The Sea King’s Pride

The Sea King’s Pride

Gosen, Svenja. “Pirate Queen.” Digital Work, 2018, svenjaliv.com/pirate-queen/.

Blazing golden light surrounded her as she descended from the final trial site atop the mountain at the center of the Sea King’s Island. As the light faded, Lila marveled at the sight she beheld, miles and miles of her beloved sea. From her place at the mountain's peak, the ship she belonged to looked like a tiny dot among the waves. Squinting her eyes, she realized there were more dots surrounding her ship, meaning only one thing. “The Terra-Angelus Navy!” she gasped hand flying to her mouth. Fearing the worst, she sped down the mountain. Using her new power bestowed by the Sea King, she rushed to the cove where the ship was docked. She sprinted up the gangplank, inquiring about the situation.

A pirate spun to face her upon hearing her voice, “Lila! Oh, thank the Sea King you’re alive! You were up there for so long. We were getting worried.”

“Well I’m here now, but why’s the Terra-Angelus Navy here?”

“It’s a mystery to us, too. They arrived after the seventh flash of light, but they haven’t moved yet.”

Suddenly an amplified voice rang out, rippling across the calm waters of the cove. “Blood-Stained Blade, Captain of the Blood-Spilling Pirates. If you value your life, hand over the Sea King’s Pride! Give us the girl or die.”

Instantly the pirates replied, “Over our dead bodies, you scallywag!”

The response made the navy’s admiral chuckle, “Of course. Typical pirates,” he scoffed, “Mage. Bring us the girl.” The mage nodded as he sunk into the shadows.

“Sorry missy, you're coming with us,” the masked figure whispered into Lila’s ear, drawing her into the shadows and out onto the other ship’s deck. “Mission accomplished, Boss,” he said to the man. And with that, the navy left with the shaken girl, leaving the pirates behind.

“Where are you taking me?” Lila cowered with fear, “Are you going to kill me?”

“You’ll see Miss,” the admiral replied, “Don’t worry, I can’t give that order.”

Once the ships docked, Lila was taken to the dias, where she witnessed a mass of people… bowing… to her? She could hear cries of happiness and “Your Majesty!”.

“Why are you bowing? Please stand up,” she called out, clearly flustered by the sudden action.

“Lila, you are the completer of the ten trials of the Sea King. Thus, the rightful ruler of this kingdom.

“Pardon me, but you are..?”

“My name is Leonard, the chief advisor. But there’s no time to talk, let's get you cleaned up.” Leonard was a wiry middle-aged man, with a dangerous glint in his eyes. But before she could closely examine them, she was whisked away into a room full of maids. Immediately, they sprang into action, pulling out dresses and weird makeup tools. The maids tugged and pulled at her clothes, dismissing her meek desire to dress by herself.

The lengthy tour with Leonard drained her, and she found herself relieved as they reached a balcony overlooking the sea. A nasty drop. Lila basked in the scent of the sea breeze, but the picturesque moment was ruined by the sound of rattling chains.

“Best not to go to close, Your Highness.” Lila ignored him.

“Was that the sound of chains?” she asked quietly.

“Nonsense, Your Majesty, that was just the hinges.” Lila noticed he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’ve been a pirate long enough to know what chains sound like, and that was clearly sound from chains Leonard,” she snapped.

“I’m sure it was nothing. Besides, now you’re a queen, not a pirate.”

“I will always be a pirate, Leonard,” she said quietly before rushing out onto the balcony and climbing onto the railing.

“Your Majesty, please wait!” Leonard shouted. Lila turned around from atop the railing.

“I’m sorry Leonard, but the sea is my home,” she said as she closed her eyes.

He rushed towards her shouting, “NO!!!” But it was too late, she jumped.

Leonard slumped to his knees and cried out clutching his head, “ Damnit! … We lost our sacrifice to the Earthen King. What can we do now? She was the only possible candidate.” He rose from his place on the floor and walked inside muttering, “I guess we’ll have to go back to sacrificing the pure and innocent. Oh well. It has worked for over three hundred years.”

Lila watched him leave and then waited another minute submerged under the waves. Once she counted to sixty in her head, she swam to the surface and climbed up onto the outcropping jutting from the cliffside. She pulled a dagger from the hidden sheath at her thigh and started to cut away her dress to reveal her waterproof, insulated pirate’s gear. She stuffed the ripped garment into a crevice in the rock and proceeded to take out a flask and lighter from the small pouch at her waist. She then dumped the flask’s contents onto the shredded dress and set it ablaze. Once confident all traces of her possessions from the palace were burnt, she replaced her equipment and dove back into the water. Once she reached a suitable depth, she set out towards the rendezvous point the ship’s navigator set. Due to her many years as a pirate out on the open seas, she was an excellent swimmer and an experienced diver. Lila only surfaced three times before the ship came into view. She resurfaced for the last time and started to wave at the ship, trying to get the attention of her crewmates. Once they spotted her, they unfurled a ladder which she used to climb aboard. As soon as she stepped foot on the deck, the entire crew dropped to their knees as she passed. The first mate came up to her, took her coat and handed her a towel, which she took gratefully.

