She is waiting for me. I am too nervous to go up to her; speak to her. She is still as a stone at the edge of the water. The sunlight and breeze wistfully comb her hair; playfully tug at her tee shirt. She looks fragile; beautiful. I bet she laughs behind a coy hand unless with her friends. Then she hee-haws maybe even snorts.
She grew up here just like me. I've seen her all my life, recognize her shadow as the sun plays hide and seek with the moon on long summer days. I know that giggle; innocent yet mischievous as she and her friends plan their futures ~ so far away... the weekend. I have fewer friends than she. My friends. Her friends. we don't meld, never touch and rarely speak except through tight smiles, batted eyelashes and glances around but never directly on each other.
But here at the lake, the water, things can be different; more neutral. There is no territory. The waves are indifferent to our social caste, tickling our feet and slapping our knees. The water washes all the stickiness of stigmas away- clean. I love it. I breathe deeply when I swim here, gulping at the equality and freedom; kicking away criticism and dirty looks for being different or considered less. And then the waters turned dark.
The kind of dark that never ends and always needs feeding. The kind of dark that makes you whisper and pray it never finds you. She wasn't afraid of that dark like me. I heard her giggling in it, running in it - to it. Many nights I watcher her dash down the street toward the lake. I listened to her shoes slap away the warnings of the street as it begged her to go back, go inside and be safe. Sometimes she even stopped at my drive and I knew she was looking for me. I would duck behind my drapes and hug my pillow. I would wish her to be gone into the night, into the dark water.
Others began to disappear into that void but never her. Fear scurried across our town and scratched at each door. Curfews were set and sidewalks rolled up as if the adults could somehow shield us. Protect. But they could not. The bodies of the skeptical, rebellious and (not-so) invincible were found at the edge of the lake; bloated and marred by curious slashes, bruised necks, bulging eyes that saw it all while mouths stuffed wilt and leaves prevented ever speaking of the horrors and pain. The town thought the water was bad but it wasn't. Not really. Now I know it was trying to clean away the fear, the murder, the death. Each day it tried to wash out the blood and tears it's little white caps desperately crashing into screams of those who went. Who disappeared.
And she just kept going each night down there to the water; stopping at my house while I hid and she waited. I began to hear her calling my name, coming closer to my window. I hugged my pillow more tightly, letting it smother me in fear and common sense "don't go don't go don't go" the wind pushed through the screen and I would scream into my protective down warrior "I know I won't." My tears promised I wouldn't but then one night, she tapped on the glass. Her little manicured nails clicked out a beckoning. My eyes darted to the window and couldn't look away.
She smiled. Waved.
I did too. There was nothing to be afraid of She said. Rumors. It was fun to sneak out Better not to get caught. exciting. And I believed her. I wanted to go. I needed to know what it was like to be her friend even if under the cover of night where no once would see; no one would tell that our groups converged and didn't care.
"It doesn't matter" she said. "C'mon. It'll be fine. Fun."
I pretended to ignore her. She drifted off. And I waited until my parents thought they'd watched over me long enough. They fell asleep. I went. More cautiously than she. I tread lightly, avoiding the light and made my way to the dark water. There she was but with another. They splashed and hollered. I remember thinking that it DID look like fun. But the night wind blew me a kiss smelling of warm metal and struggle. When the silence came, it brought truth and death. I crouched and shamefully watched. Now she was the only one splashing. The lake smacked at her, pleading with her to stop. The waves tugged at the body trying in vain to pull it from her, wash it away and wash it clean but she just laughed and splashed back like it was a game of tug of war. The knife she raised caught the moonlight and as she struck, I gasped giving away my presence. Handing her my life.
She stopped and waited for me; still as a stone.
"Don't hide. I know you're there. Did you piss yourself? C'mere. she panted and sat down on the shore.
I stood and did what she asked; as she had asked all of them. I looked blankly at the body floating in the water. The lake nudging me, warning me. She poked it with her knife carelessly; stirring, almost writing in the bloody water mixture. She confessed and giggled. She sighed wistfully. I sat there numbly and mindlessly pulled at the mud while my brain screamed behind my eyes. every nerve was burning. Tears ran down my cheeks as she politely whispered my fate to me.
