I’m Suffocating

They want me to believe.

But I just can’t.

I try.

I try so hard.

But it’s never good enough.

They want more.

 

Sing more.

Pray more.

Read the bible more.

But I don’t have it in me.

And because of that,

I feel so guilty.

 

Guilty that I can’t be,

What they want me to be.

That I just can’t help,

But be skeptical.

But they don’t seem to understand,

That I’m suffocating.

 

They want me to believe.

They shove it down my throat.

But I can’t swallow,

I can’t breathe.

I’m dying to believe.

But even that’s not good enough.

Tall Black Trees

We enter the abandoned theme park hesitantly. It’s foggy and damp. I try and focus on my breathing to distract myself from our surroundings. But the more I focus on my breathing the more uneasy it becomes. I try and focus on something else hoping Anna won’t notice. It was way creepier than how people described it back at school. My classmates made it seem easy. I guess that was what they intended to make themselves seem tougher than they actually were.

I glance to Anna who is walking beside me. Her bright pink dress stands out from our gray surroundings. Her frizzy hair bounces a little since she has a skip in her step.  Her countenance is one of defiance and mischief. But I also notice that her neck is stiff and her arms don’t swing like they usually do. She’s trying to seem laid back but she’s just as scared as I am.

We walk past the tattered tents that were left here when the park closed down. There’s litter strewn on the ground. There are weeds everywhere too.

“See? It’s not that bad, Emma.” Anna smiles at me but I can see she’s the one looking for reassurance. I can’t give it to her so I just nod.

The park has been abandoned for around five years. No one really cared until two years ago when someone had disappeared around here. She had been around sixteen. She had gone out to take a run. She was expected back home thirty minutes later. She didn’t come back in thirty minutes. The police searched for her and said that the last time someone drove by and saw her was when she was passing the abandoned theme park. The police continued to search for evidence but nothing came up until a year later. A few of her remains were found but as far as the town knew no leads were found from them. The killer was still on the loose. But since then no other cases like this ever occurred again. After that the rumors started. The abandoned theme park was haunted and other cliché rumors. A lot of kids came here now for thrills. It became sort of a rite of passage for us. You would go in, walk around, come out, and suddenly your status went up a few points, actually a lot of points because not many people did it.

But Anna and I chose to do it. We figured if we did it together it would be easier. We would look out for one another. We always did.

---

We both ran like crazy making sure not to stray from the path and from each other. I couldn’t hear any footsteps behind us but that didn’t mean there weren’t any there.

It had happened very quickly.

We had gone deep into the park. We were about to turn back when we heard a rustling noise. We had both stopped listening to any other noises that were not our own. The whole world seemed to stand still and the trees surrounding us suddenly seemed taller and darker. I looked into the tents and I stared at the shadows. Suddenly I had heard Anna scream. I had never heard her scream that way before. I saw her begin to run and I did too. But right as I did I saw what she had seen moments before. There was a man dressed all in black. His face was just like any other face. But his skin was paler than death and his lips were blood red. But they were his eyes that scared me. They are a pure black. They’re complete darkness and I knew that we couldn’t be caught by him. So we run.

The park blurs around us as we run as fast as we can. The fear is too great to describe. It surges through me. I can feel it in my fingertips. My footsteps are heavy and they hurt the soles of my feet. Air doesn’t seem to reach my lungs quickly enough and soon my vision blurs too. I’m tired but I can’t stop. We pass a broken popcorn machine. I remember passing it earlier. We’re more than half way to the entrance, well now it’s the exit. It’s also salvation. I know that if we reach it we’re safe. I don’t know how I know it but I know it.

I’m panting hard and then the world shifts around me. The trees become even taller than before and all I can see is the dirt. I cough up dirt that’s in my mouth. I try to get up again but pain shoots through my leg.

“Anna!” I cry. She comes back to me, reaches her hand out and helps me up. The feeling of her hand in mine is pure relief. We both run until we reach the exit and keep running down the road until we’re back in town. From there it blurs and I find myself back on the ground, still in the old theme park.

The thing is she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t come back, she doesn’t help me up, and I don’t reach the exit. I don’t reach salvation.

All I see is her frizzy, curly hair run ahead into the fog. Her bright pink dress quickly turns into a dot in the distance. She doesn’t even look back. She just keeps on running.

I’m abandoned like everything else in this theme park.

Now I hear the footsteps behind me. I thought they would come quickly. But they don’t. They bide their time. It’s like they’re soaking in the moment. I slowly turn onto my back. The pain in my leg is unbearable.

He stands above me. I’ve never seen a ghost or anything of the kind. I’ve never seen anything like that. But I swear he’s the grim reaper. The grim reaper is standing over me. His eyes look hungry. Even when he is over me he is as tall and as black as the trees.

The Hollow Figure

I could see it in her eyes. They were dark and her eyelids always seemed too heavy for her to bear, just like her shoulders. I pleaded. I begged her to tell me what was wrong, what had happened. But she never said a word. At first she had just seemed quiet and then she seemed blue. Then the conversation was limited to small talk, and then just “hello” and “goodbye.” Now, not even that was said. Her pain seemed so great I couldn’t even bear it. I felt like I needed to be the one to save her. I tried to encourage her to do new things with me, like go to restaurants we’ve never been to before, or trips to places we had never seen. But nothing worked. I felt like I was drowning. I felt that there was no hope to reach the surface again.                       

I feel guilty because sometimes I get those thoughts, saying that I hate her and that I want to leave. I want to leave her and her problems and to finally be able to breathe again. Sometimes I want to strangle her, I want to choke her real self into coming out from her throat, out of the deep crevice she was trapped in. I always imagine her skin underneath my hands. I want to feel the movements of her throat as she struggles to breath. I want her to scream, to claw, to gasp. I want her to do something. But I love her too much to do anything like that to her.                                                                                                                                                       

  Each day I look at the hollow figure that used to be my wife. I still found her so beautiful. I still loved her soft skin and her rich hair. I remember I used to love her eyes. They were a brighter blue than I had ever seen before. God, they were clear. They were like windows and I swear if you looking into them enough you would see a deep part of her and of yourself as well.           