“Lila, how was your stay at the palace?” he asked with a smirk.

“Amazing Jonathan, absolutely amazing. Amazingly horrendous,” she replied with her smile fading to a sneer.

“Just like we thought … Cap’n.”

War

“So, I guess that means we’re going home then?” asks Charlotte Wallace.

“Yeah, I guess, unless we can find somewhere else to go for summer vacation,” Charlotte’s mom, Stella, replies disappointedly.

“No, I refuse to stay home this summer. We can go to, uh, Florida!” proposes Alyssa, Charlotte’s other mom, “We can take you to Disney World sweetheart!”

“Yay!” says Charlotte, “I’ve wanted to go to Disney World ever since my friend went last year, and-”

“Wait a second sweetie, Alyssa, did you hear that?” asks Stella. She turns the volume up once again: “BREAKING NEWS: FLORIDA HAS NOW BEEN DEEMED TOO DANGEROUS TO GO TO; ALL FLIGHTS ARE CANCELLED. TO THOSE IN FLORIDA NOW, STAY SAFE,”. She lowers the volume again and says Stella “Dang, so there goes our plans of just going to Florida instead, home-”

Alyssa suddenly interrupts Stella’s sentence before she is able to finish, “No! No, we aren’t going home. We can go somewhere else, just not back home.”

“But where? We can’t even go to Disneyland in California because it’s being renovated at the moment,” explains Stella disappointedly.

“Mommy, why do you want to travel so badly?” asks little Charlotte, reluctant to answer her daughter’s question and turns to Stella.

“Charlotte, your mom really wants to travel because she has always wanted to see the world. Your mom is very adventurous and staying here is tedious to her,” says Stella. Alyssa is having a harder time dealing with the war than Stella. The current war is affecting large numbers of people and their lives drastically. People are gathering food and supplies for their war shelters. They’re also attempting to get out of The Americas altogether.

“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to see the world mommy. Where can we go then?” asks Charlotte.

“Paris! We can go to the Disney World in Paris, and while we’re there we can sightsee!” suggests Alyssa excitedly. They agree to travel to Paris for a during the summer. As they’re driving, they pass a building on fire, Alyssa sniffles. Then the news comes on: “BREAKING NEWS: THE WAR OUTBREAK-.” Alyssa turns the radio off before her daughter can hear. She looks in the back and sees her sound asleep.

They reach the airport, take their luggage out of the car, and advance to the front desk. Luckily they are able to buy tickets to Paris, France at the last minute. They proceed through security, which happens to be longer than usual because of the war. Eventually, it’s time for them to take off. They sleep the entire flight due to the fact that it is 2 a.m and they’re all worn out.

Finally, they land, it’s 10 a.m later that day. They get their luggage and take a taxi to a cafe because they’re all hungry, especially Charlotte, after that flight. While they are at the cafe they not only eat but also begin looking for hotels to stay in. As they are looking, they realize all the hotels in Paris are booked as a result of the war. Alyssa and Stella decide not to give up, and they keep looking for hotels. Then finally Stella declares, “I found one! This hotel says ‘Rooms available’.” They then rush out of the cafe to the hotel.

When they arrive, there is only one room left in the hotel and they go to war with a couple over it and don’t end up getting it. The Wallaces leave while they try to figure out a temporary living situation. They notice many people at war for the last room in hotels, the remaining food in stores, and many other items. The population all over the world is growing dramatically, another result of people from the Americans moving and making resources scarce.

Then right then and there, Stella realizes they really have nowhere to go. They stand there on the sidewalk thinking of what to do, where they should go. Then Alyssa remembers that they can stay with her aunts that immigrated to Paris a few years ago. They unexpectedly show up at their house and are welcomed with open arms. They are glad that being around family has been able to save their summer break.

Diamond, Des. War Background. Diamond, Des. War Background. 

Big Crimson Love

“You are the most beautiful woman, nay, creature I have ever laid my eyes on!” cried the

Sailor in delight. Never had he ever met someone so beautiful, so magical, as the woman
he was talking to.

“Well, aren’t you a sweet man?” said the woman in the water. Her tail was swooning back

and forth as the most heartwarming smile appeared on her face. They had been chatting on the
shore for what seemed like hours. It started when the Sailor heard the Mermaid sing. Oh, that
sweet voice! It could lure any man to her, just like it lured the Sailor. Then, he saw her, and
they just talked. They talked, and talked, and talked.

“I can’t say I am. But you, my darling, have stolen my heart, and you are gripping it ever

so tightly. I am frankly somewhat ashamed that I let myself get seduced so easily. Oh, tell
me about your home, sweet princess. Tell me where you come from!”

The Mermaid giggled innocently at his compliments.

“Well, you are not wrong about me being a princess.” said the Mermaid.“My father is the

king of all of us Merfolk. We live not far from here, just a couple of miles away.
There really isn’t much to do there. Our pastime includes swimming, occasionally
collecting human artifacts, and some other activities. But we mostly just swim.
Oh, and we sometimes come to assist humans. I know our laws say that we
have to remain a secret, but many of us, such as myself, can see that you
humans have suffered a lot. It’s just so hard, you know? I have always
wanted more in life than just to swim but it seems like I can’t have that life.”
the Mermaid sighed. Goodness, even her sighs were beautiful to him.