I will always be grateful to the water for giving me the small log. It softly brushed my fingertips and I understood. It wanted me to end this.
I swung and heard her nose break. She gasped, shocked and covered her face dropping the blade. I swung again and her body fell back. The waves clapped softly for my heroism. I heard her groan and straddled her quickly. The moon peeked from behind the clouds and seemed relieved. IT shown brighter so I could see where the lake wanted to hide her. Bury her. It pulled at her and like a tiny boat, she went out beyond me. The lake would end this and I did as it whispered. I laid down in it and allowed it wash me and calm my shaking body.
In the morning, only one body was found. The last victim. The adults mourned and asked why. They begged God to keep us safe and to end this horror.
But I knew better and at night I went to the water's edge and thanked it. I laid with it and let it tell me the stories and promises of the ending. Which it did; until just a few nights ago. It began calling to me. telling me of its hunger and reminding me of the role I played in a very dirty story, one that could be washed away if I just brought down a child....
Friday, November 9, 2018
Friday, October 19, 2018
Pearly White
Gather my little darlings and let me whisper to you a story, a warning if you will that began as every parent's nightmare ending in indescribable anger and ultimate fear. Hold your smirks and giggles, reserve your eye rolling and "Oh brother"s until you know all...
She was a beautiful queen who naturally had a beautiful son. They were adored in the kingdom by all; except the king. He was a narcissist, an arrogant soul; wanting all things for himself, whether it was love or gold. But the queen and the prince were kind and caring for those less fortunate creating a loving name for themselves across the land. They fed the hungry, gave to the poor all of which infuriated the pompous, greedy lord. And so on the day that the darling prince with the beautiful smile and warm heart wandered off to play in the wood instead of studying his lessons, this wretched king sent his henchman in to destroy the baby royal.
The boy did not join them for tea. Nor did he return to sup. Night fell as did his mother's heart. She begged for help to search for him. Many in her kingdom scoured the forest but to no avail. After several mornings void of the joyful child's giggling, along came a note demanding money for the valuable prince. The queen begged her husband to pay, stating that nothing was worth more than their angelic son's toothy grin. The king nodded, feigned concern and fatherly fear, even declared he would give his last coin but he did nothing. He lied when he said he sent his best men to search near and far. He put back all the money and gold he ostentatiously displayed for payment. Nothing more was heard. After a fortnight, the crumpled body of the lost was found. He was beaten and bloody; his beautiful smile ruined as all his teeth had been harshly yanked. The queen fell into an inconsolable despair. She wandered restlessly day and night, calling out to her angel child. She would stop at cottages, asking if they had seen her son, the prince. One day, she found a small girl sitting by the water's edge. She wept softly to herself. The queen approached and sat next to her.
"Why tears little one?"
"My mouth is broken." she looked up through teary eyes and held out a tiny white pearl; her baby tooth. A small ember glowed inside the Royal's chest as she reached out and touched it.
"May I have it?" she queried.
The baby girl began to close her fist, hesitant to give up something of her own, a part of her, but the queen quickly reached in her purse and pulled out a coin.
"Here. For your trouble." she eagerly rushed quivering at the thought holding the gleaming treasure.
The child glanced at the shiny gold and rejoiced. She snatched it up and curtsied to her queen thanking her. Her majesty plopped it victoriously it in her pocket and hurried back to the castle where she put the ivory gem in a small velvet purse. There was peace in her heart but it was not so easily satisfied. She needed more of them ~ all of them. So began her travels far and wide~ checking with any and all children for loose, lost teeth for which she would gladly pay to restore the smile of her son, bringing him back.
Her husband saw the gold she was taking away and grew furious. He plotted to kill her thinking only of the riches he would preserve. One night, when he could take no more, he demanded she be poisoned; telling the staff to bring it in her drink after her favorite meal had been laid before her. But the servants had seen enough of his cruelty and known too much deceit, choosing instead to give their horrendous lord the deadly drink. He discovered all too late he had been fooled. As he lie dying in his bed with his loving wife soothing him and unaware of all that had taken place around her, he confessed; begging forgiveness and leaving her ears ringing from the life of lies and murder. In a blind rage, she pulled all of his teeth and left him; bleeding and alone, retreating to her private chamber where she fell into madness. She spent the remainder of her days sauntering the land, visiting children and collecting their teeth, dispelling her fortune and searching in vain for her son. Even after her body gave out, she did not cease. She continued on... searching... dubbed the tooth fairy. But this has taken its toll on the once generous and loving queen.