I wanted to look into her eyes but they weren’t the same anymore. They were dead, clouded over by some darkness that I couldn’t see and couldn’t understand.                                               

  I still had so much hope for her. She didn’t seem to have any idea of what she was capable of, how many talents she had. I would always compliment her but she would only looked down at the floor and nod slightly, not believing what I said in the least.                                            

  “Please tell me,” I would beg her. But she would look at me sadly. I could tell she was feeling tortured inside. I wanted to help her so bad. I wanted to help her for her. I wanted to help her for me. She had tears in her eyes but she kept them in. she strained so hard not to cry. I couldn’t understand it. Why couldn’t she just let go and cry? Why couldn’t she just tell me? Why couldn’t she just come alive again?                                                                                                        

  She loves me, I know it and not in the “I’m-in-denial” way. I know she does. I can see it when I ask her what’s wrong. I can see it when she wants to cry. I can see it in the little things. But I can’t help but feel that the little things just aren’t good enough anymore. I feel so selfish. I should be patient and caring and do everything in my power to help her. But I just can’t anymore. I’m so tired. I’d just like to go to sleep for a very long time.

                                     

---

                                                                                                          

            It’s early in the morning. She’s eating at the table. No, she’s not eating… just sitting, staring off at something I can’t see. Sometimes I wonder if she’s even seeing anything at all. I doubt it. I think she just sees emptiness, she just sees the thing that’s within her. I walk over to her. There’s another chair but I don’t sit in it. I just kneel beside her. I think of telling her what I always do, “Please tell me,” “It’s ok,” “Trust me.” But for some reason I don’t. Without really meaning to I tell her what I’m thinking.                                                                                                      

  “You’re killing me,” I whisper. This catches her attention. I know that she can hear the despair in my voice. Her face turns towards mine and I can see the excruciating pain gushing in them. I feel like I’m being ripped apart by her gaze. Her mouth slowly opens but she knows what to say.                                                                                                                                                

   “I know.” There’s a deep, suffocating silence between us.                                                               

  “Why do you want to kill me?” I ask her.                                                                                          

There they are. The tears. They’re fighting to come out but she’s doing a good job of locking them in.                                                                                                                                             

   “It’s not you,” she whispers. I can hear the despair in her voice too, “It’s the world.”             

   I stay quiet. I feel like I should understand, but I don’t.                                                                     

  “What’s wrong with it?”                                                                                                                    

“Everything.” She seems sure as if she’s thought about this for a while, “Can’t you see what a miserable world we live in, all the violence, the hate, the torture?” I feel like the last part was meant for herself. She continues.                                                                                                     

   “I can’t take it anymore. I feel like everywhere I look there’s badness. Look on the news, rape, murder, that’s all. That’s all there is in the news and I know that that’s all there is in the world. There’s no escape.”                                                                                                                             

   I had wanted her to tell me what she was feeling. I had wanted it so bad. But now that I was hearing it I just wanted to block it out. This wasn’t the woman I loved. This is something else entirely.                                                                                                                                                         

  “What’s the point in living? We work and then die. There is no point. I feel like I have no point, no purpose. There’s nothing. Everything’s awful.”                                                                           

   I grab her hand and feel the familiar fingers I had held so many times before.                                

   “Even us? Are we awful? Am I awful?”                                                                                     

  She looks deep within me and my heart lurches forward. I want to hold her. I want to feel her in my arms but I know that if I did I wouldn’t feel anything. I’d only feel uninhabited air.             

  “Not you,” she says lovingly. She raises her hand and caresses my face. The feel of her loving me makes me feel alive again. But it’s a fake emotion. I feel love. But I know she’s gone. This slim part of her coming through is heaven but I know that she’ll recede back into herself and be gone again, empty again.                                                                                                                       

  “I love you,” she says and I know she means it. It’s so beautiful to hear her say those words. I start to cry because I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to leave me with the empty carcass. I tell her I love her back and I’ve never believed anything more. I ache all over.

                    

---

                                                                                                                           

            The next morning she’s gone. I awaken to an empty house. I search for her in every room but she’s nowhere. She’s been nowhere for a while. I should go looking for her. But I don’t. I feel like I already know where she is. I hear a knock at the door and open it to reveal a police officer. I can’t say that it was unexpected.                                                                                

  She threw herself off the bridge early in the morning. It had been cold but clear. I wonder if that’s how she felt when she was standing on the edge: cold and clear.

                                      

---

                                                                                                         

            The funeral was short. All our family arrived but I didn’t really care. I didn’t want to see her. It wouldn’t be any different from when she was alive. The eulogy was short and I didn’t hear half of it. I only remember them burying an empty casket. I feel like I’m dead too.

                                              

---

                                                                                                    

            I stay at home a lot now. I work, and I eat and do other things. I do hobbies for my own pleasure but nothing makes me happy. The only thing that gives me comfort is imagining the last thing she saw, the sky. I imagine her looking at the horizon, just as the sun was rising. I imagine the sky to be a strong golden color. I also imagine swirls of yellow and reds and soft streams of blue and purple here and there. It’s beautiful. But it’s not enough.          

 

 

                                                                                                           

I just want my wife back.

 

I’m not enough

At first I was hopeful.

There were skies with not limit.

I had a heart full of spirit.

The world was mine for the taking,

Places to see, and masterpieces to be making.

I had an entire life to start

And memories to fill my heart.

But doing it was going to be tough,

And I fear I’m not strong enough.

 

Time passes.

I see an engagement ring.

The birds begin to sing.

A bright future is shown;

I am never to be alone,

Love that is boundless,

And happiness that’s endless.

But marriage can be rough,

And I fear I’m just not good enough.

 

Then time ends.

Everything comes to a halt.

I realize it was all my fault.

Opportunities I ignored,

Decisions I now abhor.

Problems and mistakes I chose to forget

And in the end, it wasn’t even worth it.

Life I did rebuff, because I feared I was just never enough. 

