Freshly Dusted

Nothing makes me feel more helpless,

Than watching my reflection in the mirror. 

The woman staring back at me is reckless

And everything I know about myself falls away.

The binds that chafe my necks and wrists,

Are born of invisible insecurities,

Tightening around me with a painful twist

Every time I remember they are there.

I feel this strangled hold of desperation

Choke away my air.

The throbbing lashes of an entire nation,

Steal my breath and mock my pain.

But if I glance away,

I momentarily recover a sense of who I am.

With that, the ropes relax enough

To give me room to breathe.

I could not tell if I was awake simply by opening my eyes. In my mind, a nightmarish fog drifted around my body, but I only knew it was there from the  damp wind that occasionally brushed my skin. At least, I hoped it was only fog, for the darkness encased me too perfectly to see what lay around me.

Lifting a hand to my face, or at least I think I did, I shivered at the lack of resistance. My body was weightless, and every move merely made me feel as if I was about to drift away into the depths above or below me.

I did not even know if anything lay beyond me, but it scared me more to remain where I was than to continue on. Therefore, I held my breath (if I was indeed breathing at all), and I took a cautious step forward. Nothing terrible seemed to greet me, so I began to wander onwards, mastering this fear of the unknown, or at least maintaining some manner of control over the darkness.

I had not gone far before I realized that my footsteps were making more sound than they should, echoing endlessly as if in an enclosed chamber. I stopped, hesitating, but the beat continued on without me, thumping and moving again in rhythm. I took another step forward, and I found myself walking in time with the massive reverberations, everything falling prey to the will of the vessel’s heartbeat.

This thought scared me, so I began to run, abandoning caution in favor of desperation. The heartbeat continued on, heedless of my panic.

The fog began to sweep faster by me now, stinging my arms with tiny shrapnel of ice and other freezing materials. I shivered, and I wished for a coat around me, but none such appeared.

The cold forced me to slow my pace, but still, I tried to keep moving, for fear that I would freeze where I stood if I lingered longer. The temperature was dropping at an exponential rate…it felt like I could barely lift one foot in front of the other.

And then, I realized that I could no longer lift my feet at all, for they had frozen to the ground. Still, the maniacal beat of a monster’s heart filled my ears, and as the ice began to climb my legs, I realized in terror that the heartbeat could be none other than my own. 

I willed it to stop, trying desperately to block out the noise…but my own body betrayed me yet again. The ice had reached my chest now, slowly suffocating me and blocking out the air that filled my lungs.

I panicked, screaming wildly into the darkness, but I could not even hear my own voice over the sound of the heartbeat. It was growing louder and louder and louder…

And then I jerked awake, pulling my blankets away from my body in distaste, wondering how I could possibly be this sweaty, yet still be dreaming of freezing to death. Shivering again slightly at the thought, I pulled myself to a sitting position and began to dress. There was no way I was going back to sleep again after that.

“Do you believe in true love?” Lizzie whispered.

When I didn’t answer right away, she twisted her head around to meet my gaze, trying to discern from my blue irises the nature of the secrets I hid. “Yes, I do,” I murmured in response, kissing her forehead. I hoped that would be the end of it, but she squirmed out of my grasp, attempting to study my face in the dim lighting. The movie glared on behind us, but neither of us paid any attention to it.

“Really?” she asked. “Have you ever fallen in love?”

I could not read her face, which was unfortunate. If she would only think of me as more than her best friend, I would be happy forever. Yet, after scrolling through the potential outcomes of answering in the affirmative, I decided that it would be better to change the subject as soon as possible.

“Yes, why do you ask? Do you believe in love?”

For a moment, Lizzie stared at me, conflicted, before shaking her head. “I believe in love,” she said. “Like with parents and friends and siblings. But true love is just a myth, right? Created for and exaggerated by movies and books, and then when someone gets too carried away with romancing their own life in the real world, it just…doesn’t work…so no, I don’t believe in true love.”

My soul sank a little inside my chest, but I just laughed and kissed her again, pulling her back down to rest her head on my chest. For a moment, we watched the movie in silence, but I just could not let the idea go. “But what about your writing?” I asked. “You write true love into everything!”

She hesitated for a moment, lips pursed as she tried to think of the right way to explain her thinking to me. “Well, true love is a fictional concept to me, and it occasionally fits in my fiction. But I don’t write unconditional love! That’s something only God can provide, and no human on this planet can possibly love someone unconditionally.”