Her soul is restless and her need so great, a despair so immense that her spirit has begun to search not just for the lost and loose. She has begun to peer jealously inside those innocent, dozing mouths where even more teeth hide ~ and if only she could have them, take them, she might have her greatest treasure restored; her son's twinkle. She bitterly questions why these children should be allowed to laugh and grin; to enjoy what her baby could not. Her anger has changed her and changed what those ivory jewels mean. She no longer believes she should pay for what is cast aside and taken for granted~ she thinks she is owed for her suffering and that of her lost boy. She hates you; your pearly barking and polished beaming and she will find you and it is now you who owe ~ for her loss, for her dead son's gaping and bloody mouth and her cheated sad life.
Sleep tight my little darlings.
Happy Halloween. This is for my daughter who gave me the idea. "Write it. I know you can." I hope my little girl gets a squeal of laughter and a shiver from this and you as well. Thanks for coming over. I hope we can do it again soon.
She was a beautiful queen who naturally had a beautiful son. They were adored in the kingdom by all; except the king. He was a narcissist, an arrogant soul; wanting all things for himself, whether it was love or gold. But the queen and the prince were kind and caring for those less fortunate creating a loving name for themselves across the land. They fed the hungry, gave to the poor all of which infuriated the pompous, greedy lord. And so on the day that the darling prince with the beautiful smile and warm heart wandered off to play in the wood instead of studying his lessons, this wretched king sent his henchman in to destroy the baby royal.
The boy did not join them for tea. Nor did he return to sup. Night fell as did his mother's heart. She begged for help to search for him. Many in her kingdom scoured the forest but to no avail. After several mornings void of the joyful child's giggling, along came a note demanding money for the valuable prince. The queen begged her husband to pay, stating that nothing was worth more than their angelic son's toothy grin. The king nodded, feigned concern and fatherly fear, even declared he would give his last coin but he did nothing. He lied when he said he sent his best men to search near and far. He put back all the money and gold he ostentatiously displayed for payment. Nothing more was heard. After a fortnight, the crumpled body of the lost was found. He was beaten and bloody; his beautiful smile ruined as all his teeth had been harshly yanked. The queen fell into an inconsolable despair. She wandered restlessly day and night, calling out to her angel child. She would stop at cottages, asking if they had seen her son, the prince. One day, she found a small girl sitting by the water's edge. She wept softly to herself. The queen approached and sat next to her.
"Why tears little one?"
"My mouth is broken." she looked up through teary eyes and held out a tiny white pearl; her baby tooth. A small ember glowed inside the Royal's chest as she reached out and touched it.
"May I have it?" she queried.
The baby girl began to close her fist, hesitant to give up something of her own, a part of her, but the queen quickly reached in her purse and pulled out a coin.
"Here. For your trouble." she eagerly rushed quivering at the thought holding the gleaming treasure.
The child glanced at the shiny gold and rejoiced. She snatched it up and curtsied to her queen thanking her. Her majesty plopped it victoriously it in her pocket and hurried back to the castle where she put the ivory gem in a small velvet purse. There was peace in her heart but it was not so easily satisfied. She needed more of them ~ all of them. So began her travels far and wide~ checking with any and all children for loose, lost teeth for which she would gladly pay to restore the smile of her son, bringing him back.
Her husband saw the gold she was taking away and grew furious. He plotted to kill her thinking only of the riches he would preserve. One night, when he could take no more, he demanded she be poisoned; telling the staff to bring it in her drink after her favorite meal had been laid before her. But the servants had seen enough of his cruelty and known too much deceit, choosing instead to give their horrendous lord the deadly drink. He discovered all too late he had been fooled. As he lie dying in his bed with his loving wife soothing him and unaware of all that had taken place around her, he confessed; begging forgiveness and leaving her ears ringing from the life of lies and murder. In a blind rage, she pulled all of his teeth and left him; bleeding and alone, retreating to her private chamber where she fell into madness. She spent the remainder of her days sauntering the land, visiting children and collecting their teeth, dispelling her fortune and searching in vain for her son. Even after her body gave out, she did not cease. She continued on... searching... dubbed the tooth fairy. But this has taken its toll on the once generous and loving queen.
