"So What if I'm Hungover?" is again written in a three-tiered metaphoric structure, and is a continuation of the adventures started in, "My Soul Mate Was Aborted!"
Creative liberty is taken, but it is still written within the genre of Punctuated Realism.
As with all good stories, it is best to start at the beginning. The entries are organized in chronological order by month to your right. Simply click on the month, then click on the entries in order from top to bottom to keep chronology. You can also click the button on the bottom left side of the page marked 'newer post' for the next available entry once you've started.
Friday, May 21, 2010
The End
"We're good!" Eli says to me as I fidget in my chair waiting for him to flip through the last few pages of the script.
"It's not too out there?" I say with a dash of self-doubt that every creative person has.
"No," he says and shakes his head. "I like how you turned the story inside out and made it so much more than I ever thought it could be."
I smile.
There's nothing weird about being back on the lot and sitting in Eli's office. It's as if I never left. It's as if everything that happened these last few months evaporated ~ like a hazy dream that you can't quite remember.
"So....I guess that's it then, right?" I say and start to stand. If Eli's happy with the script, they can start attaching a Director and casting. I don't really need to do anything else at this point.
"I feel like we should celebrate," he says.
It's true. There is something very anticlimactic about the atmosphere. I've just written something that's ready to start going into pre-production, and a simple see ya later, doesn't really seem to suffice.
Eli walks over to his cabinet and pulls out a bottle of champagne.
"Shall we?" he says.
I tell him that I have to drive and the last thing I want is to end up sharing a cell with Lindsay Lohan today.
We laugh.
I start to walk away when Eli stops me.
"Oh! Wait! I almost forgot."
I turn around to see Eli scurrying over to his desk and pulling out a bag. He walks it over to me, and I look inside to see --
my shoes.
I laugh.
I thank him and we hug, and a moment later I'm walking down the hall.
There's no musical score. No poignant final encounter with someone important that makes this moment special.
Just me. Walking.
It's funny how mundane real life can actually be.
I get outside and walk towards my car. Consuela sits in the passenger seat.
"Where to?" she says to me as I slip into the driver's seat and start the car.
"There's somewhere we need to go," I tell her.
As we drive along, I take in the scenery. Billboards for movies that are coming out and shows that are currently starting a new season infiltrate the sky above the buildings.
I wonder how many months away we are from seeing the posters for this movie line the roads?
Is it an Oscar contender? How fantastic would that be...
A few minutes later we pull up in front of the Sports Bar where Deandra used to work. I did some research and found out that the owner has built a memorial for them beside the DJ booth, near the dance floor.
I need to pay my respects.
I walk inside, and Consuela shuffles behind me. Her Dollar Store slippers clack along the tile floors as I approach the dance floor.
I stand there for a moment, and take in a deep breath. I look down at my feet and stare at my toes. And for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I take off my flip flops and begin to dance on the dance floor. The owner smiles at me from behind the bar. He's obviously just had the floors mopped because my feet tingle from the cleaner that is still drying on the floor.
I take a deep breath, and walk over to the memorial. Cards and flowers adorn it. Some of the notes are from customers. Others are from friends and family. There's a sign with donor information for a charity that you can donate to on their behalf.
I stand here for a moment and bask in the love that people had for them. Then I look at a picture of Deandra and tell her that I finished writing my movie. It's something she really wanted for me, and it seems right to let her know that it's now done. I place the shoes that Eli returned to me in front of the memorial. Somehow it makes sense to leave them with Deandra and Charlie, here on the dance floor. Where we can always party together.
I take a step back, blow them a kiss, and return back to the dance floor to collect Consuela. But, just for fun -- the bartender plays a favourite song of ours; and so, one last time I give it my all -- barefoot, and in honour of my friends who are with me in spirit, although they can't be here in person.
I dance my heart out to the music, and try my best to feel their presence between the beats. And, when the song is over, I catch my breath; link arms with Consuela and head back towards the front door.
When I leave the dance floor, I put my flip flops back on my feet -- and brace for whatever the rest of the day will bring me.
And I don't look back.
Because neither of them would've wanted me to.
I honour them by taking healthy steps forward, and always keeping them in a very safe place in my heart. That's what they would've wanted. For me to be free and alive. Honouring them with a vibrant life. And not ever again succumbing to the pain from the evil that once crossed our path.
And somehow, as I walk back towards the car, I can feel them smiling down on me. The stars begin to twinkle in the dusk. And I know for now, that everything is going to be just fine.
"Mia," Consuela yawns as we drive back to our hotel to call it a night. It's been a long day, and right about now I could really use some sleep.
There will be plenty of meetings in the next week or so to line up new projects.
"Yes," I say to her as we detour through Bel Air and I imagine one day calling this area home.
"Yer iz gonna helps me wis da Taco Stand, no?" she says as she yawns and leans back in her seat. I like how Consuela never lets go of her dream. It's impressive.
"Absolutely." I tell her without hesitation.
"Promise?" she says to me in a child-like voice as her lids become heavy and she starts to close her eyes.
"I promise," I tell her. Even though I don't ever recall Consuela cooking for me, I think she would manage a great Taco Stand. Partly because she is so passionate about it, but mostly because I can really see it happening for her.
And I think that's half the battle. The mind over the matter, that is. Believing in yourself when the odds are against you. And never letting anything bring you down.
"It's not too out there?" I say with a dash of self-doubt that every creative person has.
"No," he says and shakes his head. "I like how you turned the story inside out and made it so much more than I ever thought it could be."
I smile.
There's nothing weird about being back on the lot and sitting in Eli's office. It's as if I never left. It's as if everything that happened these last few months evaporated ~ like a hazy dream that you can't quite remember.
