hard into my chest. "Wake the fuck 
up", he screams his equivalent to mommy’s 'Good morning, my sunshine'. "Please, please be okay", wait---he's never said please before. "Come on, wake up!” he pleads. Now I know that this cannot be him, he'd never beg, he never asks. Is this even my bedroom?
My eyes flutter open for real this time. It reveals deep, dark nothingness. I gasp loudly and sputter a bit as a heavy palm continues to pry into my chest.
"Get off of me", I try to say, but my voice is so strained, it ends up turning into a cough. My chest feels lightened when the heavy hand floats away from my body.
"Thank God", I hear someone exclaim.
"Wh-where am I?" I sound, this time making out the words properly. I look around to try to gauge my surroundings, but the only thing besides the lack of light is the small fluorescent red 'EXIT' sign.
"The elevator", the stranger says. "You hit your head so hard, I actually thought I’d lost you”. The recent memories come flooding back to me, the cool silver elevator, the intrusive stranger, number nineteen, the clash, the smash. I attempt to stand up but the immense pressure on my lobe informs me that, that wouldn't be possible.
"I wasn't yours to lose". My attempt to sound stern fails when my voice betrays me and cracks.
"I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to--"
"And why the hell were you touching me?!" I remember. This time my voice does what I want it to. "If you thought I was a fucking corpse, why the in the world would you try feeling me up", I am fuming.
"But I-", he tries.
"I don't know what kind of freaky shit you’re into but I'm not dead yet. I refuse to be invisible! You can't just come in here and--"
"I was trying to save your life", he bites back. His voice stops me in my tracks. His intensity gives me chills. I shake. I turn away from the voice in attempts to get back to she. My legs draw up towards my chest, my head drifts to my knee, and my arms make an X tightly across my body, forming a cocoon. I am now she, no longer me. A translucent butterfly floating away from this elevator, away from this stranger. Away, away a--.
CREeeakkkk, the screeching elevator loudly pierces my eardrum. My eyes pop open and my X is torn from me as I brace myself for the impact. Once the sound ends, the room is haunted by silence.
"Shit", I hear the stranger say, breaking the noiseless room. I ignore him as I begin to draw my walls back up. "Look", he says in a tired, nearly apologetic voice. "Our first impression wasn't that great, but this may become our last impression as well". He pauses, waiting to see if I'd interject. I say nothing, but I do listen. Something in his voice makes me want to hear this. Sincerity, maybe? I can't be sure because it's been a while since I've heard that tone myself, but I am almost positive he is being genuine. I turn toward his voice with the intent of giving him my full attention. He clears his throat. "If I am correct with my assumption, then I'd like to get to know who I'll be dying with".
My eyes dart to the dim glow of the "EXIT" sign, wishing that there actually was one. The room turns into a state of awkward silence. He crushes it again with his deep cherry oak voice. He sits.
"Well, I'll uh, I guess I'll start. Bradley, my name is Bradley, Brad for short 
and I had what some would say the perfect life." His voice is nostalgic.
"I grew up a privileged all American asshole. I, well my family, had the big houses, the fancy cars, and all of the material shit that their privileged hearts desired.”
Why is he telling me this, why must we converse. Still, I sit quietly trying my best to stay me and not she.
“Back then I was like them and I definitely did not hesitate to show it off. So, you can imagine that my social life was never lacking. For some reason rich and asshole mix together so well", he chuckles an empty laugh.
"In college nothing changed. Friends, pussy, and parties, in that order. That was my college experience", another 'laugh'.
“And then, it ended”. He takes a deep breath. When his voice returns it is eerie. Although I am fully attentive now, I am also prepared to flee.
"I was in my junior year. I was partying harder than ever before. Then one night, it caught up to me."
I feel shaking, but this time it wasn't coming from the elevator.
 “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never talked about this before and if we do die, I need to get this off of my chest.”
I wait for him to be ready. I wait for the shaking to subside and his thrashing heartbeat to die down.
He takes a loud, nourishing breath before he continues. "I met this girl at a party and long story short, she accused me of rape. My parents paid a settlement and haven’t spoken to me since. The last thing my old man said to me was, ‘You have dishonored my corporation.’”
My body turns to ice. I am frozen, unable to move. He senses this, I know he does, but he remains silent. He moves his body closer to mine. I have no way out, I never did. I prepare myself for the unwanted advances and the painful thrusts of despair. I snap my eyes shut; I desperately try to get back to she. I'm floating, I'm floating, I--.
"I didn't do it", he whispers, his breath hot on my ear. He backs up. “She needed money, my family had that."
I am still tense, but I remove the cloak, allowing myself to return to the elevator.
"My uncle didn't do it either", I breathlessly utter.