“Well, to make you feel better, my life isn’t perfect either,” remarked the Sailor.
“When I was seven years of age, a dreadful fire claimed my house and the lives
of my parents. I was left orphaned an alone. That is when I learned how to survive.
I lived eight years as a street urchin: hunting wild animals, stealing from innocent
people, and many other horrible acts that I will never forgive myself for. One day,
someone found me attempting to steal his harpoon. He could have handed me over,
but he didn’t. He took me under his wing, and trained me to become a worthy sailor.
However, life is very difficult for me. It seems like there is always something new
to deliver, or somewhere else where there are pirates trying to loot and plunder.

But, I have recently been thinking about settling down. Starting a family.” the Sailor
turned to the Mermaid as a cheery smile appeared on his face.

“My beloved maiden of the ocean… would you kindly, please, leave the ocean and
join me on land, where we can live together forever?  Oh, please, I beg of you,
say yes!” The Sailor held  her hand tightly. The Mermaid blushed.

“My, that is quite a request…” The Mermaid said as she attempted to
embrace him. “I… I think it might just work. Oh, but I’m not sure if my father
would allow it. I will have to ask him. If he agrees, he’ll transform me into a
human. I hope he does.” The Mermaid looked down as she muttered something.
“I… I love you.” she said. That is all the Sailor had wanted to hear from her all day.
A confession of love from the melodious lady.

“I love you too darling. I will come back tomorrow to pick you up. Then, I will
introduce you to my captain and explain everything.” the Sailor replied. The Mermaid
nodded in understanding.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye!” the Mermaid exclaimed as she jumped back

into the ocean.

The following day, the Sailor went back to the shore in which he first met the Mermaid.

He went to look for her, but he could not find her.

“Darling? Darling, where are you?” the Sailor cried, but there was no response.

Suddenly, he heard a voice. A beautiful, enchanted voice singing the most
beautiful song he has ever heard.

“My love, I have found you!” the Sailor exclaimed. But when he turned to the direction

of the voice, he saw the Mermaid with another man. As the other man came closer,
the Mermaid embraced him, and dragged him into the water. The sea turned from
light blue to crimson red. The Sailor approached the area, just as the Mermaid
came out of the water.

“My love! There you are! I was looking all over for you.” said the Mermaid.

“I saw everything.” the Sailor uttered with difficulty.

“You… you did…? Oh, my dear, it’s not what you think! That man tried to
kill me!” cried the Mermaid, her beautiful, ill-intended voice was desperate.
The Sailor knew better though.

“I can’t believe that the woman I loved with all my heart…” said the Sailor
as he was taking out a harpoon, “would be my greatest prey.” Tears streamed
down his face.

Benajah, Nsey. “Mermaid Generic.” ABC News, Australian Broadcasting Corporation, 10 June 2018, www.abc.net.au/news/2018-06-11/mermaid-generic/9849844.

Peanut Butter Dreams?

“... And again, I wake up and there he is, just smearing smooth Skippy peanut butter on me! Then I fall asleep again and I’m fine, almost perfect one could say.”

I listen to this fifteen year old recount his peanut butter nightmare, and all I can think is: This is not what I pictured when I got my Psychology degree from Stanford. “Brody, you’ve been coming in and telling me the same story since Christmas.”

“Well, Mildred, that’s when it started. What do you want me to do? You ask me ‘so what’s been bothering you lately?’ That’s it! That’s what’s been bothering me!”

Thirty-seven minutes left and then I’ll be at home, on my velvet couch, wrapped in my silky blanket, stroking my Persian cat. It’s the last therapy session of the day. You can do this, Mildred.

“Mildred? Helllooo? Are you even listening to me?”

Brody came to me around four years ago. I diagnosed him with separation anxiety stemming from the absence of his twin, PJ, who left to live with his dad, due to their parents’ divorce. Why does it always smell like peanuts when he comes into my room? “You know what, Brody, why don’t you start again, but this time tell it from the beginning, from before you fall asleep. What do you think about? What’s your routine?”

“Ok, as I've said before, I brush my teeth and say goodnight- you know, the usual. Then I lay in bed and it takes me two minutes to fall asleep since I meditate like you told me to…”

He tells the same story every week, ever since Christmas break. The summer holiday starts next week, marking six months of this recurring dream.

“...then I feel like I’m falling so I wake up and there he is, PJ, smearing peanut butter all over me. And since I'm allergic, my throat closes up, I struggle to breathe and look around for my medicine, and then BAM! I’m fast asleep again and...”

I’d kill for a PB&J right now. “I have an idea, Brody,” I blurt out, not realising I’ve just interrupted him. “Listen, what if during our sessions we concentrate on the original reason you started seeing me? You know, your separation from PJ. Then maybe it will take your mind off the peanut butter.” Mm, peanut butter…

“Why would we talk about my separation from PJ? He’s been back since my dad moved away- since Christmas.”