"So....I guess that's it then, right?" I say and start to stand. If Eli's happy with the script, they can start attaching a Director and casting. I don't really need to do anything else at this point.
"I feel like we should celebrate," he says.
It's true. There is something very anticlimactic about the atmosphere. I've just written something that's ready to start going into pre-production, and a simple see ya later, doesn't really seem to suffice.
Eli walks over to his cabinet and pulls out a bottle of champagne.
"Shall we?" he says.
I tell him that I have to drive and the last thing I want is to end up sharing a cell with Lindsay Lohan today.
We laugh.
I start to walk away when Eli stops me.
"Oh! Wait! I almost forgot."
I turn around to see Eli scurrying over to his desk and pulling out a bag. He walks it over to me, and I look inside to see --
my shoes.
I laugh.
I thank him and we hug, and a moment later I'm walking down the hall.
There's no musical score. No poignant final encounter with someone important that makes this moment special.
Just me. Walking.
It's funny how mundane real life can actually be.
I get outside and walk towards my car. Consuela sits in the passenger seat.
"Where to?" she says to me as I slip into the driver's seat and start the car.
"There's somewhere we need to go," I tell her.
As we drive along, I take in the scenery. Billboards for movies that are coming out and shows that are currently starting a new season infiltrate the sky above the buildings.
I wonder how many months away we are from seeing the posters for this movie line the roads?
Is it an Oscar contender? How fantastic would that be...
A few minutes later we pull up in front of the Sports Bar where Deandra used to work. I did some research and found out that the owner has built a memorial for them beside the DJ booth, near the dance floor.
I need to pay my respects.
I walk inside, and Consuela shuffles behind me. Her Dollar Store slippers clack along the tile floors as I approach the dance floor.
I stand there for a moment, and take in a deep breath. I look down at my feet and stare at my toes. And for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I take off my flip flops and begin to dance on the dance floor. The owner smiles at me from behind the bar. He's obviously just had the floors mopped because my feet tingle from the cleaner that is still drying on the floor.
I take a deep breath, and walk over to the memorial. Cards and flowers adorn it. Some of the notes are from customers. Others are from friends and family. There's a sign with donor information for a charity that you can donate to on their behalf.
I stand here for a moment and bask in the love that people had for them. Then I look at a picture of Deandra and tell her that I finished writing my movie. It's something she really wanted for me, and it seems right to let her know that it's now done. I place the shoes that Eli returned to me in front of the memorial. Somehow it makes sense to leave them with Deandra and Charlie, here on the dance floor. Where we can always party together.
I take a step back, blow them a kiss, and return back to the dance floor to collect Consuela. But, just for fun -- the bartender plays a favourite song of ours; and so, one last time I give it my all -- barefoot, and in honour of my friends who are with me in spirit, although they can't be here in person.
I dance my heart out to the music, and try my best to feel their presence between the beats. And, when the song is over, I catch my breath; link arms with Consuela and head back towards the front door.
When I leave the dance floor, I put my flip flops back on my feet -- and brace for whatever the rest of the day will bring me.
And I don't look back.
Because neither of them would've wanted me to.
I honour them by taking healthy steps forward, and always keeping them in a very safe place in my heart. That's what they would've wanted. For me to be free and alive. Honouring them with a vibrant life. And not ever again succumbing to the pain from the evil that once crossed our path.
And somehow, as I walk back towards the car, I can feel them smiling down on me. The stars begin to twinkle in the dusk. And I know for now, that everything is going to be just fine.
"Mia," Consuela yawns as we drive back to our hotel to call it a night. It's been a long day, and right about now I could really use some sleep.
There will be plenty of meetings in the next week or so to line up new projects.
"Yes," I say to her as we detour through Bel Air and I imagine one day calling this area home.
"Yer iz gonna helps me wis da Taco Stand, no?" she says as she yawns and leans back in her seat. I like how Consuela never lets go of her dream. It's impressive.
"Absolutely." I tell her without hesitation.
"Promise?" she says to me in a child-like voice as her lids become heavy and she starts to close her eyes.
"I promise," I tell her. Even though I don't ever recall Consuela cooking for me, I think she would manage a great Taco Stand. Partly because she is so passionate about it, but mostly because I can really see it happening for her.
And I think that's half the battle. The mind over the matter, that is. Believing in yourself when the odds are against you. And never letting anything bring you down.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Ahhhhhh
"Can we offer you something from the bar?" a bright eyed Stewardess says to me as she leans into my row. I like how she's twisted her hair. It's very 60s. Very slick.
Why do Stewardesses always look so glamorous and put together?
Like Barbies at 30 000 feet...
"Just some water please and thank you," I say back to her and return to my laptop. I have a few hours left until I need to hand in the final draft. I've never felt so much passion for a story before. Blood is rushing through my veins. I'm excited, invigorated.
Charged...
"Mia!" Consuela leans over to see what I'm writing. Her chubby little legs dangle from the seat. Her neck pillow cocks to one side as she shoves into my personal space.
"Yer iz can not say dose sings!" she says all wide-eyed.
The Stewardess hands me my glass of water and I smile at her with thanks.
"What are you talking about?" I say and re-read what I've written. It's the crux, where my character is leaving her job -- well, actually being forced out.
And these idiots, will at some point in time, be your boss.
A higher up who only got Cs in high school and realized very
early on that the road to success in life was to make sure that
all those who are smarter than them (which, is the majority
of the population) have one disadvantage: they have to bypass
them or outshine them in order to move up.