I nodded, trying to disguise my emotions. To tell her how I felt at this moment would cause her to declare my love fictional without a second thought. “Do you think I could get you to fall in love with someone?” I laughed, despite the tightness in my chest. “Maybe that neighbor boy, what’s his name…” I tapped my chin, pretending to have forgotten.

She laughed, as I had hoped. Rather than answer though, Lizzie pulled my hand away from my face, playing with my fingers.

“If I were to fall in love with anyone—which I think is impossible—” she interjected, smiling. “Then I would fall in love with you.” Lizzie did not look at me, but if she did, she would have seen an unquenchable smile spreading across my face. A gunshot came from the film, and we both turned to look at the actors dashing across the screen. A moment passed, and then her words cut the silence between us again. “You’re so kind and caring; I have honestly never met someone like you,” she said all in one breath.

I wrapped my arms around her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “And I would fall in love with you.”

She shivered as my warm breath hit the nape of her neck, so I just held her closer to me, watching blindly as the movie scrolled on. All I could see was Lizzie, and all I could hear was her voice, saying, “I would fall in love with you.” When the end credits began to scroll across the screen, it took me a few moments to realize the movie was over.

“Did you like it?” Lizzie asked me, sitting up and stretching. The cool air coursing over my skin reminded me of how our sweat had mingled, and I grinned.

“I loved it.” And I definitely was not talking about the movie.

Lizzie smiled, and then she began to ramble about a similar film she had watched with one of her other friends. I laughed, asking her questions, drawing her out more…anything to get her to stay a little longer. However, she had always been a good girl, never one to stay out past her bedtime, and eventually yawned, glanced at her phone and apologized.

“See you tomorrow, David?” she asked casually, typing quickly on the miniature keyboard.

“Absolutely! What time should I make sure I clean everything up by?”

She laughed and shrugged. “I’ll text you when I know.”

Pausing at the door, Lizzie frowned for a moment, looking around. I held up her keys and grinned. “Looking for these?” I asked.

She nodded, and I stepped forward to give them to her. We were close to each other, closer than we should probably have been. I slid the metal into her palm, hesitating. My heartbeat had a mind of its own, but now was the perfect time to tell her…

However, just as I worked up the courage to open my mouth, she cut me off, stepping back. “I had a great time tonight, and I hope we can do it again! I know I can always count on you to help me out of a tight spot. You’re my best friend, David.”

I swallowed my disappointment and forced a smile. “And you’re mine, Lizzie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watched until she had pulled out of the driveway, and then I pulled the door closed and fell against it in exasperation. Sliding to the floor, I cradled my head in my hands, marveling at how easily it had all gone wrong.

“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” I said aloud in an attempt to slow my heartbeat. It did not work.

Kara washed her hands the way the preschool teacher had told her to, scrubbing them with the soap and water until they were red. She loved to come to the bathroom and play with the water when she could, if only because it gave her a thrill of excitement at school. Yes, Kara loved her teachers, but they sometimes got boring, and even Michael, her first and true love, sometimes held her hand too much. She loved him though, and she planned to marry him someday. 

Is it possible to miss a person this much

When they are someone you have never known?

Is it possible to feel this magic touch

Of phantom fingers adrift across your own?

My friend and I are lovers

In the most innocent of ways.

Though they will never lie beneath my covers

I hope that here they'll always stay.

Through mystic fields we sometimes walk,

Hands held firmly, side by side.

We soar together yet do not talk,

For voices reach not across the Great Divide.

Is it possible to sing a crooning tale,

To someone you will never meet?

Is it possible to look beyond Death’s veil,

And not go mad from such a feat?

Well, it is now the fourth day of April, and I am busy working on all kinds of projects, mostly just trying not to go mad from being cooped up inside during the coronavirus quarantining. 

Besides recording podcasts, writing news articles, and taking a crash course in physics, I've also been doing a lot of writing. Recently, I took on the Camp NaNoWrimo April challenge, and I am attempting to write 500 words every day. Fantasy or realistic fiction have always been two of my favorite genres to write, and this year's camp is no exception. 

My current work in progress, which I have named Istorija for the time being, is a fantasy novel featuring four main characters who have next to no similarities. Although I have had the general world in mind for several months, I abandoned almost all my preparation on March 30th when I saw the following picture:

When I saw that image, I began to wonder what would happen if I made one of my side characters the primary adventurer. Immediately, it seemed that a whole new world of opportunities had opened up before me, and the places where I had been stuck drifted away! Now, even though my story line is not as smooth as it was before, I still feel like I am going places with this novel, and I can not wait to get even further into it!