“He’s been back since Christmas!?” How did I not know this? Wait a second, Christmas? “Brody, didn’t we say that the dreams began during the Christmas break?”

“Yeah…” he sounded confused, but I had a theory.

“Maybe it’s your brain trying to subconsciously tell you that you want to have a better relationship with your brother. And restore what you once had. What do you think?”

“Well, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe….”

“Brody, I want you to lock the door before bed from now on. Until next week.”

“Um, why?”

“If I tell you it may not goes as planned. Just trust me. Now, the session is over so I’ll see you next week. OK?”

“Ok… I’ll lock my door but I don’t see why...”

“Just do it. Like the meditation. Trust me.”

“Ok. See you.”

“Bye bye. Sweet dreams,” I laughed. He looked at me almost disappointed and walked out the door. I peeked outside and caught my first glimpse of PJ; I thought I was seeing double. He was wearing a white hoodie with the Skippy logo on it. That reminded me. I pulled out a jar of smooth skippy peanut butter. Mmmm, how I’ve waited for this. Every time he’s here, smelling like it. Talking about it. Peanut Butter. I just crave it.

The following week, Brody came into my office with a big smile.

“Guess what, Mildred?! The dream! It’s gone!”

“I knew it would work! How do you feel?” No way. That was a lucky guess. You go, Mildred!

“Honestly, it’s like there’s been a weight lifted off my shoulders. Also, I don’t feel as weak.”

Weak? Why would he feel weak from a dream unless…?

“... PJ and I were having such a good time together, but lately, something’s been off. It’s kind of crazy that my dad moved states when they got divorced and I….”

If his brother really is psychotic, he’ll have to lock the door before bed for the rest of his life. “Oh, Brody, that must be hard for you, but realise that it must be hard for him being away from your dad. Do you think you can handle the summer holidays without me?”

“Me? I can handle anything. PJ will get over it,” he winked at me playfully.

“Great, because it's the end of our session. I’ll see you in a month and a half.” I’ve got to talk to PJ.

“Wow, already? Well, have a lovely summer, Mildred. And thanks. For everything. ”

He walked out of the room and as I saw him and PJ heading down the corridor. I jumped up and said as calmly said as I could, “Boys, before you go... PJ, could I speak to you? Privately...”

“Sure, Dr Mildred...”

The boy looked confused as he walked into my office.






“Peanut Butter Baby .” Tenor, 2016, ttps://tenor.com/view/peanut-butter-baby-ah-gif-5900388.

Pencil Cases

“As I was saying, we are all going to die in this crummy box,” Abeba pessimistically insisted. A grand, lively pencil case with tie-dye patterns all over, filled with all the colors of the rainbow. That box, the Abeba was referring to, had been down there for about 20 years. It was once a beautiful, colorful, and full of life. However, ever since there was a new manager in the store, the box and those inside were left to rot. The box was once colorful and now it is drained of those colors. The beauty it once had was gone now. The top edges ripped apart due to a cat biting on it. For 15 years there have been two gorgeous pencil cases inside that box, forgotten. 

Ahmed, the second pencil case in that box had been in love with her for as long as he could remember. She lights up his life which apparently will be spent in here. 

“I’m telling you for the last time. The only way that we are getting out of here is if we climb to that top shelf. Once we’re up there, we can't be refused. They are the ones speaking of freedom all the time. It would make them hypocrites if they don't let us in,” Ahmed repeated for the hundredth time, a blue pencil case with a rainbow and a unicorn sewn on the front.

“Don't you see? The next generation of pencil cases is already up there. Will they really accept us?” Abeba asked.

“Abeba, all we want is a home, right? Someone to take us home and take care of us. That’s all we have ever wanted,” Ahmed answered her. “We are in a vile box, for heaven’s sake, we could get trampled on any second. We want a safer place to stay and live, is that such an evil act?”

“I suppose you’re right. After all, we are all pencil cases. We have the exact same purpose and inside, we just happen to look different on the outside. Wait, isn't the climb dangerous?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, yeah, it is very dangerous. However, it is our only hope. We can do this, Abeba,”

Abeba and Ahmed began their climb to what they thought would be their new haven. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms from their fellow pencil cases. Although technically speaking, their fellow pencil cases wouldn't welcome them with open zippers. 

Their haven is located at the 5th shelf, during that climb, that was all they saw. The possibility that freedom and opportunity that 5th shelf would give them. In front of Abeba and Ahmed was a sea of dangers with labels in the way of their climb, blocking their path. They were also dodging the hands of the children and parents who were taking items from the shelves. Nothing, absolutely nothing was going to get in between them and their last bit of hope. 

“Come on Ahmed, we’re almost there,” Abeba encourages Ahmed who is two shelves behind her. They are both about to pull themselves up onto the 5th shelf when suddenly the leader of the new generation of Top Shelf Pencil Cases (TSPC) appears. 

“Look who we have here. Your pencil cases have been trying to reach our shores for a while now. All of them failed. Do you think you can come and invade our homes?” the leader of the TSPC asked sarcastically.