Consuela fidgets in her seat and gives me a scowl, "Yer isn't should be saying doze sings. Da people dey will read and den dey will really hate yer!!"
"What are you talking about?" I say and ignore her as I continue to write. It's really annoying when Consuela takes everything I put on paper so literally.
"No one is going to hate me," I mutter to her when the guilt sets in and I can feel her sulking beside me.
"Yes dey iz! Yer iz saying all der nasty sings and der people will sink dat yer iz nasty!!" she whines as she crosses her arms and sits back in her seat.
I stop what I'm doing, take a deep breath, and turn toward her.
"Consuela, the people will not hate me. What I write, and who I am, are completely different. One is not directly related to the other. And besides, it's important for my character to get angry at this point in the movie, her whole world is falling apart -- which is a good thing. When your world falls apart you have no choice but to build a new one." I say and turn back to my screen.
I really don't have time for her paranoia right now. I have less than three hours to tie everything up into a nice little bow. And, what I need right now is to get into the head space of a girl who feels robbed. A girl who has worked her whole life towards a career that is being taken away from her because her destiny lies somewhere else. A destiny more appropriate for her -- but for now, she is very angry. She hates her boss. She hates everyone in the corporate world.
It makes sense.
Consuela begins to snore. I dig around in my laptop bag for earplugs, which a moment later I insert to block out the noise. I need full concentration right now. Nothing can distract me from being my character for the moment. Everything I lay down matters -- it sets the foundation for her choices later on in the movie.
I take a sip of my water and re-read the rant I've just written for her as she's fired.
It's funny.
I like it.
I can totally see a saucy actress loving this particular scene. How often do we really get to say what we want to other people?
I chuckle a bit more as I really bugger up my puppet. She fumes. She rants. She gets dragged out by security.
All hope is lost...
Poor little thing. If it wasn't for the fact that I already know how the whole thing is going to end, I would actually feel sorry for her. But I don't. I revel in her pain because as the writer, it gives me fuel to propel her next decision.
I love this character. She's everything I've ever wanted for a Heroine. Sassy, but kind. Smart, but oblivious. Pretty, but unsure.
I make sure to save what I've just written. I couldn't bare the thought of losing the words I've just poured onto the page. They're perfect.
And so, as I look out the window and see the clouds floating by, I sit back in my seat and stretch my arms. Then I do my foot and ankle stretches to avoid deep vein thrombosis. And, as I rotate my ankles counter clockwise, and then clockwise, I think about the best way to wrap up the entire movie.
I still have to write the final scene.
Why do Stewardesses always look so glamorous and put together?
Like Barbies at 30 000 feet...
"Just some water please and thank you," I say back to her and return to my laptop. I have a few hours left until I need to hand in the final draft. I've never felt so much passion for a story before. Blood is rushing through my veins. I'm excited, invigorated.
Charged...
"Mia!" Consuela leans over to see what I'm writing. Her chubby little legs dangle from the seat. Her neck pillow cocks to one side as she shoves into my personal space.
"Yer iz can not say dose sings!" she says all wide-eyed.
The Stewardess hands me my glass of water and I smile at her with thanks.
"What are you talking about?" I say and re-read what I've written. It's the crux, where my character is leaving her job -- well, actually being forced out.
And these idiots, will at some point in time, be your boss.
A higher up who only got Cs in high school and realized very
early on that the road to success in life was to make sure that
all those who are smarter than them (which, is the majority
of the population) have one disadvantage: they have to bypass
them or outshine them in order to move up.
Consuela fidgets in her seat and gives me a scowl, "Yer isn't should be saying doze sings. Da people dey will read and den dey will really hate yer!!"
"What are you talking about?" I say and ignore her as I continue to write. It's really annoying when Consuela takes everything I put on paper so literally.
"No one is going to hate me," I mutter to her when the guilt sets in and I can feel her sulking beside me.
"Yes dey iz! Yer iz saying all der nasty sings and der people will sink dat yer iz nasty!!" she whines as she crosses her arms and sits back in her seat.
I stop what I'm doing, take a deep breath, and turn toward her.
"Consuela, the people will not hate me. What I write, and who I am, are completely different. One is not directly related to the other. And besides, it's important for my character to get angry at this point in the movie, her whole world is falling apart -- which is a good thing. When your world falls apart you have no choice but to build a new one." I say and turn back to my screen.
I really don't have time for her paranoia right now. I have less than three hours to tie everything up into a nice little bow. And, what I need right now is to get into the head space of a girl who feels robbed. A girl who has worked her whole life towards a career that is being taken away from her because her destiny lies somewhere else. A destiny more appropriate for her -- but for now, she is very angry. She hates her boss. She hates everyone in the corporate world.
It makes sense.
Consuela begins to snore. I dig around in my laptop bag for earplugs, which a moment later I insert to block out the noise. I need full concentration right now. Nothing can distract me from being my character for the moment. Everything I lay down matters -- it sets the foundation for her choices later on in the movie.
I take a sip of my water and re-read the rant I've just written for her as she's fired.
It's funny.
I like it.
I can totally see a saucy actress loving this particular scene. How often do we really get to say what we want to other people?
I chuckle a bit more as I really bugger up my puppet. She fumes. She rants. She gets dragged out by security.
All hope is lost...
Poor little thing. If it wasn't for the fact that I already know how the whole thing is going to end, I would actually feel sorry for her. But I don't. I revel in her pain because as the writer, it gives me fuel to propel her next decision.
I love this character. She's everything I've ever wanted for a Heroine. Sassy, but kind. Smart, but oblivious. Pretty, but unsure.