"Wait, wh-"
"He had fallen on hard times so he was staying with us". Now that I have started I can't stop. This really may be the last time I get the chance to say it, tell it all.
‘"He ended up staying for four years. I was six. I didn't believe in monsters until then. My monster came at night, after lights out. He called those nights our 'pillow talks'. As our 'talks' went on, the smiles, my smiles began to fade. At first it was only mild touching, and light caressing on the outside. Then one night he said 'Mary, let's explore!' It began with one finger, then two, and then three. When his grimy fingers were inside me, he would stir and stir and stir. Then he would grunt and leave me alone.”
I close my eyes, not to escape this time but to grab that excruciating memory so that I could finally give it, its long awaited burial. I gather my courage, my pain, and my fear all into one nourishing breath and speak my truth. My mouth trembles as the memory pushes its way onto the tip of my tongue, my teeth, and finally my lips.
"I think...I think that I was about eight. Uncle had been living with us for a while now, which meant I had become accustomed to our thrice weekly 'pillow talks'." I pause, gathering my waning strength. I have been dead so long, Lord please revives me through my tale.
"As sick as it sounds I had actually grown fond of our time together. Uncle was always gentle and kind, even though the acts he were performing were not. The fact that I started looking forward to our 'talks' solidified that I was in this too.
'Remember Mary', he would coo in the sweetest voice you've ever heard on a man, 'this is our little secret'. 'Can you be a good little girl and keep it a secret?' He would squeeze my little hands tight until I agreed. So, I always did. I would gather my little bobble head and always shake a robotic yes. I could never say no to Uncle. Grown-ups are always right.”
This is it; I think to my self, I am finally letting go. I gather my waning courage into one sharp breath.
“ One weekend, my parents went on their annual anniversary trip. Unbeknownst to them, they had entrusted a monster to watch their baby girl.
'Mary get up', he says as he barges into my room late one night. I don't move. I pretend to be asleep. I don't feel like talking tonight, I miss mommy and daddy too much.
'Wake the fuck up I said!' he explodes. I scramble out of my bed scared to death. He has never yelled at me before, certainly never sworn. My toes are on the cool hardwood floor. I am shaking like a leaf, terrified of what's to come. Without warning the lights turn
on. My little eyes snap shut in response to the harsh change.
'Take off your clothes', his voice is menacingly low. My huge hazel portals look up towards his. Besides my trembles, I am frozen. I cannot move, only look.
'Now!' His barks awaken my limbs. I glide off my Elmo nightgown in one swift move. I see his hand move towards his faded black jeans. His hand moves in a circular motion near his zipper. He gestures towards my lower half,
"That too", he says hungrily.
My tiny arms move towards my chubby eight-year old legs. I lower my pale pink underwear to the floor.
"Umph", he grunts.
He looks me over greedily before he stalks over to me. He hoists me up into his arm and slams me hard onto the bed. I scream out in immense pain. He doesn't seem to care, and at that moment, I realize that he never did.
My eyes are looking at his hands as he fumbles around with his belt buckle. 'Click'. His jeans release a slithering one-eyed snake. It captivates me as it inches towards the sky, seemingly growing in length. Magic. He lowers himself so that he is directly on top of me. His full weight is crushing me into smithereens.
'Mary, be a good girl for me you little bitch'. He thrusts.
'Ahhhh-', I scream out as I feel a fire near me belly, burning me from the inside, out. For the first time ever Uncle looks at me in the eye, as if he is really seeing me for once. Maybe he is realizing that I am only a little girl, his little niece. That thought is quickly thrown out as I see the fire from my belly move into his eyes. He uses his full force to slap me hard across the face. My head collides with the backboard of my bed. The room begins to spin and the lights are slowly fading away. In my last few moments of consciousness, I hear him trying to convince me…trying to convince himself, 'You like it you little cunt, don't fucking lie', he bellows 'yea you love this shit'.
I feel him pumping harder into my little body, breaking me in half, cutting me into pieces. Then, I begin to float into a colorful kaleidoscope. The more I float, the farther I go. So, I float, I float...I fly."
I take in a deep breath and exhale. In the breath, I am not just releasing air. I am finally able to release my childhood scars, the pain, his torture. I feel a single tear slowly roll down my left cheek. My truth has finally been released.
"Wow", he says, sounding breathless. "".
"You clearly aren't a word connoisseur', I say amused. I begin to laugh. It starts out as a low chuckle but quickly turns into a loud belly aching roar. I am hooting, snorting, guffawing and snuffling. From the other side of the elevator I hear him join in. For no apparent reason, we cackle until we are struggling to breathe. We are still enjoying a case of the funnies when the elevator light flickers on. This causes us both to pause and collect ourselves. I turn towards him and for the first time, I really look at him. He has
 mop of curly red hair on the top of his head and His creamy porcelain skin is a backdrop for all of his intrusive freckles. They splatter like abstract art across his body. Tufts of ginger hair escape from his collar. His smile wanes down as I realize that he is studying me as intensely as I am studying him.
And for once, I do not care I let him look. I let myself be visible.
Our eyes connect and I find myself hypnotized by his gaze. The portals of his soul are a deep, dark entrancing blue. They are like a watery whirlpool floating on a light, airy cloud.
"I was serious when I said that I didn't do it", he confides in me. I leave the elevator in complete silence to let his words sink in before I make my next move.
"I know."

