I run. I run and don't stop, gunshots fly near my head, ripping through my clothes. I can almost see it now: the great, world's edge, glowing gold. I can sense it’s power. Suddenly I stop, I’ve arrived. Below me, the most lush jungle canopy stares up at me. Every single shade of green in their leaves. Suddenly, I hear a bang and feel a shockwave push through my shoulder. I’ve been shot, but I can’t feel anything, just a strange wave of euphoria. I feel two more shockwaves. Then I feel myself begin to fall. I see the insides of the golden pit, the greens of the canopy slowly become more clear. I don’t feel any pain as a I hit the ground. As I look around, I see everything I ever dreamed of, all in the End of the World.
Epilogue:
"Ahh!" I gasp, wet from the water poured on me by my general; it was a dream. “Today’s the big day boys! Time to go fight.” Only a few grumble. Right as the gunfire starts, I feel myself being dragged towards the gold edge. Sprinting. Stopping. Three gunshots later, I’m falling, and I hit the ground. Again.
1987, scrunchies on my wrists and a crimping iron in my hand. I could feel the iron's heat touching my skin as I stared at my faded mirror. I was halfway through kinking my hair before I see a dimmed face appear in front of me. I dropped the iron onto the floor and the crusty carpet started to smoke and I didn't even notice.
Minutes pass, still, I stare. The face is still there. I was frightened by it. It had short blonde hair, touching the right and left side of her chin. Her blue eyes staring back at me. She blinked every time I did. It was like I was staring in a mirror. That's when it came to me, it was me. I was scared of myself.
“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.”-Dr.Seuss
Jalousie
Noun
- a blind or shutter made of angled slats
- jealousy
Francia’s mind was made up. The new neighbor was unlikeable. From the beginning, her moving truck groaned along the road. Her garden smelled too strongly. Yet, that was not the worst part.
The woman installed blinds. Cheap-looking, they cranked open and close, jarring among the culdesac’s row of curtains. When they opened, Francia caught glimpses of the ignorant life within. The woman always had her makeup perfectly done, her hair fell in layers, her skirts crisp. Here was a woman, a house across, yet in her own world of perfection amidst being a wrongdoer.
Francia could no longer take it. She knocked on the neighbor’s door, but was invited in with a wide smile. She was so lonely, the woman exclaimed. Over the next hour, the woman (Julie) poured her heart out to Francia, who silently nodded as Julie recounted her painful divorce. “He cheated,” she sobbed. Francia stared at her flawless hair and murmured.
Next week, Julie received a note from the Homeowners’ Association. Her blinds had been brought to their attention. They must be taken down, the note read, or she would be facing severe fines.
I enter the glass building. Though I appear calm and collected, adrenaline courses through me. I am about to discover why I still exist.
I make my way to the elevator and press the 'up' button. The doors whoosh open. I step inside and try to calm my racing heart as the smell of wood polish assaults my nose. I listen to the quietly jingling music as I drift upwards, stopping at the eighth floor. I step out and go to apartment 8465. I knock, and upon hearing a quavery voice announce, “Come in,” I emerged through the door.
I found myself in a large room with floral wallpaper, comfy armchairs everywhere, and a light blue carpet. A fire is in the fireplace, and two chairs are set up in front of it. I sit across from the occupant of the other chair. She is an elderly woman, who seems to be frail, but I know better, and have the bruises to prove it. Her name is Sarah.
Sarah takes a deep breath and begins to tell her story.
She could feel her eyes sink into the back of her skull. The venomous words that whispered their way through her mama’s mouth twisted around her neck, making her gasp for air she didn’t know she was loosing. “The meat has finished aging. Sell her.” Seven words sealed her fate, sending her down to the slaughter houses. The demons would peel her flesh, suck her skin dry, lap the thickly laced fear from her body.
In a dark hallway lay a horror struck girl, a wooden door separated her from her Mother, the meat seller. Blood pounded in the girl’s ears, it was spilling, she was already dead. The claws of the demons were ripping at her clothes, tearing away her life; was this even life she was living? Born and raised as human meat.This was not life, but only a fantasy of false hope. She would be gone in minutes, Mama would gently coax her into the “adoption” room, her mama would hand her over.
Footsteps could be heard. The door slithered open, a sliver of light squeezed through. Mama’s eyes pinpointed her location. Her elongated tongue brushed her teeth as she spoke. “Happy Birthday, my dear child.”