I make sure to save what I've just written. I couldn't bare the thought of losing the words I've just poured onto the page. They're perfect.
And so, as I look out the window and see the clouds floating by, I sit back in my seat and stretch my arms. Then I do my foot and ankle stretches to avoid deep vein thrombosis. And, as I rotate my ankles counter clockwise, and then clockwise, I think about the best way to wrap up the entire movie.
I still have to write the final scene.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sober perspectives
"Hey," Ralph says with a big smile and pops his head in the door. I readjust myself and make sure the that the top collar of my hospital gown isn't bunching.
"Hey," I sing back to him. I'm having one of those moments where words aren't coming easy to me. It's dusk now, and through the window I can see pink streaks across the sky. It's blissful.
Ralph pulls up a chair to the side of my bed and sits down.
We're having a weird moment. We hardly know each other, and yet we just went through this crazy experience together. I give him a big smile, and he gives me a brighter one back.
I like Ralph. He's a good guy.
"Thanks for the flowers," I tell him. "They're beautiful."
We sit there for a moment in the awkwardness. It's just the two of us. Visiting hours are over, but I guess Ralph has pretty good connections with the hospital staff -- and so, he's here.
Eventually Ralph speaks, "So...I guess you're not going to stay for the rest of the summer?" he asks.
It's weird that we are stuttering through a conversation now. It seemed to flow so much easier before.
I guess a lot has changed.
"No," I tell him. "I was running away from something by coming here, and -- well, it's time for me to return to my real life."
Again, there is a moment of awkward silence. But not because he is sad that I'm leaving. The awkwardness lies in the vapidness of Ralph and his demeanor. I had no idea he was this flat of a personality.
I'm having a sober perspective on the depths of Ralph.
I smile and lean forwards to give him the perfunctory hug. Like or not, Ralph and his vapidness is the hero in this story; and while he no longer has an intoxicating affect on me -- he still is important.
In a Christmas card once a year type of way.
I start to feel guilty about where my train of thought is taking me as I sit here and analyze Ralph. Maybe he's just not as exciting unless he's approaching you from a Police boat, or saving you from a burning building?
Why is that?
As the conversation comes to a complete halt, Ralph repositions his chair and joins me for a moment as we watch the sun set through the window. The story is coming to an end.
It's funny how real life doesn't always play out how you want it to. How it festers in the unpredictable. How people don't always play the role you were hoping they would.
It would've been a nice story wouldn't it? At cocktail parties, we would gaze in each other's eyes as we recount how he saved me from a burning building and that's where and how we fell deeply and madly in love.
But there are no cocktail parties in Ralph's world. Maybe the odd case of beer on the back deck of someone's porch every now and then.
And there is no mad love. Not even a burning ember of affection.
Sigh.
I reach out my hand to grasp his hand and seal our friendship. There are things I want to say to Ralph, but he doesn't seem to need me to. He's perfectly happy with the complacency of his life. And I'm perfectly happy with the erratic frenetic nature of mine.
Which is not here.
And not with Ralph.
And so, as the sun dips further below the trees, I close my eyes and lean back in my bed. A moment later Ralph takes that as a cue to leave. And my mind drifts towards the next few days and what they will bring; a flight back across the continent to LA, frantic last minute writing and touch ups, and the delivery of the script.
I think I'll stay in a hotel when I get there... I can't stress about finding a new apartment just yet.
I'm not sure where my thoughts drifted into slumber, but they eventually did. And for the first time, in a very long time -- I slept. A deep, peaceful sleep that only comes with the resolution of a sober mind.
"Hey," I sing back to him. I'm having one of those moments where words aren't coming easy to me. It's dusk now, and through the window I can see pink streaks across the sky. It's blissful.
Ralph pulls up a chair to the side of my bed and sits down.
We're having a weird moment. We hardly know each other, and yet we just went through this crazy experience together. I give him a big smile, and he gives me a brighter one back.
I like Ralph. He's a good guy.
"Thanks for the flowers," I tell him. "They're beautiful."
We sit there for a moment in the awkwardness. It's just the two of us. Visiting hours are over, but I guess Ralph has pretty good connections with the hospital staff -- and so, he's here.
Eventually Ralph speaks, "So...I guess you're not going to stay for the rest of the summer?" he asks.
It's weird that we are stuttering through a conversation now. It seemed to flow so much easier before.
I guess a lot has changed.
"No," I tell him. "I was running away from something by coming here, and -- well, it's time for me to return to my real life."
Again, there is a moment of awkward silence. But not because he is sad that I'm leaving. The awkwardness lies in the vapidness of Ralph and his demeanor. I had no idea he was this flat of a personality.
I'm having a sober perspective on the depths of Ralph.
I smile and lean forwards to give him the perfunctory hug. Like or not, Ralph and his vapidness is the hero in this story; and while he no longer has an intoxicating affect on me -- he still is important.
In a Christmas card once a year type of way.
I start to feel guilty about where my train of thought is taking me as I sit here and analyze Ralph. Maybe he's just not as exciting unless he's approaching you from a Police boat, or saving you from a burning building?
Why is that?
As the conversation comes to a complete halt, Ralph repositions his chair and joins me for a moment as we watch the sun set through the window. The story is coming to an end.
It's funny how real life doesn't always play out how you want it to. How it festers in the unpredictable. How people don't always play the role you were hoping they would.
It would've been a nice story wouldn't it? At cocktail parties, we would gaze in each other's eyes as we recount how he saved me from a burning building and that's where and how we fell deeply and madly in love.
But there are no cocktail parties in Ralph's world. Maybe the odd case of beer on the back deck of someone's porch every now and then.