Her soul is restless and her need so great, a despair so immense that her spirit has begun to search not just for the lost and loose. She has begun to peer jealously inside those innocent, dozing mouths where even more teeth hide ~ and if only she could have them, take them, she might have her greatest treasure restored; her son's twinkle. She bitterly questions why these children should be allowed to laugh and grin; to enjoy what her baby could not. Her anger has changed her and changed what those ivory jewels mean. She no longer believes she should pay for what is cast aside and taken for granted~ she thinks she is owed for her suffering and that of her lost boy. She hates you; your pearly barking and polished beaming and she will find you and it is now you who owe ~ for her loss, for her dead son's gaping and bloody mouth and her cheated sad life.
Sleep tight my little darlings.
Happy Halloween. This is for my daughter who gave me the idea. "Write it. I know you can." I hope my little girl gets a squeal of laughter and a shiver from this and you as well. Thanks for coming over. I hope we can do it again soon.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
Warriors and Heroes
The day was rushed. We are getting ready for my baby's graduation (and subsequent celebratory festival) and I am super busy making lists of lists of lists. There is the important stuff, the hot topics, the Uber important and then there's brushing the toilet, spraying Febreeze, hoping it lasts, and praying for sunshine.
The toddlers (my three fuzzikids) were giddy and bothersome doing what they do best; interpreting Mommy's mood and nibble at it. I needed to get chores done. I needed to make calls. I needed... needed... needed.
Now I know it sounds like I was panicking but I was not. I was simply suiting up for the American Ninja Warrior- Mom edition. I had to dodge the growing laundry pile, try to make it down the deadly dog steps (this is an obstacle where my guffaw of a dog, Mulligan, shoves his nose into my back or up my butt and encourages me to trip, stumble or fall down the stairs while bubbling out dirty words ~ it's his favorite game. I am not a fan and not just because I suck at it. THAT would make me a bitter loser) and conquer the dishwasher drop (THIS obstacle is where the dishwasher lid comes open and all fuzzikids feel compelled to attempt to get inside and feast like it's Golden Corral on Surf n Turf night~ again, not a fan but I am a WARRIOR dammit) and the coup de gras, the trash bag toss. Oh I was in rare form and was feeling the burn of determination and success. I was gonna hit that button (the garage door button) get outside and GO OUT ~
What's that saying about best laid plans?
Well, I had it until the trash bag hit the can in the garage. It cracked the side and popped open, dumping papers and coffee filters and yucky, dirty trash at my feet. (insert dramatic sigh and eye roll if you feel so inclined. I did.) But I stepped down and angrily plucked the now empty bag and hit my knees. Oh I was gonna pray alright. Pray I could get this junk done and just move on. I wanted to GO OUT.
I don't know where it came from, the bent dog food lid, or should I call it the evil shiv of pain and slicing? Because that is what it did. It sliced me. Deep. It bit me so fast that all I could do was hiss and then hold my breath while my brain tried to catch up screaming in my ears "WHAT HAPPENED? I FELT SOMETHING ~ CUT! ARE WE CUT?" but my body was in warrior mode so it kept picking up trash and papers. It ignored the growing change in color of those papers from white to red. In fact, it shouted at my brain to move faster! So I did. Ignoring now that it looked like I was trying to pick up liquid with my hands and put it in the bag. Then the smell hit me, copper. I began to see speckles dancing around laughing at me. I felt a little ... confused.
"Get inside Stupid YOU'RE BLEEDING!" I got up (the trash was picked up so my body allowed it.) and stepped inside. How do I stop the bleeding? Paper towels of course but not just ANY ... no... Viva. I grabbed a little sheet and wrapped my finger. It instantly turned red. Ooops better get another... and another... and another.. huh... a little worse than I thought. I applied pressure. Then a little more and some more until my pulse could be felt in my teeth and heard next door. I put my hand on top of my head. Raise it right? You betcha. I walked around and wiggled my fingers so it looked like a deranged Halloween party hat. More towels please. Yes, just give me the roll.