"It sure is dark in here," I said as I rolled from side to side. Finally, we stopped moving. A zipper opened, and light streamed into the pouch where I resided. A hand reached in and grabbed me. I was placed on a tee. It was a sunny morning, and I saw mowers mowing the fairways. I heard practice swings being made, then the club face rested behind me.
"Hit me straight this time!" I shouted, although no one could hear me. The club slammed into me and I soared through the air. This was my favorite moment, seeing the whole golf course in its glorious entirety. I descended, and hit the fairway hard, bouncing a couple of yards.
I heard footsteps approaching. The club face hovered behind me. The club whipped back, and came forward swiftly. I was carried high into the air, but I saw trouble right away. I started going left toward the lake, the golfer had made a bad swing. I landed with a splash!
Well, it was fun while it lasted.
"Oh! Hi Bob. How long have you been here?" I asked the golf ball next to me.
There once was a planet full of life. Although, it took some work to get to the point where you could proudly call it a ‘planet full of life’.
To become the ‘planet full of life’ the planet first made the supplies that life will need, but you can’t just leave something in the open. You’ll have to protect it.
The planet made a shield to protect the supplies from negative things outside of the planet, but even if you have safely secured supplies, there’s no point if it’s not getting used.
The planet made life. This made it a ‘planet full of life’ until one type of intelligent creature came along.
The creatures wanted more then what they were given.
The creatures used the supplies that they were given to make weapons. They used the weapons to hurt and take things from each other.
The creatures killed other creatures. Why? Because they felt better than them.
They destroyed the shield of the planet, and pretended that it wasn’t a problem. It all led to their own destruction. Soon, the ‘planet full of life’ was gone.
There’s still time to change this story. You have the power to do so.
The light of the screen stings my eyes.
“Loading…”
Crooked white words stand out against the black background.
“START” appears in bold under the white words.
For the best experience, turn off all lights and lock the door. Increase your volume.
I do as instructed, and press START.
Do you know any martial arts?
I click no.
Please take note of the following facts:
Only 33.49% of people who start this test finish.
17.81% may get a phobia or disease resulting in death.
We are not responsible.
Do you understand?
I click yes.
We shall now begin The Survey.
Answer all questions truthfully.
Are you alone?
Yes.
How would you feel if I were to rip out all your fingernails?
...
Look behind you. Am I there?
…
Four black words appear on the now white screen.
Do you forgive me?
Another three words.
Please forgive me.
The survey isn’t letting me click no. An invisible force drags my mouse toward Yes.The screen changes again.
Ring Around the Rosie
Pocket full of Posies
Ashes, Ashes we all fall down.
We all fall down.
We all fall down.
A scream echoes through my headphones.
It’s only a game...right?
Last play. Last chance for our team to have ultimate glory. He furiously calls the play, spit spewing out of his mouth. “Blue 27. Got it?”
I nod and run back to the field. I glance at the scoreboard, which says 13-7. I say to my teammates, “Coach says Blue 27. Blue 27!”
We all go to our designated positions. Snap. The ball comes flying into my hands. I wind up and throw it long to my receiver. I must be nervous, since the ball goes at least five feet short. My heart sinks, but the receiver dashes forward and scoops the ball right before it hits the ground. The other team’s linemen stream towards him, fast as an eagle swooping for prey. Somehow he jukes the first lineman, then the second. Then I see the third, and I know that he won’t be able to dodge this time.
What happened next is so surprising, that if I weren’t there, I wouldn’t have believed it.. The third lineman somehow missed the tackle while the receiver tripped over his own feet.The football flew out his hands. Now, it was anyone’s ball.
My house is full of old things that I never threw away. I was always scared of losing them and not having them when I needed to. That was silly. Why would I need garbage?
When I walk across my floor, I trip over empty containers and books I’ve already read. I cut my feet on legos and step over stuffed animals I’ve outgrown. I start to hate myself for being so clingy. And then I hate myself for hating myself. But something catches my eye in the pyre of my old things. A stuffed animal pig with worn ears and dirty hooves. She used to be my best friend. I remember how we climbed on the roof together in the summer and danced in the rain in the spring. I held her close when I jumped in the pile of autumn leaves and skated with her on our frozen pond.
I pick up my old friend and set her on the mantel above the burning fireplace. And while I think of our good times, I give an old piece of garbage to the flames.