And there is no mad love. Not even a burning ember of affection.
Sigh.
I reach out my hand to grasp his hand and seal our friendship. There are things I want to say to Ralph, but he doesn't seem to need me to. He's perfectly happy with the complacency of his life. And I'm perfectly happy with the erratic frenetic nature of mine.
Which is not here.
And not with Ralph.
And so, as the sun dips further below the trees, I close my eyes and lean back in my bed. A moment later Ralph takes that as a cue to leave. And my mind drifts towards the next few days and what they will bring; a flight back across the continent to LA, frantic last minute writing and touch ups, and the delivery of the script.
I think I'll stay in a hotel when I get there... I can't stress about finding a new apartment just yet.
I'm not sure where my thoughts drifted into slumber, but they eventually did. And for the first time, in a very long time -- I slept. A deep, peaceful sleep that only comes with the resolution of a sober mind.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Happy Endings
"Knock Knahhhh-ock," Linda sings from the doorway as a nurse passes by her with a bouquet of flowers.
Aunt Nancy stands to read the card; "Glad you're healing -- will come by after my shift. Ralph."
I take a moment to look at the flowers, they're beautiful. Purple, pink, and white Lillies fill the air with a sweet perfume. The room becomes more peaceful.
As Aunt Nancy places the flowers on the table beside my bed, I turn my attention towards Linda who is hovering in the archway.
"Is it ok if we come in for a sec?" she asks. I still have no idea who is in the hall. I drink from my water glass and nod that it's alright for whomever to come in. Linda steps inside to allow Mikey to enter. A moment later his frazzled mother enters behind him and plunks in a chair near the window. I don't like her energy. It's charged. Stressful. Toxic.
"Come here," I say to Mikey and motion for him to feel free to take a seat on the edge of the bed, which he does. His mother begins to speak for him, "He wanted to come by and say thank you -- and that he has something for you." she says in a huff.
I don't like this woman.
"How are you?" I ask Mikey who seems a little shy under the circumstances. He shrugs, and then begins to speak.
"Thank you," he says quietly. I'm not exactly sure what he's thanking me for -- but I receive it because I know it was important for him to say that to me.
He crouches a little bit closer and lays his head on my lap for a moment. My heart completely melts. I look over to his mother to exchange a look of 'how adorable' but she becomes agitated and snaps at him.
"Mikey, leave the poor lady alone. She's tired and needs her sleep. Come on!" she says and stands at the foot of the bed, extending her hand for him to take it.
"It was nice meeting you," I say to Mikey as he hops off the bed and walks obediently towards his mother. I try not to let her harshness bother me.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" says his mother as Mikey turns to dig into her bag and pull out something.
This room could use a little kid art...
"Oh my God!" I squeal and sit straight up. The pain sears through my right shoulder, but I ignore it. My heart practically leaps out of my chest.
"Where did you get that?!?!" I say, as Mikey walks towards me with my laptop. I reach out to grab it from him, and then with my free arm I try and give him the best hug that I can.
"I can't believe he grabbed it!" I say to everyone in the room. I'm so relieved. I will be able to finish my movie after all!
"Thank you so much, Mikey!" I say and give him a great big smile. I'm moved to tears.
"The lady told me to take it," he says.
I look to Linda who shrugs. She has no idea what he's talking about.
"The lady?" I ask him a little confused. The only person that he would have seen was Linda.
"The nice Spanish lady. She told me to take it for you." he says matter-of-fact.
Mikey's mother chastises him for telling stories, and then yanks him by the arm and begins to walk out the door.
"Kids," she says in a huff.
I ask her if she's alright, and she just glares at me. She's one of those people that never sees the blessings around her. I can tell that she is festering in anger; and it saddens me.
"I'm just glad that Mikey is ok," I say to her to see if she can rewire whatever negative thoughts are streaming through her angry veins. But she can't. Instead she comes back with a sharp comment about his 'son-of-a-bitch father'.
Her anger and resentment create a tiny abscess on her soul. As she storms out of the room harshly yanking her son's arm, a Caballos Demonios rises from the chair it was sitting in and follows behind her -- waiting for an opportunity to enter, should the abscess grow large enough. Consuela promptly shuffles over to the chair and furiously douses every inch of it with Lysol.
I laugh.
I look back down at my laptop -- the home of all my intentions and lean back in my bed breathing a great sigh of relief.
All is not lost.
My train of thought has been saved.
And, as Linda kisses me on the forehead and tells me she'll be by later with Benny; Aunt Nancy pours me another glass of water to help quench my new found insatiable thirst.
I can now finish my movie.
Everything is going to be fine.
Aunt Nancy stands to read the card; "Glad you're healing -- will come by after my shift. Ralph."
I take a moment to look at the flowers, they're beautiful. Purple, pink, and white Lillies fill the air with a sweet perfume. The room becomes more peaceful.
As Aunt Nancy places the flowers on the table beside my bed, I turn my attention towards Linda who is hovering in the archway.
"Is it ok if we come in for a sec?" she asks. I still have no idea who is in the hall. I drink from my water glass and nod that it's alright for whomever to come in. Linda steps inside to allow Mikey to enter. A moment later his frazzled mother enters behind him and plunks in a chair near the window. I don't like her energy. It's charged. Stressful. Toxic.
"Come here," I say to Mikey and motion for him to feel free to take a seat on the edge of the bed, which he does. His mother begins to speak for him, "He wanted to come by and say thank you -- and that he has something for you." she says in a huff.
I don't like this woman.
"How are you?" I ask Mikey who seems a little shy under the circumstances. He shrugs, and then begins to speak.