As a side note, it is my plan to be more active on Best Attempt at Sanity in the upcoming months. This post also marks a transition from my traditional style of only posting fiction and poetry, to a more relaxed version where I post about my creative journey and more of my personal life. I'd love to hear more commentary and sharing of ideas, because that is how one truly thrives in their writing!

So please comment down below if you are doing April NaNoWrimo, or if you are working on an unrelated story idea of your own! I would love to hear them. 

The sky was as dark as the drop below me, and it seemed that a spotlight shone on this cliff that I was standing on. I tried to swallow the terror that encroached upon me by breathing deeply, clenching my fists, and willing myself to be fearless. I glanced back into the dark again, hoping for a light to appear. 

And suddenly, I saw a hallowing of gentle warmth below me, and the dark cliff caved beneath the weight of the joy, sending me plummeting soundlessly downward. I landed on sandy beaches, tense until I felt the texture of the sand, commemorating the gentle memories of the past. And as I looked around, I realized that a river had lain beneath the cliff the entire time, and I presumed it had three parts. I stood here in the past. What lay ahead could only be known as the present and the future. 

The very idea of these locations terrified me, and I hid my eyes from the forward current of the river, choosing instead to remain and relax within these sweet memories of the past. Dipping my hand in the water, I saw my sister, dancing with me to her favorite song. I lifted the water to my mouth, and I saw the best friend I had only known in childhood. I took a slight sip of the water, and I found that it was pure, if tangy, just like the champagne my father had let me taste all those years ago. 

I groaned in ecstasy, wading deeper into the river, trying to bathe myself in remembrance, but I went too far, and I was swept into the current leading to the present. As the wind and the waves carried me away from my safety, I cried out in fear, but there was nothing I could do about it. Rocks began to appear in the water, jutting outwards and tormenting me with their existence. 

My body slammed into each of them, slicing my skin apart and delivering my blood to these pain-filled waters. I cried to God to save me. I prayed and prayed, but God seemed not to answer, and I saw no means of deliverance. I was wet and trembling, and the tears coursing down my face could have only be more of the water that encased my body. I fought to stay afloat, but the winds and the waves were too much for me, and my head fell underwater. 

As the water began to make its way through my body, filling my lungs with a foreign substance, I retched and gagged, praying for God knows what...and the memories returned, breaking me apart with their ferocity. I saw the people I had built my life around crumbling and crushing me. I saw the person I had loved, abandoning me for someone else. Again, I relived my role model in all things, dying...and I was there again beside his hospital bed, crying and crying and crying and crying... 

And suddenly my head broke through the surface again, and the waves had died down. The wind had stopped. Everything had fallen still. And I took a moment in which I merely breathed, and I heard the song of a bird in the distance, proof that there was still life amid all this darkness. With that, I remembered the bird that I was nursing back to life. 

With that one small memory, all the good things came rushing back as well, and I recalled the laughter my sister and I had shared. I thought about the person I had become, and the good moments I had made. I thought about the friends who had called, bringing gifts and cards and kind words. And this time, the tears were not so much of sadness, but of missed opportunities. Did I truly want to leave all this behind? Taking a deep breath, I swam towards the beaches along either side of the present, and though the sand was studded with sharp shells that tore at my feet, it was still beautiful. 

Then, I glanced ahead to the future. Always before, the future had been sealed to my vision, cut off from my thoughts, and shrouded in a veil of mist that hid what lay beyond from my view. Yet now, as I peered vainly into its depths, I gasped as the fog began to peel away, affording me a glimpse of what lay beyond. Two channels divided outward from the river of the present that I walked beside. One was quiet, and the rivers were slow and peaceful. However, huge rocks jutted from the riverbed. Only those good at navigation could possibly manage to make it through the river. The second channel appeared rough, and the waves roared higher than my head in places. Yet, there were no rocks to bash my body against. Furthermore, both pathways led to the same destination: beautiful and crystal-clear beaches stretching as far as the eye could see. Drawn to them, I took a step forward, but the fog immediately covered the river until nothing more could be seen but the present. 

I blinked once...twice...and then the darkness was around me again. The cliff I had been standing on was now an office building, and the sky was pierced by the stars above. Below me lay only a river of traffic lights, streaming across my vision and blurring it. I took a deep breath and stepped backwards: away from the cliff and towards the future that awaited.