The Mehogany Colored Rug

            “Wake up, Daniel,” his mother whispered in his ear, “it’s time to get up.” He groaned as he sleepily sat himself upright. The morning light seeped in through the window across from his bed. He could hear a few birds singing. As his mother walked back out he pulled himself out from under the covers. It was cold and the feeling to get back in bed only grew stronger. He forced himself out of bed and found his coat. He walked down the stairs and down the hallway to the kitchen where his mother was making breakfast. She smiled as she saw her ten year old boy walk in, still rubbing his eyes. He was small for his age.                                                                               Daniel sat down at the table and watched his mother cook. Her name was Simone and she was tall and elegant. She had beautiful yellow hair and a fair complexion. Daniel asked, “Could I go to Rudy’s house?” He was on vacation from school and he hadn’t seen his friends for a while. “Yes, I suppose you could. I’ll ask Rudy’s mother tomorrow.” The food was ready just a few minutes later. His mother went to the cabinets. She motioned for Daniel to come and he did. She handed him two plates and took three more. She put food on the three she had as Daniel put his two plates on the table.                                                                                                          “Take this one,” his mother handed Daniel a plate with food. She took the other two and they both walked to the living room next door. The living room had two couches and a table in the center. There was also a mahogany colored rug. Daniel and his mother set down the food on the table and moved the couch aside. His mother lifted up the rug to reveal a door leading to an underground room. As she opened it, Daniel saw a sight that he had already gotten used to. Inside were three pale people. They squinted as his mother let in the light. He and his mother retrieved the plates of food and looked down inside.                                                                   

  “I hope it wasn’t too cold last night,” Simone asked. The man looked up at her. He had sunken eyes and rough skin. His shoulders were hunched and his left hand had a tendency to shake, especially when he was nervous or frightened. But Daniel did not notice any of this. The only thing he noticed was the nose. The man had a very large, crooked nose.                                     

    “No it was fine. You gave us enough covers to feel warm.”                                                                 

    “Are you sure?” Simone asked, her brows tilted upwards. It was the woman who answered this time.                                                                                                                                         

   “Really, it was fine. You have no need to worry. You are already doing enough as it is.” The woman was as pale as her husband. Even though Daniel saw that she was very skinny, he still thought she was pretty. She had pretty brown hair and kind eyes.                                                  

“We brought you breakfast,” Daniel said. The people in the basement smiled and Daniel and his mother walked down the few stairs to them. His mother handed the man his plate and Daniel served the woman.                                                                                                                            

     “Thank you,” she said as she took the plate of food in her hand. With her other arm she held a small boy. He was younger than Daniel, around six or seven. Daniel greeted the young boy but the little boy merely shrunk away.                                                                                                        

  “He doesn’t say a lot,” observed Daniel. The woman looked down sadly and replied, “He used to.”                                                                                                                                               

   Simone and Daniel stayed a little longer and watched them eat. At one point Simone sent him to go get more food. When he was coming back he had heard his them talking in whispers. Among those whispers he heard the words “Jews” and “Nazis.” When his mother saw him come she abruptly stopped, smiled, and said, “We were just having grown up talk.” Then they all ate breakfast together. As they ate and talked, Daniel pondered for a moment. Daniel was a smart boy compared to others his age. His mother always referred to the people in the basement as “star people” and sometimes warned him about “The Men with the crisscrosses on their suits.” But Daniel knew that she was just trying to protect him from the reality that he had learned anyway. Of course, he did not know in detail but he understood that the star people were in trouble with The Men with the crisscrosses and that they had to be protected. He knew that he had to act very behaved around those men. He also knew that if The Men found out about star people in their house, he and his mother would be in a lot of trouble.              

When breakfast was done, his mother took the plates. As she and Daniel were heading back up the stairs she said, “Daniel and I have to go grocery shopping. I’ll close the door, but when we come back I’ll open it again.” The star people nodded. As she closed the door she told Daniel about how she felt bad about leaving them there. She then sent him to get dressed.                        

When they walked out and drove towards the town. The weather was already beginning to warm so they only took light coats with them. Simone and Daniel lived a few miles away from town, in the woods. Once they arrived, they parked the car and hopped out. They walked to the produce stands. Daniel was looking at the different food available when he saw a tall man standing by the edge of the street. It was one of them. He pulled at his mother’s coat.              

“Mutter, look. A man with the crisscross.” His mother leaned down and responded quietly, “I know.” As other times before, Daniel behaved very well. He noticed that his mother was tense as well. She had a few vegetables in her basket and three loaves of bread as well. Once they had all the food they needed they went to the man who ran the stand. She gave him the food. Daniel watched the large, burly man. He had run the stand for as long as Daniel could remember.                                                                                                                                                     

While the man put the food in bags he gave a sidelong glance to her. As Simone gave him the money he handed her the food. “Quite a lot of food for just you and your boy, Simone.” Daniel felt his mother’s grip tighten. Acting as composed as she could manage she responded, “Well, Jürgen, I am sorry if I wanted to store food. You never know with the war and all.”                     

He gave her a hard gaze and said coldly, “If I were to store food, Simone, I would get food that wouldn’t perish.” Simone stared coldly back, took the food and quickly turned away. Daniel noticed that his mother was very quiet. It was only when they were driving back home that she spoke.                                                                                                                                   

   “How could I be so stupid!?” Her knuckles were pale on the steering wheel and her shoulders were tense. They carried the groceries inside. She told Daniel to put everything where it was supposed to go and went away. Daniel did as he was told and when he was done he found his mother in the dining room. She was sitting alone. Daniel saw that she was drinking the orange stuff that he had always wanted to try but his mother never let him. She didn’t drink that stuff often. Daniel noticed how run down she looked. Her face was puffy as well. He walked towards her slowly and sat down beside her.                                                                          

“What’s wrong, Mutter?” He asked her softly. There was a slight pause. Her shoulders shuddered slightly and tears welled up in her eyes, “I’ve doomed us all.” She cried quietly for a while, the cup always in her hand. Daniel hugged her and tried to give as much comfort a ten-year old can give. When her tears subsided Daniel said, “What are we going to do?” She took in deep breaths and rubbed her tears away with her hand.                                                                         

