Am I dead? Am I alive? I wish I could know. I hear people speaking above me but my eyes won’t open. It’s like I was buried alive, or someone glued my eyes shut. Mama? Mama is that you? “Hi baby. You can’t hear me, I know. I just wanted to see your beautiful face and explain what’s going on. You aren’t gone yet baby. Keep fighting. If this has become enough for you-” I heard sobs coming from my mother. “You can let go if you need to baby.” I’m right here Mama, please don’t cry. “I miss you honey.” Suddenly I hear beeping and another cry from my Mama saying, “We need a doctor!!” Then some more cries and footsteps rushing in. “Hi Mama.’’

“Look, I’m telling you, just like I told the judge, it wasn’t me! Do I look like a homicidal maniac to you?”

The therapist sighed. “Just tell me… Tell me what you remember.”

“Well, it was dark outside. I had just finished doing the laundry when I heard a scream, and that was it! I got tried and found guilty and now I’m here.”

“You seem to be uncharacteristically calm about it.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, the past is the past.” The man shrugged.

The therapist sighed. He suddenly looked very, very tired. “Look, can I be straight with you? I come talk to you every week, but you don’t remember it.”

“What do you mean? I don’t recall ever meeting you before, today was our first meeting.”

The therapist paused. “You murdered your wife three summers ago, you have all the signs of someone who’s suppressed their memory. In fact, we have this conversation every week.”

“That’s crazy! You’re crazy! I never want to see you here again!”

The therapist only sighed as he walked out. He could only hope that his father would remember him someday.

Every day, after the death of his mother, he never found happiness. Sorrow filled his eyes, nothing else. He only had one thing, the most dreadful tree anyone has ever seen. The tree looked so depressing, no leafs, no green, no buds, no color, only a darken outside. This tree reflected the caretaker, a person that only took care of the tree. Gave it water everyday, was by it’s side rather than anywhere else. As he grew up nothing else went his way, at one point he decided to try to take his life, only to see it necessary to take the tree with him, so he can be accompanied to the heavens, the closest thing to a friend. He started to cut down the tree, only to find the tree sparkle and start shining from its inside. His eyes glazed over the most beautiful timber in the world. One tear fell from his eyes, to him it was the most beautiful gift his mother had gave him, he looked out in the horizon, thinking, “maybe I can still live... but I am no tree”. He clenches the hatchet tighter.

How did this start? I thought to myself. Was it when my little league team lost the soccer match last month? Or maybe when I got my first C? No, It was before then.

It all started when I was born. Mom and Dad always fought over me. Mom said they just loved me too much. Dad said it was Mom’s fault.

Mom wanted me to become a doctor like her father. So, she expected excellent grades. When I said I didn’t want to be a doctor, she said that I did, but I was too young to know. So, I continued.

Dad wanted me to become a soccer player, like himself. So, he expected on time after-school practice. When I said I didn’t want to be a soccer player, he said that he didn’t care, and that it didn’t matter what I wanted. So, I continued.

I tried to please all, and in return, I pleased no one. They started fighting more and more and more, getting more violent every day.

Mom hurt Dad. Dad hurt Mom.

Mom hurt Dad more. Dad hurt Mom more.

Mom hurt Dad most. Mom calls 911.

Flatline.

Her dark tresses, dipped in a luminescent sheen, cascade in waves, in wisps, and in fleeting ephemerality. Her orbs of flecked white, submerged in gray sky, twinkle in secrecy and in tantalizing serenity.

waxing crescent:

Hiccupping sips of a velvety bitterness coax warm, cloudy memories down a tightening throat. The full bottle sloshes—recklessly—in her veins. Aflame kisses of white-then-black nothingness gingerly engulf the backs of her eyelids. She thrives.

full:

The shoreline glimmers: a sea of glowing ember, seared into sparks by heat’s iron fingers. Toes dipped in caramelized sun, she drenches herself in a pearly conflagration, gooey golden rays dripping off her chin. An unused bottle of sunblock rests eternally in the musty trunk of her towed car; still, she’s gleaming.

waning crescent:

A blistering stench clings to the mottled carpet. The yawning curtain inhales a thin veil of sunset, the blunt light sharply piercing the fluttering tufts of smoke. A burnt-out cigarette clenches beneath her pout, her frosted eyes winking in syrupy fatigue. She’s fading.

new:

Diluted darkness. A shattered fragile glow.

Starry remnants dotting the impalpable air.

A last glimpse of her dark tresses, then she disappears from view.

“Look’s like there’s no moon today.”

Pounding.