Don’t wait up for me, my dear,

I am counting in my room

The multitude of galaxies,

While the moon above me looms.

Yes, the numbers swirl in droves tonight,

Singing praises of the skies,

The universe collides like kaleidoscopes,

And yet another discipline completes a tie.

Math and science,

English and art,

Dance beneath the stars

With a single beating heart.

None are superior,

And all of them kind,

Working together,

With a similar mind.

What’s that you ask me?

I’m just attempting to derive.

And through calculations discover,

What makes a man alive.

It’s a question of y,

With a variable comprised of x,

And a couple questioned numbers,

And some dramatization effects.

Yes, my dear, it’s time…

Time to sleep tonight.

Math can wait another day,

Here the moon will share its light.

The sky looked full enough to hold all the wetness in the world. I laughed, staring upwards, envisioning the rain falling onto my burning face, cooling it gradually, and taking away the fever that occupied my reflections. I welcomed the thought of precipitation, the last positive idea left to me. As the wind rushed past, I held within me the smiles of childhood, splashing through puddles, completely innocent of what lay beyond.

The cold seared a hole through my jeans, and I shifted on the stone bench. Any average passerby would believe I was just examining the view, but it seemed that only I knew the darker implications of the ravine. As always, I was alone.

The wind picked up even more, tearing salt-water from my eyes and making them sting. I blinked, ducking my head for a moment as my hair caught in the gusts, whipping the long, brown strands into my face. Just as average as the rest of me, my locks helped me blend into a crowd without struggle.

My hair took me onto another thought tangent, as I pulled it away from my eyes. All anyone had ever seemed to care about was hair…hair and boys that was. That I did not want a relationship, they said they understood. However, I had been constantly given unwarranted advice on the best way to style my locks, tagged in videos on Facebook, and mocked openly in work meetings.

Returning to the present, I gave up at the futility of holding my hair back, and I just let it wave, sighing slightly to myself. The tips of the strands slapped my face like miniature whips, but individually they did not hurt. Glancing down at the scars running up and down my arms, I wished I had brought the knife—anything to break the numbness I had encompassed myself in.

God had once held power over me, and looking back, I longed for those days again. I had feared Him, respected Him, and obeyed Him. However, after everything that had happened to me, I doubted at times that there truly was a God, let alone a God with my best interests at heart. Besides, when I pictured Heaven—a beautiful place filled with pleasures of all kinds, including huge green, growing plants, I smiled softly to myself. It was a place I could never hope to obtain entrance to. Besides, I had always had a sort-of demented love for fire. Perhaps the flames of hell would be a better place for me anyway.

For the final time, I tried to force myself to cry. Now that the original cause for pain was gone, dead, and buried, I attempted to melt the heart that I intentionally froze all those years ago. I challenged myself to break down the rocky walls that I built too high. I wanted to feel love and laughter and life again, and most of all, I wanted to be able to cry.

I wanted to unbury the painful memories that I built into that wall around my heart. I wanted to carry them with me, before eventually letting them go and spreading their ashes to the winds.

Tears finally slipped down my face, but I felt no emotional release. I knew that they were only caused by the storm’s gusts, and in any other place they would have been locked in the recesses of my eye cavities, leaving my face as dry as the bench I was sitting on.

I regretted that I had become this cold: this hard. I have attempted to break my walls before, scribbling them out onto paper, but such only seemed to cement them further. Writing my fancies down made them real, and I had never handled reality checks well.

Standing, I made my way over to the side of the drop, gauging the distance with a practiced eye. Like the Great Kate Weather Machine, I had always had a certain knack for being able to tell how far—or how long it would take—to fall.

If I was going to do the deed, this was the place to do it, I decided. The entire reason that I had kept living this long was to see the Grand Canyon, and now that I was here, I felt that there were no reasons left to me.

I wished I felt the pain of my actions.

I wished I regretted what I was about to do.

I wished I…

Wishes were no longer relevant, I realized. Alfred Lord Tennyson had written, “Theirs not to make reply,/ Theirs not to reason why,/Theirs but to do and die.”

Never before had this poem seemed so perfect.

I took a step forward.

Then another.

One more…

And then I was falling, falling, and somehow I pivoted to face the deepening gray sky. In that moment, I realized the irreversible effect of what I had done, and the walls began to crumble, breaking down around me.

A single tear, born of grief and regret and despair, slipped down my face, but it was too late. And as the ground approached, I stared into the atmosphere above me.

The sky looked full enough to hold all the wetness in the world.