   “We have to get them out of here,” she declared. They hurriedly walked to the dining room, pushed the couch, moved the rug, and opened the door. Without saying hello, Simone told them of what had happened.                                                                                                             

“You need to get out of here, now. They can come at any second,” Simone told them. The star people looked frightened and Daniel noticed that the man’s hand was shaking more than usual. The three walked out of the basement. Simone quickly packed them almost half of the food she had bought.                                                                                                                    

  “You don’t have to give us this,” the star woman said.                                                                      

   “Nonsense, take it.” The star grown-ups looked reluctant but accepted the food anyway. When they were ready to leave Simone lead them to the back. Daniel followed and he heard his mother telling them which way to go. There was a safe house nearby. Daniel listened to the directions and made a mental map of it inside his mind.                                                                

   “Now go, quickly, before they show up.” Daniel noticed that the star man’s hand was shaking violently now.                                                                                                                                 

   “Come with us,” the star man said to her. For a quick second Simone thought about it. But then she shook her head. “No,” there was a slight pause, “they may not even come anyway.” The star people looked doubtful and she did as well. But she gave no other explanation. As they left the star woman came back and shook her hand one last time. “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked towards me and caressed my cheek in a motherly manner. Then she headed off. Simone and Daniel watched as they disappeared into the forest.                                

    They walked back inside and closed the basement door and hid it under the rug and couch.                                                                                                                                                                     

    “Listen to me Daniel,” she pulled him in to directly face her, “if anything happens, anything at all, go hide there.” She pointed at a small air vent. It was small and Daniel doubted he could fit but he didn’t say this.                                                                                                               

  “Do not come out, not for any reason, do you understand?” Her stare scared him. He had never seen her this serious or scared. He nodded. After that there wasn’t much to do. They sat in the dining room table, just waiting. For what, Daniel wasn’t sure.                                                      

  The day passed and Simone was starting to wonder if it was too early to become hopeful. Then something could be heard, the sound of cars driving up to their house. Daniel ran to the window and saw two cars coming. Daniel did not need to see the crisscross to know who was here. He gave his mother a look of fear and she stared back, equally terrified. She stood up and a quick look passed between them. Without having to say it, Daniel understood what his mother was saying. He ran past her, down the hallway to the living room. Behind him he could hear the harsh knocking. He heard his mother’s footsteps as they wearily approached the door.                                                                                                                                                    

He ran across the living room. He tripped on the rug but quickly recovered. He removed the small metal encasing on the air vent and squeezed inside. It was a tight fit but he managed. He scooted in further. It was dark and he was hidden in shadows. He placed the metal encasing back where it was and sat as quietly as he could. But then he saw the rug. The corner was folded back to reveal a small part of the door leading down to the basement. It must have happened when he had tripped over it.                                                                                                           

He heard the Nazis barge in. He might have just enough time to fix it and come back. He knew he had to go back. But he did not move. The sound of boots coming closer paralyzed him. He could hear a harsh voice saying, “Where is your son?”                                                                         

  “He’s at a friend’s house, Rudy Petersen’s house.”                                                                         

  “You are suspected of hiding Jews, Frau Shwarz.”                                                                            

“That’s ridiculous.”                                                                                                                          

    One of the men came into the living room. He quickly looked around and soon found the rug. He walked to it, lifted it up and called out, “Gottschalk!” A tall man, with broad shoulders stormed in. Daniel’s mother was close behind. The man saw the door and swiftly turned to face Daniel’s mother. He loomed over her menacingly.                                                                                             

   “That’s just a basement where we put old stuff-“                                                                           

  “Gottschalk,” one of the others walked down and pulled out the covers, “there are covers in here and there is a little bit of food.” He pulled out a small piece of bread. Simone’s eyes widened as Gottschalk turned back towards her. He grabbed a fistful of her hair.                         

  “Where are the Jews?” He demanded.                                                                                           

   When she didn’t say anything he pulled her hair and she screamed in pain.                            

   “Where are they?!” He screamed into her face. Simone was crying and kept trying to pull away his fingers from her hair.  She scratched at his hands and The Man with the crisscross unleashed her hair and cried out in pain. She fell to the floor and rubbed her scalp. Gottschalk glared at her. He raised his hand and slapped her across her face; the sound seemed to echo through the house. Daniel watched in horror, still hidden in the air vent. He could hear footsteps from above as the others ransacked the house, looking for what Daniel assumed to be the star people.                                                                                                                                           

Gottschalk called to the other man in the basement.                                                                     

   “Watch her,” Gottschalk commanded. The other crisscross man withdrew his gun and pointed it to Simone’s forehead. Gottschalk went down into the basement. Daniel couldn’t see what he was doing. Gottschalk came back out and stood in the center of the living room watching over everything. He turned to Simone again and asked her once and for all, “Where are they?”                                                                                                                                                       

  Simone saw Gottschalk and saw the devil. She saw his malicious eyes and was more afraid of him than she was at the gun that was only inches from her head. But she forced herself to be strong. She knew that Gottschalk wasn’t the only one watching.                                               

  “They’re in the attic,” she slowly stood up, the gun following her, “I’ll show you.” She told herself not to look at the air vent, not to give them any hint. Gottschalk looked suspicious but motioned her forward. At that moment another crisscross man came down the stairs and said, “The attic is clear, sir.”                                                                                                                       

    Gottschalk rolled his eyes, “I’m tired of this. Shoot her.” Almost as soon as he said it a loud gunshot resounded through the house. It hurt Daniel’s ears. His mother fell to the floor instantly. Daniel wanted to cry out. He wanted to run to his mother. But Gottschalk prevented him from revealing himself.                                                                                                                          

  “She was reported today, they couldn’t have gone far. Go find the boy at his friend’s house. I’ll decide what to do with him later.” He strode out of the room, his footsteps heavy and decisive.                                                                                                                                                 

  The Nazis continued to search the house but found nothing. Daniel did not come out of the air vent until they had been gone for a good twenty minutes. He came out only to be met with his mother’s corpse. The sight of her made him back away. He saw her face: pale, seemingly cold, and surely void of life. He saw the red spot in her forehead; it stood out against her colorless skin. But the worst thing was her eyes: blank, faded, and empty. That would be his last glimpse of her. He wanted to hug her, to feel her touch one more time. But before he knew it, he found himself running out the backdoor into the dark woods, the cold air freezing him to the bone. The image of his mother’s dead body kept appearing before his eyes and every time it did he ran faster.                                                                            

  The feeling of his mother being gone was like having a piece of him die as well. He felt as if his heart had been ripped in two. The knowledge that he would never feel her touch ever again, that he would never hear her voice, or see her eyes the way they used to be, crushed him. He felt like he simply wanted to lie down and die as well. But most of all; he felt lonely.                  