“Listen, sir, we just want a home that protects us. We are all the same here, aren’t we? Please embrace us into your home and let us learn your culture as you learn ours. Let us live in peaceful harmony, kind sir,” Abeba pleaded.

“Now why would we do such a thing? So that you can bring all of your disgusting customs of how to live your life? Oh no wait, so you can steal all of our jobs by becoming the ones that are bought instead of us? Why would we ever trust you?"

“We just want help, and you are the only ones that can provide us with it. We don't wish you or anyone else harm. We want what everyone wants, love,” he said gently looking at Abeba. 

“Happiness, and a life full of delightful moments. Please help us. We just want to live.” Ahmed answered him, tears streaming down his face. 

The leader of TSPC stepped forward. He reached out a zipper. Ahmed and Abeba’s faces lit with faith, their hope having been restored. As they all locked zippers, the leader’s smile grew from side to side. A cynical expression filled his face, and it seemed to fill the entire store. Abeba and Ahmed already knew what was going to happen. Thrown out and shunned by their only hope, they accepted their fate. The leader let go, letting Ahmed and Abeba fall to the ground. Time stopped for both of them. Looking into each other's eyes wishing the pencil cases could see how little difference there is between them. They wanted to live, but instead were given to death’s cruel reach. They hit the ground and became invisible to everyone walking by. Hearts once filled with hope, shattered with reality’s screech. Those same hearts that were praying for a new beginning were trampled on and shredded into pieces. Destroyed by the people whom they needed to survive and live a wonderful life.

Illustration by: Fun With Fibro. Feeling Blue Pencil Case.

An Urgent Question

I scream. ZUR HÖLLE MIT DIR. In frustration, I throw my what feels like six hundred fifty fifth clothing item on the floor. The pile is growing at an alarming exponential rate. I’m on my period, I have been in pyjamas all day, and now I can’t find anything to wear. I don’t believe anyone truly doesn’t care about their looks, and I am no exception. In fact, I am always a little suspicious of those who say they don’t. I have heard people say “Looks don’t matter” and “First impressions made within six seconds matter” in one breath. I mean, that’s almost paradoxical. What do you notice within the first six seconds of seeing someone new? Certainly not the complexity of their soul. It doesn’t make sense. I look at the watch. 19:40. Five minutes. With a breath release that could probably blow away my closet, I let myself fall into the soft, lavender fragrant hill. I feel my muscles decontract, and I surrender to the muffled silence of cloth in my ear.

“How about the jeans shorts? They’re pretty. And appropriate. Apart from that, they don’t have paint stains like those horrible jeans of yours.”

Instinctively I reply, “I am sorry. Absolutely not. Have you seen the forecast? It’s twelve degrees outside and have you seen the…” Wait. One second. Where did that nasal, wheedling voice come from? It’s almost as if… no, but that can’t be. Clothes don’t come to life. It just doesn’t happen. Suddenly, an arm, or so it seems, breaks through the pile. I hear a high pitched tone, probably the sound of my own squeak. Only then I notice it is not an arm - it’s an empty sleeve.

“No need to be so surprised, young lady. We are at your service here. And no, the shorts are a terrible idea, they are way too cold. And besides, no offense - they make you look like a nun. Have some fun! How about your new pants? They make your ass look cute.” This voice is different. More squeaky. Annoying.

Indignantly I flare up. The arm retreats.

“You cannot say that! Who even are you?”

“Just a little outlier of your brain, dearie. Everything we say here is a thought that has crossed your mind before. And you cannot tell me that you don’t like looking good.”

“Don’t listen to my colleague. She only cares about your looks and nothing else. These pants aren't safe! They are almost begging for looks and comments. Or even worse things, if you know what I mean.”

I shake my head. Did I hear her correctly? I feel a wave of feminist impulses rising in me.

“You are even worse! My clothes don’t send any messages. They don’t invite or send anything - they would have to be able to talk to do that, haha …  I mean. Usually. But in any case, does my brother ever worry about being safe? My cousins? They walk around shirtless, for Christ’s sake. And I can’t even wear normal jeans anymore? Gosh. Stupid chauvinistic world.”

“YASSS! GET IT! You can walk around with your boobs out and you would still not be asking for it. And to you, safety department: how dare you say something so outrageous to a notorious feminist?”

“It is not outrageous. I am just concerned about your safety, darling. And I agree with you; it’s not fair. Absolutely not. But right now, it is the reality, and you achieve nothing by bringing yourself into unnecessary danger. You always walk faster when you are in a dark street, the only living human apart from another man… Don’t tell me you are never scared at night. Don’t tell me you don’t make a detour  to not have to go through the park when it’s dark out. Society just isn’t there yet.”

“Which is exactly why she has to fight it! She shouldn’t be disprivileged because she has a non-male gender.”

“She shouldn’t, but unfortunately she is!”

“And you are not willing to do anything about it! Take the mini skirt, Ava.”

“No no no, absolutely no way. The turtle neck is definitely the best choice.”

“Is she a turtle? Take the tank top!”

“Didn’t you say it was cold out? Your mother’s long coat!”

“Yoga Pants!”