"Thank you," he says quietly. I'm not exactly sure what he's thanking me for -- but I receive it because I know it was important for him to say that to me.
He crouches a little bit closer and lays his head on my lap for a moment. My heart completely melts. I look over to his mother to exchange a look of 'how adorable' but she becomes agitated and snaps at him.
"Mikey, leave the poor lady alone. She's tired and needs her sleep. Come on!" she says and stands at the foot of the bed, extending her hand for him to take it.
"It was nice meeting you," I say to Mikey as he hops off the bed and walks obediently towards his mother. I try not to let her harshness bother me.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" says his mother as Mikey turns to dig into her bag and pull out something.
This room could use a little kid art...
"Oh my God!" I squeal and sit straight up. The pain sears through my right shoulder, but I ignore it. My heart practically leaps out of my chest.
"Where did you get that?!?!" I say, as Mikey walks towards me with my laptop. I reach out to grab it from him, and then with my free arm I try and give him the best hug that I can.
"I can't believe he grabbed it!" I say to everyone in the room. I'm so relieved. I will be able to finish my movie after all!
"Thank you so much, Mikey!" I say and give him a great big smile. I'm moved to tears.
"The lady told me to take it," he says.
I look to Linda who shrugs. She has no idea what he's talking about.
"The lady?" I ask him a little confused. The only person that he would have seen was Linda.
"The nice Spanish lady. She told me to take it for you." he says matter-of-fact.
Mikey's mother chastises him for telling stories, and then yanks him by the arm and begins to walk out the door.
"Kids," she says in a huff.
I ask her if she's alright, and she just glares at me. She's one of those people that never sees the blessings around her. I can tell that she is festering in anger; and it saddens me.
"I'm just glad that Mikey is ok," I say to her to see if she can rewire whatever negative thoughts are streaming through her angry veins. But she can't. Instead she comes back with a sharp comment about his 'son-of-a-bitch father'.
Her anger and resentment create a tiny abscess on her soul. As she storms out of the room harshly yanking her son's arm, a Caballos Demonios rises from the chair it was sitting in and follows behind her -- waiting for an opportunity to enter, should the abscess grow large enough. Consuela promptly shuffles over to the chair and furiously douses every inch of it with Lysol.
I laugh.
I look back down at my laptop -- the home of all my intentions and lean back in my bed breathing a great sigh of relief.
All is not lost.
My train of thought has been saved.
And, as Linda kisses me on the forehead and tells me she'll be by later with Benny; Aunt Nancy pours me another glass of water to help quench my new found insatiable thirst.
I can now finish my movie.
Everything is going to be fine.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Dying Wildabeast
Beep.
Beep.
I crack open one of my eyes to see that I'm in a hospital. It's now daylight -- my shoulder is killing me. Aunt Nancy stands and walks over to me as I try to open my other eye.
"They've got you doped up on painkillers, lucky thing," she says and then begins to pour me a glass of water.
"Here, drink -- you must be thirsty." She says.
Aunt Nancy fidgets with the remote for the bed; she's trying to figure out how to use it. "Shit," she says and begins to laugh as she pulls the remote away from her so she can read the fine print, "I forgot my glasses...oh wait...no...oh, yep. One second..."
A moment later my bed begins to rise and I'm in an upright position.
I drink my water. I am thirsty. Really thirsty.
"You were lucky," Aunt Nancy tells me as she opens the curtains and lets the daylight pour in, "that amulet of yours is what saved your life. It blocked the bullet and sent it to the right of your heart. Crazy son-of-a--"
"How's the cottage?" I ask and cut her off. I'm more concerned about whether or not the cottage is alright.
"Ah," she says and sits down across from me, "poor Hanky Poo Poo. When we pulled up the fire had gotten in the walls and all you could hear was garbled Neil Diamond melting as the walls burned up. Poor thing. He's devastated. He loved those built in speakers. But I told him that we can always build another cottage; we can't build another niece!" she says and gives me a big smile.
I feel awful. "Is there anything left?" I ask her.
"Oh yeah -- just mostly damage to the first floor. To be honest, after what happened there, I kinda wish the whole thing did just burn down to the ground. I don't want to go back there, knowing there was some crazy man in there that killed himself and tried to kill you. It's nuts!" she says and laughs nervously.
"I'm sorry," I tell her.
"What do you have to be sorry about? It's not your fault Nutso went bazerk. I'm just glad that you're ok -- and that little boy is ok. You should have seen the look on his mother's face when she got him back. Poor thing, must have been a nightmare for her knowing her crazy Ex had taken him. And can you believe he shot himself? I can't believe there are people that crazy in this world. It's nuts. The world is flippin' nuts!" she says and walks over to fill up my water glass for me.
I can't stop drinking.
"Now, I told Hank that I specifically told you not to burn the place down -- but I guess you didn't want to listen!" she says and tries to make me laugh. It's true. The note did say 'don't burn the place down.'
"I'm so sorry!" I tell her again, but she shoos away my apology with her hand.
A moment later there is a knock on the door, and Linda pops her head in. She walks over and gives me a gentle hug before starting to speak. She takes a moment to catch herself. I can see that she's holding back tears.
"I'm so glad you're alright. I didn't feel right letting you walk over there by yourself, so I followed and as soon as I got inside, I saw the little boy -- and then there was a gunshot; and Ralph was there and he said he'd take care of it, and for me to take the boy...and oh! You poor thing!" she says and grabs my hand.
"I'm fine," I tell her. "The amulet turned out to be lucky after all."
Aunt Nancy fills her in on how the amulet re-directed the bullet, and Linda's eyes widen with amazement.