   He remembered the directions his mother had told the star people to go, or as they were called, “Jews.” He was going to the same place the Jews were going. He followed the mental map he had made earlier, running through the woods, feeling the ice cold air seep into his lungs. Daniel ran and ran, away from The Men with the crisscross on their suits, from his mother’s corpse, and from the mahogany-colored rug that had started it all.

Pond

I walked to a pond, once.

It had seemed

Cheerful,

And bright.

 

I kneeled down and saw

A face that was not my own.

It was one of

Coarse skin, dark eyes,

And wolf-like features.

 

I watched in horror,

As it smiled,

When I had not.

It shed a sly,

Cunning,

Sharp grin.

 

Its hand

Erupted through the surface

Of the water.

It seized a tuft of my hair,

And pulled me down,

Into the depths

Of the pond I had walked to, once.

 

It dragged me down,

Deeper and deeper.

I looked above me,

And saw the fading rays of sunshine,

And wondered

How harmless

The pond had seemed

At first.

 

And farther and farther,

I sank,

Into the darkness

I had yet to see.

Compression

       Jack Smith was preparing his coffee in the morning. He added two spoonfuls of sugar and no cream. Actually, he had no cream in his apartment whatsoever because he would never need it since he strictly held fast to his coffee with two spoonfuls of sugar. In fact, he stuck to his routines very strictly. He never strayed from a familiar path and he never tried anything new.             

     After breakfast he would go into his walk-in closet and picked the suit of the day among his other clothes which were ordered by color. He would then iron his suit to the point where the creases were nonexistent. His suit was always a dull gray which was neither too dark nor too light to attract any attention. Then he would take his pills for his anxiety. When he left he would look back and make sure everything was in order in his apartment.                                                  

        In the parking lot, his car did not start. After many attempts to solve this problem he became uneasy. He always drove to work in his car. He felt tormented by cab’s uncleanliness and he was uncomfortable with the people he would have to encounter on the bus. He was very close to staying home but he then came to the conclusion that he went to work every day, except for the days when he was sick. But today he was not sick, so he decided to take the bus. He despised each second of it. He did not know the people and he was unfamiliar with the route to get to work. Even the smell was different than what he was used to. He felt jittery and anxious. There were times when he felt that the people around him were squishing him to death. By the time he arrived at the factory he was determined to get his car fixed that afternoon, even though the whole process would interfere with his rigid afternoon routine.                                                          

         The meat factory, which he managed, was like any other. The clocks on the walls were simply black and white and the machines were a dull gray and perhaps had different colors here and there that looked as if they had once been bright but are now rusted over. He would head straight to his office, at no time stopping to say hello to a fellow co-worker. His office was a dirty white; the paint seemed faded and old. In his office, where he would spend most of the day, Jack would go over the usual paperwork. Anything that was important he would set neatly into his drawer and anything that wasn’t would be stuck on the check spindle to be recycled at the end of the day. When he wasn’t in his office he oversaw the factory making sure everything was in its                          place.                                                                                                            

         “Everything seems to be in order,” he thought to himself. He was going to head back to his office when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Fred Halvard walking towards him with his usual dimpled grin on his face. He had a freckled face and messy dark hair. Fred was liked by all of the staff, something which Jack envied, even though he would never admit it to himself. Fred was not even twenty years old and he walked with the confidence and hope that youth brought. Jack did not particularly liked Fred. In fact, he didn’t like him in the least. He especially didn’t like how Fred wore different, bright colored shirts every day, for example blue and green, and orange. What a terrible color: orange.                                                                   

     “Jack! Can I speak with you?” As Fred approached, Jack could not help but feel a little annoyed and disgusted. He was annoyed by Fred’s cheery voice but what he was disgusted by he did not know. Fred did not have bad hygiene and neither did he look particularly unattractive. Yet Jack was disgusted by the mere thought of him none the least.                                                             

        “Yes, what is it?” Jack asked, hiding his disdain.                                                                      

       “I wanted to talk to you about these ideas I’ve been getting…” Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Fred’s ideas were not unfamiliar. Fred always came to suggest different ideas of his on how to improve the factory’s efficiency. Jack felt extremely uncomfortable with his ideas of drastic changes and often dismissed them quickly.                                                                                         

        “I think that if we just…” Fred went on enthusiastically but instead of listening Jack paid attention to Fred’s irritating mannerism which drove him insane. Fred would constantly make hand gestures and his expressions changed rapidly one after the other. He didn’t like it at all.             

    “Yes, that all sounds very interesting but I still have a lot of work to do so goodbye,” Jack replied dismissively.                                                                                                                                  

     Fred swiftly grabbed Jack’s arm, “No, wait-“                                                                             

    “Get off of me! Don’t touch me!” Jack hissed, wrenching his arm away. Without another word he stormed off leaving Fred confused and slightly hurt.                                                                    

     *                                      *                                                 *                                        *

Jack had gotten his car back but after a few days had gone by it refused to start again. This caused him extreme stress. He hated the bus but he refused to go in a cab since he was much more familiar with the bus. That did not mean that he enjoyed the bus any more than last time. The whole time he tried blocking out people’s infuriating mannerisms. He once, to his disgust, even saw someone stick a piece of bubble gum under the seat. He turned his head away quickly and immediately felt nauseous.                                                                                                  

       “Hey, are you ok?” A passenger next to him asked.                                                                  

        “I’m fine!” Jack exclaimed without turning to the passenger. It was only after he got off the bus when his heart started to slow down. Later that day, Jack received a call from the company and was told that they were sending someone tomorrow to inspect the factory to see if everything was running smoothly.              