His lips curl upwards and his blue eyes sparkle, "You are the first person who believed me, not even my parents did. Thank-you for that."
*Grumble* *Croak* *Rise*.
Before I get a chance to respond the elevator is revived. The numbers sixteen and nineteen begin to glow again.
"Number nineteen, isn't that the roof?” he questions.
"Why were you-", he stops.
He gets it.

"So, what was on floor sixteen for you?’ I ask.
He chuckles, "A court mandated job interview, which I think I missed by now". I watch him as he stands up revealing his staggering height. He looks down on me with those electric blue, soulful eyes.
"You know, believing that I was on the verge of death and revealing my darkest secret to a stranger has made me pretty hungry. Care to go out for dinner and"
I giggle at the thought, "Haven't we talked enough?"
"No", he answers seriously.
He reaches out his hand to help me off the ground. I study the creases, arches, and lines colliding in his palm. I am not sure when the last time someone offered their hand to me...or the last time I accepted. I continue to gaze at his hands as he waits patiently at the door for me, no longer she, but me to trust him. My hand begins to rise up a bit, moving slowly through the air. My fingers shake as they begin to inch my hand towards his. Right before our dials intertwine in a grasp of trust, we are interrupted by a shrieking "Ping!'

A Drink Called Lonliness

“May I have one more?”
I give her gin, straight.

Her head is aimed at the door.
Her smoke stick is on its last leg.
It has dimmed from red to black.
It is her fourth since 9:00pm.
It is 9:45pm.

Her eyes are red. Is she sad, mad, or a mix of the two?

The door swoops open.
Her head darts towards the door.

A tear makes her left cheek moist.

She is sad.

She gulps her gin and walks towards a stray man in the crowd.

She flirts.
She smiles.
She leaves with him.

She is still….sad. 

This is an assignment for my Creative Writing 284 class. The challenge was to write a story in 100 words and using one syllable only. 

Monday, September 7, 2015

My vision is blurred. My breath slowly wanes away as I feel my fingers halt in their final resting position. “Mom…MOMMA!” my daughter shouts. Her smooth skin presses against my soft, withered cheek. A warm, salty liquid seeps into my mouth as she sobs against me.
Why is she sad?
The love of my life was born many moons ago on a sweltering summers night. The fleece from my baby girl’s blanket sticks to my sodden skin as I hold her for the first time. Her cheeks flush as she lets out a lethargic yawn. I giggle and place my finger in her delicate palms. She tightly grips my finger, her brow furrows, and at that moment her eyelids pop open and I really see her for the first time. In her sable brown eyes, I see my love. My soul evaporates into hers and we are one. With one glance, she has healed my deepest of wounds and rid me of my long held insecurities. I have lived through hell and at this moment heaven is in my arms.
So, baby girl why are you sad?  

Don’t be sad by the life I am leaving; rejoice because you gave me a life to live.