“Skirt down to your ankles!”

“Leggings!”

“A long robe!”

“A bikin..”

The clock moves to 19:45, and suddenly there is - silence. The arm, or better said the sleeve, that was just outstretched in an almost aggressive manner, drops. I grab it. Throw it up. It falls down again. The pile of clothes is just a pile of clothes again. With a sigh, I grab loose pants and a sweater. The supermarket closes in a few minutes. I can solve the question of empowerment or safety another day.

Dandrea, Amanda. Dress Codes, Slut-Shaming, and the Male Gaze. 25 Nov. 2013.

A Glass Half-Full

Mztressofallevil. "Diary of A Disney Daydream-Chapter Six: Crossing the Lines of Reality." Mztressofallevil.com. WordPress, 16 June 2011. Web. 15 Dec. 2015.

     “Moooom can you pass me the water,” I moaned, but like usual my mother ignored me, busy chattering to my father about her work today and how annoying her coworkers were being. I rolled my eyes and sighed and started inspecting my surroundings. The dining room had a rustic feel to it filled with paintings of deceased family members, animals, and even one of me. A minuscule chandelier hung from the center of the room, directly above our antique wooden table that was topped with the nicest china mother owned and rows and rows of food. Oh, the food. Thanksgiving was mother's favorite holiday and she always went all out. Of course, being a modern business women who planned her life in lists and schedules, mother had no time herself to cook. However she made sure to get a caterer who filled the table with dishes of scrumptious cranberry dressing and rich gravy sauces, bowls and plates of all the different salads, pastas, breads you could think of. And of course, right at the center of the table underneath the sparkling chandler, a huge turkey cooked to the perfect golden brown shade. Unlike most years, however, I wasn’t salivating with anticipation. In fact, I felt quite numb and not even the array of pumpkin and chocolate pies would stir my appetite. My throat on the other hand, was parched, as if I hadn’t drunk in a year.

     “Can anyone please pass me the water pitcher?” I whined, glancing at my family members. But they remained ignorant once again, focusing instead on snatching the most nectareous pieces of food they could find. Frowning I looked at the water pitcher, how it mocked me, glistening with droplets of precious water from across the table just out of my arms reach. Surrounding the pitcher were my brothers and sister looking identical in dark burgundy clothes and shoulder length hair. They were arguing about the importance of the holiday, when I suddenly noticed the lines of age on their face and realized they looked a lot older than I remembered. I frowned, but this unnerving realization was suddenly forgotten when I realized how I was still so thirsty. It was as if dirt had entered my mouth and smothered my throat.

     “GUYS CAN I PLEASE HAVE THE WATER”,  I shouted hoarsely. My family remained oblivious to my pleas and continued eating dinner contently. Was I invisible or something? I finally got up myself and stomped my way to the edge of the table making a show of my tantrum.

     “Are you guys happy now?” I hissed and took the water pitcher. Except I didn't. I couldn’t hold on to it. Trying to grasp the pitcher I realized my hand simply went through,
    “What the hell?” I cried. I went over to my mother and tried to pat her shoulder, but my hand simply went all the way through. I tried, again and again, my throat parching and my eyes tearing, but it made no difference.

      Suddenly my mother spoke,  “I can’t believe this is the first Thanksgiving we have celebrated without Alice.”
      My eyes jerked at the sound of my name, “Without Alice?” I wondered. Glancing at my family’s sorrowful faces, pieces starting coming back to me: the feeling of dirt in my mouth, how my family seemed just a little older, my unmade place for dinner,
my car crash.

     I laughed. How silly of me to forget my passing, that the lines between life and death blur and mix, that I no longer belonged with my breathing, warm, solid, family. A dark mood settled upon me, that unless I somehow tried to make peace with myself and the world I would be left in this haze of confusion forever, attending one-sided Thanksgiving meals for the rest of my existence. I looked at my family: how much they grieved this year, how much they grown and realized that if the living can go on every day with so much going on and still move forward, I should be able to do the same and find my way to the beyond with a glass of water in my hand.

Distorted Perception is No Good

Difference in Perception. Digital image. Infuse Five. N.p., 17 Apr. 2013. Web. 07 Jan. 2016.

 

 

Alex was riding on his road-bike to return home from school. At school, he studied very hard for the upcoming finals and thus was very exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep in his cozy bed and get some rest. He was tired of memorizing math equations and chemistry concepts. The amount of stress he endured until now was unbelievably massive. His parents treated him like a studying machine; the pressure was simply too much. He wished that the final exams were over already.

As  always, Alex expected to safely reach his home. Suddenly, however, he lost balance and almost flipped to the front, with the bicycle’s  handlebars kissing the ground . When Alex turned around from the place where he fell, he saw a stick. He was prepared to fight anyone who might have put the stick there. Although he rode without wearing any safety gears, Alex luckily survived the accident which in a split second could have been  a catastrophe. Yet both of his knees were scraped open and his left elbow dripped with  blood. He could not ride his bike any longer because of the injury and so he walked, holding the bike on his side.