    *                                *                                          *                                     *

Greg, the man they had sent, was in his mid-forties, like Jack himself. He was tall and thin and looked young for his age. His wore a well-tailored suit and a silky red tie and a friendly smile wherever he went. He greeted Jack outside of the factory and they entered together. They walked around the factory, Greg inspecting things and Jack answering any questions he had.                 

   “These machines are old, you should replace them with new ones soon,” Greg suggested.        

   “That is no problem,” Jack replied politely.                                                                                 

       “Is the trash compactor working properly?”                                                                                 

      “It’s as good as new; we bought it only a few years ago.”                                               

     Greg continued throughout the whole factory. An hour or two had gone past when Greg had finished.                                                                                                                                                 

     “Well everything seems to be in order,” Greg said.                                                                        

     “Yes, I make sure-“                                                                                                                      

       “Excuse me, Jack.” Jack saw Fred bounding up to him, this time with a bright red shirt.                 

     Fred apologized for interrupting but that he wanted to tell Jack about some revisions he had made on his previous ideas. Jack waved him away and apologized to Greg for the rude interruption.                                                                                                                                                  

      “No, go on, what are your new ideas?” Greg asked, intently looking at Fred. Fred looked a little surprised but his eyes soon lit up and he began telling Greg of his plans to make the factory run more smoothly. As Jack watched he couldn’t help getting an unsettled feeling. He did not like how extreme Fred’s changes were and how Greg seemed to approve of them. He watched on, helplessly.                                                                                                                               

    “I like your ideas, kid. Hey, Jack, have you ever thought about giving Fred a promotion? Maybe he can help you out with running the factory?” Greg turned to him.                                                 

                                                                                                      

     “Well, you should. He has potential.”                                                                                             

   Jack looked towards Fred who said, “Really? Thanks, I would love a promotion. You know I really think my ideas could work!” Greg and Fred continued talking animatedly. After a few minutes they seemed to remember that he was there.                                                                              

    “So, you gonna give him a promotion?” Greg asked.                                                                

    With just a split second of hesitation Jack answered, “Of course.”                                                     

      In that same day Fred was given an office and a raise. Jack was left to sit and let his anger and fear fester within him. He was worried, more so than before. Of all people, Fred had been promoted. He had just had to come when Greg had been there. Of course Greg had liked him, everyone likes Fred. Jack couldn’t believe they had given that job to a nineteen year old.                                                 

      The days passed and sooner than it seemed it was a week later. Jack was sitting alone in his office. He rarely left it lately. He couldn’t stand the sight of Fred giving orders here and there, and what was even worse was that the workers followed them gladly.                                 

    It was night, and the workers had left and the machinery had been turned off. He swallowed more anxiety pills. He had been taking a lot lately. In order to take his mind off things he called the company where they usually bought their machinery. A woman answered and he asked if he could place an order. He had already made a list of all the things they needed and held it in his hand to read aloud to the woman over the phone.                                                                                                                                            

   “I’m sorry, sir. But we will be receiving no more orders.”                                                                   

     “What do you mean?” He asked.                                                                                             

     “We’re closing down.”                                                                                                                      

“Pardon?”                                                                                                                                      

     “We close down in one week.”                                                                                                    

       “But can’t I put down one last order?”                                                                                          

    “Sir, production has stopped. I’m sorry.”                                                                                    

       Jack slammed the phone down. Like on the bus, he felt as if he were being squished.              

   He heard the door to his office open. Fred walked inside with papers in his hands. He seemed as cheerful as ever. Jack stood up and walked towards him.                                               

    “What are you doing here so late?” Jack asked.                                                                            

     “I have a few outlines of my new ideas. I wanted to run them over with you just so you know what is going to happen.” Not waiting for an answer Fred eagerly walked closer and began showing Jack the outlines. He had around ten papers in his hands and these were only a few of his plans. Jack saw plan after plan and he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed. Fred was planning on changing the machines, the uniforms, the quota, and even the advertising.                                       

     “Wait, wait, wait. How do you even know all these plans are going to go into effect?” Surely, he may have all these ideas but not all of them would be done.                                               

    “I’ve talked to Greg and he thinks these are great!”                                                                       

   Jack stood in silence as Fred vehemently continued, his eyes aglow with zeal. The world seemed to blur slightly and Jack could no longer hear the words being spoken by Fred. All Jack could think about were Fred’s ideas that were now becoming reality. His mind wandered to the idea of this entirely new image that was being created. He imagined the differences in everything and the utter chaos it would become. The unfamiliarity of it was frightening. His heart began to pound and he could feel himself sweating. Fred’s words began to jumble inside of his head. The feeling as if he were being squished worsened. He felt as if the world was suffocating him. Everything swirled around in his head. The emotions that had been seething within him built up and Jack felt as if he would explode.                                                                                                               

     Jack grabbed the check spindle in his hand and lunged forward, sticking it into Fred’s abdomen. Unable to control himself he stabbed and stabbed, feeling as though if Fred were gone then everything would return to normal. The blood splattered everywhere: on his dull gray clothes and the dirty walls. He stopped and gaped down at the body. He could suddenly feel the weight of the blood on his clothes.                                                                                                       

     He knew that he had to get rid of the body. With great effort and unease he was able to wrap the body in plastic and get the body to the trash compactor without blood getting anywhere. He turned on the machine and heaved the body inside. He was not able to see anything but he heard the crunch of bones.                                                                                                            

    As he walked back to his office he stopped by the janitor’s closet and took anything he might need. He walked in a trance. He felt like time had stopped. He stood in the doorway to his office looking at the room before him. The walls and carpets were covered with blood. He looked around the room and did not see the cleanliness he admired. He felt a sudden itch to clean it. He couldn’t stand the sight of the blood. But yet, he knew that he would never be able to get the stains out.

 

Wasted

Yeah, we spent six years together.

But I didn’t really pine.

Bring on the beer and wine,

Enough to make my eyes shine.