"Unbelievable," she says and just shakes her head in disbelief.
I try to shrug; but I can't. My right upper side is in a lot of pain.
"Owww..." I whine. My shoulder is really hurting.
"They got the bullet out fairly easily," Aunt Nancy tells us. The doctors say you'll be fine -- just sore for a while. Where the hell are they anyhow? Don't they know that you're awake? You're hooked up to enough flippin' wires -- you think they'd have a whole team in here by now. Don't you stress, I'll go find them," she says and stomps out of the room with purpose.
Linda smiles. Aunt Nancy does offer a lot of comic relief.
"Your Aunt didn't want you inundated with lots of people, but there is someone here who wants to say something to you -- if that's alright."
I nod. I have no idea who it is.
Just then Aunt Nancy marches back in with two nurses and a doctor, "Now see -- she's been awake for a whole five minutes," she says as the nurses begin to check me and the doctor approaches the bedside.
"I'll wait outside until your done," says Linda who gives me a waive and walks out.
The doctor checks my heart, and my eyes. I tell him I'm really thirsty and he explains that it's a reaction to the anesthesia; and to just continue to drink water and it will eventually go away. Aunt Nancy asks him about a hundred questions, and I gulp down my water like a good little heroine. The nurses check my blood pressure and make notes on my file, and I try my best to appreciate the moment. To stay real.
I'm alive. And that is all that matters. But part of me died in that fire -- the part of myself I was pouring into the movie. That is now gone forever. Even if I do try and rewrite it, it will never be the same. I could never get back to that same headspace I was in when I originally was writing it.
It's gone...
Tears start to form in my eyes, and Aunt Nancy nods as if to tell me that it's ok for me to cry. It's a lot to try and keep in.
As the doctor and nurses exit the room, I am overcome by a flood of sadness.
And as Aunt Nancy pats my head and tries to comfort me, I wail. I wail for my movie and all the intentions I had poured into it. I don't care about my shoulder or the fact that I almost died. None of that matters.
Right now I'm completely devastated because my words are gone and I don't know if I'll ever be able to get them back.
I let Aunt Nancy think I'm crying about other things, because it really is all the same. Grief. Sadness. Despair. It doesn't matter where it comes from. Pain is pain. Maybe some of it is a release of everything that has happened in the last few months... maybe not.
As I turn into a puddle of snot and tears, I lean into Aunt Nancy's chest and wail louder than I ever have before.
I wail, and wail, and wail.
Then I heave, and wail some more.
Deep animalistic sounds escape from the depths of my gut, and just when I think I will never be able to stop, Aunt Nancy speaks:
"Jesus kid! You sound like a dying wildabeast," she says from a place of shock.
I raise my head and look at her through my blurry eyes. The snot extends from nose and forces Aunt Nancy to hand me a box of Kleenex -- which I snap up and use to clean myself.
As balls of Kleenex start to form a fortress around me, my thoughts drift away from the loss of my movie and back into the present -- and so, between the heaving, I look Aunt Nancy square in the eyes and say the only logical thing I can think of in this moment;
"How the hell would you know what a friggen wildabeast sounds like?"
And a moment later we're laughing. We laugh until I can't breath -- and new tears start to fall from my eyes; but these ones are welcome. They propell me forward, a one-way trajectory away from my grief.
And I realize as I wipe away these new tears, that I am starting to feel much better.
Beep.
I crack open one of my eyes to see that I'm in a hospital. It's now daylight -- my shoulder is killing me. Aunt Nancy stands and walks over to me as I try to open my other eye.
"They've got you doped up on painkillers, lucky thing," she says and then begins to pour me a glass of water.
"Here, drink -- you must be thirsty." She says.
Aunt Nancy fidgets with the remote for the bed; she's trying to figure out how to use it. "Shit," she says and begins to laugh as she pulls the remote away from her so she can read the fine print, "I forgot my glasses...oh wait...no...oh, yep. One second..."
A moment later my bed begins to rise and I'm in an upright position.
I drink my water. I am thirsty. Really thirsty.
"You were lucky," Aunt Nancy tells me as she opens the curtains and lets the daylight pour in, "that amulet of yours is what saved your life. It blocked the bullet and sent it to the right of your heart. Crazy son-of-a--"
"How's the cottage?" I ask and cut her off. I'm more concerned about whether or not the cottage is alright.
"Ah," she says and sits down across from me, "poor Hanky Poo Poo. When we pulled up the fire had gotten in the walls and all you could hear was garbled Neil Diamond melting as the walls burned up. Poor thing. He's devastated. He loved those built in speakers. But I told him that we can always build another cottage; we can't build another niece!" she says and gives me a big smile.
I feel awful. "Is there anything left?" I ask her.
"Oh yeah -- just mostly damage to the first floor. To be honest, after what happened there, I kinda wish the whole thing did just burn down to the ground. I don't want to go back there, knowing there was some crazy man in there that killed himself and tried to kill you. It's nuts!" she says and laughs nervously.
"I'm sorry," I tell her.
"What do you have to be sorry about? It's not your fault Nutso went bazerk. I'm just glad that you're ok -- and that little boy is ok. You should have seen the look on his mother's face when she got him back. Poor thing, must have been a nightmare for her knowing her crazy Ex had taken him. And can you believe he shot himself? I can't believe there are people that crazy in this world. It's nuts. The world is flippin' nuts!" she says and walks over to fill up my water glass for me.
I can't stop drinking.
"Now, I told Hank that I specifically told you not to burn the place down -- but I guess you didn't want to listen!" she says and tries to make me laugh. It's true. The note did say 'don't burn the place down.'