A few minutes later, he saw a crowd of people approaching. Immediately, Alex began to suspect them. Besides, he needed a scapegoat to whom he can pour out his anger on from the accident. When Alex and the crowd stood so close to each other, he let go of the  bike and punched the nearest person even before being noticed.

Instantly, Alex regretted his action. He was stupefied to recognize  the face of the boy he just punched ‒ Josh, his best friend he had known since birth. Both Alex and Josh were very upset. Josh was shocked, but recovered soon after. When Josh decided to attack Alex back, the rest of the crowd stopped him. Thus, he instead kicked Alex in the stomach for revenge. Both Alex and Josh could not believe what was actually happening between them despite their friendship. Yet neither of the boys  cared to know  what the misunderstandings between them were. They continued to argue, each one either defending himself or accusing the other, without even pausing to breathe. Eventually the crowd dispersed as their argument lasted over 15 minutes.

Both Alex and Josh spoke so loudly that they awoke  one of the most aggressive dogs in town: the infamous Doberman Pinscher in the neighborhood. Unfortunately for the two boys, the dog was unleashed and the gate happened to be open. The muscular dog made its way out to the gate  of its owner’s house, and started barking at Alex and Josh. All of a sudden, the boys noticed an old man with grey, white hair jogging in the direction where the  the beastly dog was. They looked back and forth at the Doberman’s sharp teeth and then the old man who barely had any muscle. Alex and Josh ceased arguing and blocked  the old man’s path so that he would not get hurt. However, the old man was too tall for the boys to to block. The stubborn man made his way through the boys despite their efforts to stop him from approaching the dog. Scared to death, Alex turned  pale and buried his face into his palms and so did Josh. They expected the dog to rip off the man’s arm or other body parts, like some dogs do on television.

Unexpectedly, when the boys uncovered their faces, the old man was petting the dog who had been barking at them just a few minutes ago. Alex and Josh found the situation  to be unbelievable. Soon, the boys  realized that they had incorrectly interpreted the whole situation as the old man turned out to be the owner of the dog. The boys saw the old man enter the open gates and then the house where he called his sons and daughters who were already  asleep. After a brief moment of silence, Alex described to Josh how enraged he was after his accident with the road-bike and apologized for making Josha scapegoat. Then, Josh apologized for hitting  him back. They forgave each other. After the  loud argument, Alex and Josh bonded even stronger than before. Nothing could break their friendship . In fact, they were so happy to reconcile that they became closer pals. They each returned to their houses where they studied hard and  the passed all of their exams.  Although the boys forgot everything they had studied for the finals once the vacation began, they never forgot the life lesson acquired  from arguing with each other. They constantly  reminded themselves to think first if there were any misunderstandings between them ever since the incident.

The Cloud

Gupta, Shreya. "Bon Voyage? Things about Airplanes That Will Shock You!" Teengazette. N.p., 15 Nov. 2015. Web. 7 Jan. 2016. <http://www.teengazette.com/bon-voyage-things-about-airplanes-that-will-shock-you/>.

  

Destitute. It almost killed us. Our government was our enemy. We didn’t know who was our neighbour and who was the spy. Being poor and different made it impossible to live there, in Centorails. Poverty made me feel empty inside. Sitting on this plane meant that we, my friends and I, were leaving our families and all our belongings behind.

As the plane took off, I closed my eyes. I was so scared that karma would hit me for stealing money from my parents. I loved them dearly, but I had to save myself from the government. All of a sudden, I felt the agitation of the plane.  The flight attendant said something I couldn’t hear due to all the screaming. I felt the plane falling intensely. I was glad. I thought that all my suffering was going to end, I thought I no longer had to run away. Then, I saw flashing images of my little sister and parents. The guilt unexpectedly paralyzed me. What will happen to them if I die?  The plane sprang upwards abruptly and immediately came to a stand still. As I glanced out of the window, I saw extraordinarily white clouds as far as the eye could see. I felt dazed and disoriented. Am I in heaven? I looked around me to ask Amy and Jenna what was going on, but nobody was there. The plane was entirely empty. At that moment, I was ecstatic that I hadn’t died. I realized that despite how bad I felt, I had a family which supported and loved me. I was happy to be alive. Some people have worse lives. Finally, I had the courage to step out of the plane, only to find myself standing on a cloud. It was fluffy and bouncy just like I had seen in cartoons. While admiring the exquisite sunset, a warm breeze brushed against my skin. Just like the dense cloud, I no longer felt empty inside. I felt content.

I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, so I turned around, and I saw light. Light that I had never seen before. It was my family; I had never felt such joy. I looked around and saw the city of Centorails being rebuilt into the old Centorails, where it was peaceful: the Centorails of my childhood. A place where we could say whatever we wanted and the government wouldn’t shatter us. Along with the city being rebuilt, I saw the people who where with me on the plane walking around. It felt like we were getting a second chance, living in the clouds. A fresh start with a magical mansion, just like the one I had always dreamt of. This wasn't a dream. This was our reality.

Centorails - it is a fictional city

The Storm Break

Marshall, Taylor. "Did God Send the Tornado? The Problem of Natural Evils." Taylor Marshall PhD. N.p., 21 May 2013. Web. <http://taylormarshall.com/2013/05/did-god-send-tornado-problem-of-natural.html>.