I made my way upstairs to where the band aids are. No issue there. (another towel or four please ~ hand on head- wiggle fingers.) I think it might be a good idea to rinse off. This is untrue. The minute water hits my finger, a flap of skin swishes to the side. I see a flash of white. Bone? oops. More towels please. Direct pressure. Hand on head. I pace around my bathroom and wonder if I will get in trouble if Cheech...
"What are you doing?"
(insert that "uh-oh" theme song. It's appropriate)
"Nothing"
"Yeah?"
The phrase in our house: If I'm asking, I already know. For a brief moment I wonder how but considering the fact that I have two rolls of Viva around my finger that are as red as bricks...
"I... think I cut myself."
"I think so too. Let me see"
"NO!" I pinch harder, put it on my head and close my eyes. If I can't see him... he can't see me... right? Didn't we all try that when we were uhhhh FOUR???? (sigh ~ go ahead. I'm a wussy)
"Let's go get stitches."
"NOOOOOO. No No No... Uh-uh. Nope."
"Why are you being like this?"
"They won't numb me. Just sew it like it was a sweater!" I hiss tears welling up.
"Honey, I bet they will. They'll use..."
"A NEEDLE! DOUBLE NO. I'D RATHER EAT HOT GLASS!" (for those of you who don't know already, I have a phobia of needles, bees... sharp pointy things.... and being chased but we can revisit that)
"You're being silly. Give it. Now let me see...."
And childishly I do. My own loving warrior, bandages me. He never asks again and helps me. My finger is throbbing and I am in so much pain I want to cry but I don't because I don't want to go get stitches. He never questions or scolds me. He goes downstairs and we make dinner. I really just watch as this hero of heroes makes a king's feast for a cowardly jester.
He gives me Tylenol and kisses my head. He smiles softly and tells me the house looks great... aside from some stray blood splatter. I warn him that the police will question him if I disappear. Luminal will not be his friend. He makes me dessert. I ask him why it tastes like bitter almonds and he takes a bite of mine and says ~ always together.
He gets ready for work and I am sad because I want to simply sit and worship my hero. I want to fall asleep in his safe, first-aid ready arms.
"Have a good day Hon." I say as he heads out the door.
"Will do. Could you put paper towels on the grocery list? We're very low on Viva."
Warriors til the end.
Hello there. It seems weird that we are here together again. I said I would try and I will... again and again missing my friend and mentor all the while. I can't tell you the number of times I started and threw out my work. I am still a little shaky but I always feel better sharing family stories; good and bad. Thanks for visiting. I have another on the way in a week or so (gotta get through graduation first) but it will be a fiction piece. It's been too long since I've done what I love, write.
Thank you for visiting. You're good company.
See you soon.
The toddlers (my three fuzzikids) were giddy and bothersome doing what they do best; interpreting Mommy's mood and nibble at it. I needed to get chores done. I needed to make calls. I needed... needed... needed.
Now I know it sounds like I was panicking but I was not. I was simply suiting up for the American Ninja Warrior- Mom edition. I had to dodge the growing laundry pile, try to make it down the deadly dog steps (this is an obstacle where my guffaw of a dog, Mulligan, shoves his nose into my back or up my butt and encourages me to trip, stumble or fall down the stairs while bubbling out dirty words ~ it's his favorite game. I am not a fan and not just because I suck at it. THAT would make me a bitter loser) and conquer the dishwasher drop (THIS obstacle is where the dishwasher lid comes open and all fuzzikids feel compelled to attempt to get inside and feast like it's Golden Corral on Surf n Turf night~ again, not a fan but I am a WARRIOR dammit) and the coup de gras, the trash bag toss. Oh I was in rare form and was feeling the burn of determination and success. I was gonna hit that button (the garage door button) get outside and GO OUT ~
What's that saying about best laid plans?
Well, I had it until the trash bag hit the can in the garage. It cracked the side and popped open, dumping papers and coffee filters and yucky, dirty trash at my feet. (insert dramatic sigh and eye roll if you feel so inclined. I did.) But I stepped down and angrily plucked the now empty bag and hit my knees. Oh I was gonna pray alright. Pray I could get this junk done and just move on. I wanted to GO OUT.