Don’t worry, I’ll be fine…

Without her smile.

 

She got way too needy.

So of course I left her

With no goodbye, not even a letter.

And now I’m free,

And I’ve got fun and unceasing laughter…

And regret.

 

This is the life, my friends:

Listening to the music pound,

No one holding us down,

Having fun day and night,

Spinning around town…

Alone.

 

No, I don’t think about her at all.

I’ll take another drink like this.

This is truly bliss.

I couldn’t have wished for better,

A night like this I’ll miss…

Her.

 

I’ll pay for the drinks.

No, I don’t mind.

Let’s leave the world behind.

A bar better than this

I’ll never find…

Someone like her.

 

The night is growing old,

But this party is set apart,

Even from the start.

I’ll never forget this.

These memories will fill my heart…

With emptiness.

I Chose

The feeling of art itself in my hands

Sent my heart racing,

To feel another pair of eyes

Looking to a world of wonder,

Hidden in plain sight.

 

Through the pictures and lenses I saw

A world unseen by most;

A world of colors and angles

I could not see with bare eyes.

 

But I chose.

I turned my back

And sought glorious success

And plentiful riches,

And I soon forgot

The beauty of the lenses.

I chose

And through eyes I watched

The world tick by

And I then found myself

Poor in more ways than one.

Years wasted in indifference.

But I chose.

I turned my back

On the beauty of the lenses

And pictures yet unfurled,

And because of that

I no longer saw the beauty in the world.

 

I chose.

Ravaged

            It was colder than I remember. The ground was soft and damp from the previous rainfall. The trees were bare and spring was far off. I walked forward with a bit of hurry and longing.               I was coming home after spending years away. I had gone away to somewhere safe… My parents had made sure of that. I had been young then. They had said that things were becoming unsafe for many people… people like me. People were getting sick, really sick. Many were dying. My father had found out what was happening early on. He could tell something big was going to happen. He could see a correlation between those who were sick and those who weren’t. He heard the rumors. So they sent me to my Uncle and Aunt. They live in the middle of nowhere. They figured I would be safe there. I didn’t want to leave home and everything I had ever known; the vivid trees, the glowing stars, and the yellow daffodils. But my parents were being destroyed by worry, so I had gone. It’s been seven years since.                                                    

   During those seven years I had heard news of the world I wasn’t a part of anymore. I heard how things were getting worse each day. The virus had exploded. The government later called it BL17. Uncle had told me it killed millions of people worldwide. Sooner or later the correlation that my father had guessed about was proven to be true. The disease naturally evolved. It caused a high fever. As the disease progressed one’s organs would all deteriorate, one by one. Death was inevitable.                                                                                                              

     Only one group of people held the genetic disease. They themselves were unaffected but they could spread it to others. Scientists found people in that particular group to have many differences: culture, age, height. But there was one trait that every carried had; hair color. All carriers had golden to yellow-white hair. Blonds were carriers and infected everyone else.              

  Eventually scientists had created a vaccine but by the time they had two-thirds of the world’s population was dead. Even though the epidemic was under control things only got worse. People were left without a family. There were barely any workers. With no plentiful stock of workers available companies could trade no product. The world was broke.                                     

    As time went by, things didn’t improve. As the government tried to come up with a quick solution to this catastrophe, resentment and anger festered inside the hearts of those who had lost someone. Their hunger for vengeance soon spread to others. Blonds were run out of their cities. Their homes were ransacked and some were trapped among the vengeful population, unable to escape. Those who were lucky enough fled into hiding and they haven’t been seen since.                                

   All the while, my Uncle, Aunt, and I have been leaving peacefully where no one could see our disgraceful yellow hair. We farmed for food and listened to the old radio. There was only one channel that connected with the one at home. I was able to hear my father’s voice over the static, describing the chaos happening in the outside world. I reached out to the unfortunate world through the windows. I remember each night I would look out to see the faint silhouette of mountains in the distance. Those were the times I had been especially homesick. Until a few months ago everything was going smoothly. But then I had heard something I wasn’t supposed to hear. I had come down because I had heard a noise. I sneaked downstairs where I saw Uncle sitting gravely by the fireplace listening to the radio. I thought it was strange that he would be up so late listening to the radio. Besides, we never got any messages this late. But I was wrong. He hadn’t seen me and I stood in the shadows listening to the radio that was not silent as I had expected. My older brother, Elek’s voice was quiet over the radio. He was whispering. He had said mother was sick, father was dying of worry, and that food was scarce. I had to go home and take care of them.                                                                                                                                             

    I had declared to my Aunt and Uncle that I would go to them. At first, they would hear none of that and refused. So I snuck out on foot. I only lasted three days before I was out of food and energy. Uncle drove out and eventually found me and took me back. I tried again several times, each with a larger supply of food hoping it would be enough to last the whole voyage. But it was never enough. It was too far to go on foot. But I persisted. Uncle and Aunt eventually came to terms that I would kill myself trying to go. So they sent word to my family saying that I was on my way. Aunt made food for the trip and Uncle drove me. The drive had lasted 10 days in total. When we were just outside the city limits he gave me a wig, one similar to his own. It may have looked shabby but it was most definitely brown.                                                                         

     We drove to the train station; the wig firmly placed over my head and especially my hair. The train ride had gone smoothly, or at least as smoothly as it could under the circumstances. I kept to myself and when my stop arrived I got out as silently as I could. I had walked until I was out of the city, walking down a lone road each step coming closer to home. Now that I was here I walked with anticipation to see them again.                                                                                                 

     I looked down at the bouquet of daffodils I held. I had specifically gotten them to take to my family. It was winter now and there were none in bloom. So I felt it would be a heartwarming gift of warm times to come.                                                                                                                         

   After a while, I saw a figure in the distance walking towards me. For a moment I was scared but then I thought that it was only one man anyway. As he came closer I saw a face familiar to one I had seen six years earlier. Then, I heard someone call out my name.                         