The old lady glanced down at her sandaled feet and, after a drawn-out exhale, she began.“It was a rather unremarkable morning. Daily occurrences passed without notice from the few early risers traversing the quiet streets of Charlesville. The last withered leaves of autumn fell in succession down to the road, illuminated by the first lights of dawn. The sleeping townspeople were roused by floods of warm light as the sun made its ascent. The dull murmur of human noise gradually grew louder until cars began to leave their driveways, mothers sent their children off to school, husbands kissed their wives goodbye. Yes, it had indeed seemed as though the world had been meticulously staged to look like a perfectly uneventful collection of hours.”

She took another breath and continued on in her old Southern drawl, “I felt something that day. A spark in the air, a near undetectable static prick and yet still, I could feel it as I rose unsteadily from my bed. I remember wiping the sensation from my face, my arms, my hands and ambling downstairs uneasily.

“‘Father?’ I called as I walked groggily to the kitchen.

“‘Father?’ my voice echoed forlornly through the still house, mixed with the metal clang of spoon against bowl while I ate my cereal. I always used to roll my tired, hazel eyes at his habitual absence. He wasn’t ever home.

“‘He still isn’t back,’I meant to think, but the words slipped slyly through my lips. I returned to my bedroom to change into my school uniform. The stiff polyester of my plaid skirt abraded my dry, pale skin, and I let out my usual, seven AM ‘ugh.’ A glance to the mirror, showing a mass of frizzy auburn locks, provoked another moan.” The old lady’s eyes trailed off, and she laughed without humor.

“I heard the familiar click of the lock as I opened the door to go. It was then that it began. The hall light fizzled out, and I was left in the dull morning sun’s haze. A thunderous crash sounded from a few miles off, followed by a cacophony of piercing sirens. I fell against the door in shock. Nobody would have thought Charlesville. We were a little town in the South, and the harshest weather we had ever experienced was summer showers. Yes, the scientists did warn us about the effects of our actions, but people never listen.

“I tried desperately to collect myself when a second gust shook our house to its very foundation. A family picture smashed down to the floor. A crystal vase abloom with dead flowers toppled, dousing me with a drizzle of dirty water. I ran to the street and merged with the crowd of the panicked and hysterical. I recall following their eyes up to the blackened clouds, and gazing with horror at the sight I beheld.

“Through the overhanging trees, the sky was storming with thick, swirling tornadoes, their sickly shadows imprinted on the tarmac, moving closer by the second. My head swam in a sudden wave of nausea, and I tilted it back down only to find I was now alone. The townspeople had all bolted to their homes to collect their children and flee while they still could. I stood, petrified, before another blast stirred me into action. I ran to my neighbors’ house as they were just pulling out of their garage.

“‘Mr. Johnson! Mr. Johnson please!’I pleaded through the glass window. Mr. Johnson briefly shut his eyes as if to say ‘I hear you, but I won’t change my mind.’

“‘Please, Mrs. Johnson, my dad isn’t home, he has the car, I don’t know what to do. Please let me come with you. I have no where to go. My dad..’ My words came stumbling out one on top of the other as I was sprinting alongside the ever-hastening car. They finally escaped their long driveway, and left me desolate, coughing up their grey exhaust.

“In choking tears, I came back to the deserted main street. I collapsed in heaving sobs, my shaking hands grasping the ends of my skirt. The roar of the storm was deafening, its increasing volume speeding time and the world was set in droning fast-motion. I felt the hollow, disabling awareness that I was completely alone. As fast as my legs could take me, I ran home. As the houses of the departed passed by in a colorless blur, the tornados reached the quiet streets of Charlesville. Invisible hands pushed my thin, wispy body and I flew five yards, landing on my side. Oh god, the pain screamed. I let out a cry of pure agony and pushed up from the gravel. There was no time to lose. In my dazed, slightly concussed mind, that notion shone with complete clarity. It was do or die.

“Behind me, trees were being uprooted and spiralling to the ground, houses were crumbling. The newly paved road was severed into chunks of black rock and the sky was thick with ash and debris. The world was being churned into a throng of physical chaos, and all I could do was run.”

The old woman’s face lit up, and she gazed into the middle distance with a hint of a smile at her lips.

“But then, in the midst of all this destruction and tumult, the tornado suddenly stood still. Perfectly, blessedly still. The tremendous sound died out like smoke in the breeze as the tornado stopped rotating around its axis. I looked around in astonishment, before realizing that this was my chance. I reached my house, still intact, and barreled down to the basement. I threw myself in a room stocked with peas and bottled water, and I waited.” She closed her eyes, and sat in thought for a while before continuing.

“The tornado began again on its path of death, and I sat, holding my breath for my inevitable end. But it never came. Oh yes, the house was gone. Charlesville had ceased to exist in a matter of minutes, because we didn’t listen. We were warned, yet still in our innate stubbornness, we decided not to listen to the men in white coats. All was lost because of it, and now there are so few of us left.”