I don't know where it came from, the bent dog food lid, or should I call it the evil shiv of pain and slicing? Because that is what it did. It sliced me. Deep. It bit me so fast that all I could do was hiss and then hold my breath while my brain tried to catch up screaming in my ears "WHAT HAPPENED? I FELT SOMETHING ~ CUT! ARE WE CUT?" but my body was in warrior mode so it kept picking up trash and papers. It ignored the growing change in color of those papers from white to red. In fact, it shouted at my brain to move faster! So I did. Ignoring now that it looked like I was trying to pick up liquid with my hands and put it in the bag. Then the smell hit me, copper. I began to see speckles dancing around laughing at me. I felt a little ... confused.
"Get inside Stupid YOU'RE BLEEDING!" I got up (the trash was picked up so my body allowed it.) and stepped inside. How do I stop the bleeding? Paper towels of course but not just ANY ... no... Viva. I grabbed a little sheet and wrapped my finger. It instantly turned red. Ooops better get another... and another... and another.. huh... a little worse than I thought. I applied pressure. Then a little more and some more until my pulse could be felt in my teeth and heard next door. I put my hand on top of my head. Raise it right? You betcha. I walked around and wiggled my fingers so it looked like a deranged Halloween party hat. More towels please. Yes, just give me the roll.
I made my way upstairs to where the band aids are. No issue there. (another towel or four please ~ hand on head- wiggle fingers.) I think it might be a good idea to rinse off. This is untrue. The minute water hits my finger, a flap of skin swishes to the side. I see a flash of white. Bone? oops. More towels please. Direct pressure. Hand on head. I pace around my bathroom and wonder if I will get in trouble if Cheech...
"What are you doing?"
(insert that "uh-oh" theme song. It's appropriate)
"Nothing"
"Yeah?"
The phrase in our house: If I'm asking, I already know. For a brief moment I wonder how but considering the fact that I have two rolls of Viva around my finger that are as red as bricks...
"I... think I cut myself."
"I think so too. Let me see"
"NO!" I pinch harder, put it on my head and close my eyes. If I can't see him... he can't see me... right? Didn't we all try that when we were uhhhh FOUR???? (sigh ~ go ahead. I'm a wussy)
"Let's go get stitches."
"NOOOOOO. No No No... Uh-uh. Nope."
"Why are you being like this?"
"They won't numb me. Just sew it like it was a sweater!" I hiss tears welling up.
"Honey, I bet they will. They'll use..."
"A NEEDLE! DOUBLE NO. I'D RATHER EAT HOT GLASS!" (for those of you who don't know already, I have a phobia of needles, bees... sharp pointy things.... and being chased but we can revisit that)
"You're being silly. Give it. Now let me see...."
And childishly I do. My own loving warrior, bandages me. He never asks again and helps me. My finger is throbbing and I am in so much pain I want to cry but I don't because I don't want to go get stitches. He never questions or scolds me. He goes downstairs and we make dinner. I really just watch as this hero of heroes makes a king's feast for a cowardly jester.
He gives me Tylenol and kisses my head. He smiles softly and tells me the house looks great... aside from some stray blood splatter. I warn him that the police will question him if I disappear. Luminal will not be his friend. He makes me dessert. I ask him why it tastes like bitter almonds and he takes a bite of mine and says ~ always together.
He gets ready for work and I am sad because I want to simply sit and worship my hero. I want to fall asleep in his safe, first-aid ready arms.
"Have a good day Hon." I say as he heads out the door.
"Will do. Could you put paper towels on the grocery list? We're very low on Viva."
Warriors til the end.
Hello there. It seems weird that we are here together again. I said I would try and I will... again and again missing my friend and mentor all the while. I can't tell you the number of times I started and threw out my work. I am still a little shaky but I always feel better sharing family stories; good and bad. Thanks for visiting. I have another on the way in a week or so (gotta get through graduation first) but it will be a fiction piece. It's been too long since I've done what I love, write.
Thank you for visiting. You're good company.
See you soon.
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