That’s all I hear. Thumping, hammering, pounding. My eyes squint open, only to squeeze shut again. The diatonic white was revolting. I can’t stand white. White is pure, white is innocent, white is clean, white is safe. I am not safe and I am not innocent. Not anymore. I feel—nothing. There is nothing left for me to feel anymore. I am empty….a shell of what, of who, I used to be. But I hear, everything, all the cruel, callous, licentious images They evoke. There is nothing left of me, I don’t know why I’m still here. They have taken everything from me, my life, my will, my identity. Who am I? —Even I don’t know anymore?

The air shatters and I jerk, my eyes jolting open, disrupting me from my inner monologue. I haven’t heard a sound so shocking since....since I don’t remember. I brush it off as the sound of another one, like me, that They have taken. Then, in the distance, I hear a faint disturbance. What could it be, is this my sign? And from that muffled sound a spark of hope blossoms deep within.

What comes to mind when you hear the term “yo-yo”?  Fun? Joy? A child’s toy? A Chinese yo-yo with its wooden sticks?

Whenever I hear it, I feel pain…

3:14 pm

Monday, December 5th, 2016

Meyer Auditorium, Huron High School

Talent Show Dress Rehearsal

My dance team was seated, waiting to perform. Around us were other groups eager to showcase their talent. One such group was “APEX Yo-Yo.” They were behind us, practicing for their act.

I turned to talk to my coach, “Hey--”

Bang! Everything went black.

***

I opened my eyes. Everything seemed normal. Almost everything. My friends were still on their phones. Groups on stage were still performing. The music was still blaring. Or was it? All I heard was an incessant buzzing. I looked down to see a large Chinese yo-yo at my feet and looked up to come face-to-face with its owner. His lips seem to be moving but I couldn't hear him. He patted me on the shoulder and walked away with his yo-yo. I tried to get up. I failed. I tried to talk. I failed. I tried to feel my nose. I failed. I felt nothing but absolute pain.

Blood flooded my mouth, a release of the tension in my jaw that led my teeth to rip open the same scar every week like clockwork. It mingled with the sharp scent of freshly mown grass and uniformly trimmed tulips. I mustered up my courage in the mid-May breeze, relaxed my jaw, and rang the door way.

“Janie Maria!”

Grandma had been greeting me the same way since I could remember. It was just Janie, but I had no desire to protest. The familiar scents of baking wafted out of the house towards me, welcoming me inside.We drank tea from fine china and discussed both big ideas and small occurrences. I ran my tongue over the scar inside my mouth and promised myself that this time, when Mom came back from shopping to pick me up, I would not allow her to make a scene.

But soon our hour was up. I heard the minivan pulling up in the driveway, the scrap of tires on gravel, and the slamming of the door. Five minutes later, I watched the carefully cared-for tulips disappear in the rearview mirror.

My person has been in bed all day; she does this sometimes.  She’s up now, although in slow motion.  Her eyes are red and puffy, oppressed by dark circles.  My person sits, writing a note: “I’m sorry.”  I jump onto the table, and rub my face on her hand; she scratches me under my chin and I purr.  I then get pushed away.  She’s in the bathroom now, hunched, withered over the cold sink.  It’s quiet. I hear only the sounds of inhaling and exhaling--the physical symptoms of being alive.  I let out a mew while examining my person’s bowed back, and she looks up to the mirror where our eyes meet against its surface.  Her gaze drifts, but she avoids looking at herself.  The light flickers off an object she holds to her wrist, and she pauses.  Something’s dripping in the sink, but the faucet isn’t on.  Each breath becomes more hesitant, until she’s on the floor tile and it ceases.  I rub my face against her cold fingers and sniff the pools staining the grout; inhaling the grungy, metallic scent.  I leave the bathroom, looking back at the crimson trail that stalks my every step.

was just a brief moment. A brief moment in time. It was just one, brief, moment, when all life was created. And in that one brief moment, just one brief moment, her tears fell. For in that brief moment, she saw countless worlds thrust into existence. In that brief moment, just one brief moment, the universe formed, planets of multicolored hues burst into life, light spiraling outward from the core. Stars erupted, and blossomed from tiny buds to enormous flowers of life. Comets grew from small pebbles into huge hunks of golden stone, trailing light and sparkles in their wake. Planets spiraled outwards in their flow of creation, forming galaxies that shimmered and glowed softly. All it took was one moment, for the vast expanses of space to be formed, and for her to bask in the radiance of the universe she had created. All it took was one moment, one angel, and one wish, to jump start this massive explosion of life. She could feel waves of pure happiness emanating from her, and her heart was overcome with joy at seeing the worlds born before her. And all it took, all it ever takes, is one, brief, moment.