   “Karina!” I blinked but my eyes did not betray me. It was Elek, practically a full grown man. I ran to him and embraced his wide shoulders. We laughed and I felt as though I were already home.                                                                                                                                                          “I’ve missed you!” I laughed into his ear. He smiled. As we walked later he told me he had come every day as soon as he heard I was coming. He wanted to guide me home. He told me that we would have to go through a town in order to get to the cottage. I didn’t mind much. I had already done that once before without incident.                                                                                            

The town buildings slowly came into view. As we came nearer I found myself a little more nervous. I made sure my wig was on properly. As we reached the outskirts a chill surged through me. I stood where I was and thought of any other way we could go. There was no way around the town unless we wanted to freeze to death climbing the mountain. It appeared that there was no other way; we could have to go through. I we neared the town my heartbeat went a little faster. As we went deeper, there were much more people milling around. The town was cold and gloomy. The sky seemed white and there were no clouds in view.                                         

I touched my wig making sure it was still in place. But I didn’t want to draw any attention to my head. So, as invisibly as we could, I sneaked through the swarm of people now surrounding me. A new wave of fear swept through me again and again as I met the eyes of person after person. I gripped the yellow daffodils closer to my chest feeling that their obnoxious color was attracting too much attention. Elek was holding me closely, pulling my arm gently leading me through the crowd. His jaw was tight and his eyes were attentive.                                           

    As a few minutes passed I relaxed a little. No one was paying us much attention and I felt as if this town was no different from the previous city. I was beginning to believe that we would walk right through with no problems. I looked up at the buildings around me. They weren’t too tall. They were mainly white but this didn’t make the town any more cheerful. Over all, it was a very dirty town.                                                                                                                                   

     I looked up to see if we would soon be out of the town limits. I met a man’s eyes. He didn’t look much different from the rest: scruffy, unclean, and tired. I felt a touch of sympathy for these people. They probably lived in these terrible conditions looking for food anywhere available while the whole world was in ruins.                                                                                             

   “Hey, you!” The man was pointing to me accusingly. Panic wrapped itself around me heart and I froze in place. The man marched towards me. For a moment he stood there glaring at me. Then he reached forward and twisted a strand of my blond hair around his fingers. I gasped in fear. Everyone was looking at us now. They had discovered me.                                                              

   “She’s a Blondie!” He yelled towards the crowd. He ripped the wig off my head revealing my odious blonde hair. I heard a few gasps.                                                                       

   “Look, she’s wearing a wig, trying to cover up her shame, pretending to be one of us!” I met judgmental eyes in whatever direction I looked. The man drew closer screaming into my face.                                                                                                                                                               

“After all of what your kind has done to us, and you try to sneak in among us, to trick us!?” I heard people agreeing.                                                                                                              

   “Your kind ruined everything!” Again I heard yells of approval. “You killed my daughter, you know that? You’ve killed everyone!” I could feel his spit splatter on my face. I heard others cry out other family members of theirs who had been killed by BL17.                               

  Elek stepped in front of me.                                                                                                              “Lay off her man,” he said as he pushed the man away.        

    “Don’t touch me, traitor!” He pushed Elek back. As soon as Elek’s fist hit the man’s face the crowd instantly broke out into raucous uproars. They swarmed us. I was grabbed by dozens of hands. I saw the wig fall wistfully to the ground where it was trampled by the mob’s feet seconds later.                                                                                                                                                          

  They pushed and shoved and I felt like my body wasn’t in my control anymore. From the corner of my eye I saw Elek being flooded by hands in fists. I called out to him but there was no reply. The world swayed around me and all I could hear were the voices; the passionate voices filled with hatred and disgust. The daffodils were wrenched from my fingers. I felt hands tears at my clothes and I could barely hear the rip of cloth over the trembling roar around me. My skin was exposed to the cold air and I held on to any clothes I could. I felt people pull at my hair, the root of their abhorrence. I felt the ground below me. They shoved my face into the mud. It seemed to suck me in and in that moment I would have gladly let it. As the world seemed to ravage me my mind faded in and out. I remembered a distant yet persistent memory from years ago.                                                                                                                                                                  

   It had been a few weeks before I had decided to leave home. It was at night when everyone was asleep. I had heard a strange noise coming from my parent’s room. I had silently walked to their door where I spied on them through the small crease in the doorway. My mother had been lying on the bed sobbing. Her face was red and swollen from the tears. My father had been consoling her without success. She had cried to my father, why I, out of the whole family, was given such a burden; the burden of having glowing blond hair, like my grandmother had had.                                                                                                                                                                      Now I resurface to the present: the turbid ground, the cold, white sky looming above me, the grimy daffodils now scattered on the ground, their lively color gone. I wish I could just disappear, better yet have a different hair color. I use the little strength I have left to pick up my head. Among the crowd a singular old woman is walking among them carving a path in her wake. People cheer when she arrives and I don’t realize why until I see what she is carrying in her hand. Gleaming silver scissors find themselves to my hair. The old woman roughly takes me hair and chops off any bit she can find. She doesn’t bother to make sure to keep the scissors away from my scalp. The yells turn into hoorahs and now I only see smiles around me, gleaming teeth not too different from the gleaming scissors. When that’s over I feel my body being carried by unmerciful hands. I barely process the town around me. I then feel myself being tossed into the air where afterwards I feel the hard ground collide directly with my hip bone. The inside of me shrieks in pain but I only manage to release a desperate gasp. I hear retreating of footsteps and I know that it’s over. But deep down inside of me I also know it’s not.                                         

  We laid there for who knows how long. Dad eventually came looking for us out of worry. He found me practically naked and covered in a combination of mud streaks and injuries. Elek was worse, covered in blood. My head is bare of any hair and my skin bare of any life. For a moment he fears the worse but then he sees that I am breathing and so is Elek. I’m not sure what happened between then and when I woke up at home. Father was standing around me. He gently asks us if we’re alright. I try to tell him we are but I soon find that my lips tremble uncontrollably and before I can restrain them, loud wails escape from within me and echo throughout the cottage. They sound like the wails of a dying animal, but then again a part of me has died. I realize the enormity of what has happened to me… and I was one of the lucky ones. I survived but I know I will never be the same. This discovery strikes me as hard as their fists.