"I'm so sorry!" I tell her again, but she shoos away my apology with her hand.
A moment later there is a knock on the door, and Linda pops her head in. She walks over and gives me a gentle hug before starting to speak. She takes a moment to catch herself. I can see that she's holding back tears.
"I'm so glad you're alright. I didn't feel right letting you walk over there by yourself, so I followed and as soon as I got inside, I saw the little boy -- and then there was a gunshot; and Ralph was there and he said he'd take care of it, and for me to take the boy...and oh! You poor thing!" she says and grabs my hand.
"I'm fine," I tell her. "The amulet turned out to be lucky after all."
Aunt Nancy fills her in on how the amulet re-directed the bullet, and Linda's eyes widen with amazement.
"Unbelievable," she says and just shakes her head in disbelief.
I try to shrug; but I can't. My right upper side is in a lot of pain.
"Owww..." I whine. My shoulder is really hurting.
"They got the bullet out fairly easily," Aunt Nancy tells us. The doctors say you'll be fine -- just sore for a while. Where the hell are they anyhow? Don't they know that you're awake? You're hooked up to enough flippin' wires -- you think they'd have a whole team in here by now. Don't you stress, I'll go find them," she says and stomps out of the room with purpose.
Linda smiles. Aunt Nancy does offer a lot of comic relief.
"Your Aunt didn't want you inundated with lots of people, but there is someone here who wants to say something to you -- if that's alright."
I nod. I have no idea who it is.
Just then Aunt Nancy marches back in with two nurses and a doctor, "Now see -- she's been awake for a whole five minutes," she says as the nurses begin to check me and the doctor approaches the bedside.
"I'll wait outside until your done," says Linda who gives me a waive and walks out.
The doctor checks my heart, and my eyes. I tell him I'm really thirsty and he explains that it's a reaction to the anesthesia; and to just continue to drink water and it will eventually go away. Aunt Nancy asks him about a hundred questions, and I gulp down my water like a good little heroine. The nurses check my blood pressure and make notes on my file, and I try my best to appreciate the moment. To stay real.
I'm alive. And that is all that matters. But part of me died in that fire -- the part of myself I was pouring into the movie. That is now gone forever. Even if I do try and rewrite it, it will never be the same. I could never get back to that same headspace I was in when I originally was writing it.
It's gone...
Tears start to form in my eyes, and Aunt Nancy nods as if to tell me that it's ok for me to cry. It's a lot to try and keep in.
As the doctor and nurses exit the room, I am overcome by a flood of sadness.
And as Aunt Nancy pats my head and tries to comfort me, I wail. I wail for my movie and all the intentions I had poured into it. I don't care about my shoulder or the fact that I almost died. None of that matters.
Right now I'm completely devastated because my words are gone and I don't know if I'll ever be able to get them back.
I let Aunt Nancy think I'm crying about other things, because it really is all the same. Grief. Sadness. Despair. It doesn't matter where it comes from. Pain is pain. Maybe some of it is a release of everything that has happened in the last few months... maybe not.
As I turn into a puddle of snot and tears, I lean into Aunt Nancy's chest and wail louder than I ever have before.
I wail, and wail, and wail.
Then I heave, and wail some more.
Deep animalistic sounds escape from the depths of my gut, and just when I think I will never be able to stop, Aunt Nancy speaks:
"Jesus kid! You sound like a dying wildabeast," she says from a place of shock.
I raise my head and look at her through my blurry eyes. The snot extends from nose and forces Aunt Nancy to hand me a box of Kleenex -- which I snap up and use to clean myself.
As balls of Kleenex start to form a fortress around me, my thoughts drift away from the loss of my movie and back into the present -- and so, between the heaving, I look Aunt Nancy square in the eyes and say the only logical thing I can think of in this moment;
"How the hell would you know what a friggen wildabeast sounds like?"
And a moment later we're laughing. We laugh until I can't breath -- and new tears start to fall from my eyes; but these ones are welcome. They propell me forward, a one-way trajectory away from my grief.
And I realize as I wipe away these new tears, that I am starting to feel much better.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Topsy Turvy
I open my eyes to find Ralph frantically tying some sort of cloth around my right shoulder.
I'm groggy.
And in a lot of pain.
The clouds have lifted and moonlight fills the bathroom. I can see Ralph's face very clearly. He's stressed.
I try to turn my head to see what he's doing, when he tells me to stop. "You've lost a lot of blood. Try not to move until I finish fastening this," he says and uses whatever medical training he has to stop the bleeding.
I look over his shoulder at the man who shot me. His lifeless body sits slumped up against the wall in the corner, where I first saw him. Now that there is light in the room, I take a second to make out his features. Old. Withered. Wrinkled. The years have been hard on him. His streaked white hair tells me that he lived a very troubled life.
I take a moment to look into his vacant ice blue eyes. The man is no longer there, just the body that housed him. It's weird when there's no soul left in a body.
I feel Ralph begin to lift me as we make our way out of the bathroom. He's scooped me into his arms; and as I weave in and out of dizziness -- I turn to him and say the only words that come to mind; "Thank you."
As we make our way down the hall towards the stairs, I smell something.
"Ah, shit!" says Ralph as we approach the top of the stairs to see that a fire has started on the bottom floor. I turn my head to look for the candle that I placed in the hallway, but can't see it.
It must have rolled through the railing and landed in the living room...
I start to cough. Ralph places me at the top of the steps and hops down the stairs to check out the situation. He runs back towards the bathroom and returns a moment later with two sopping wet bath towels, which he wraps around both of us.
We make our way down the stairs swiftly. I can hear sirens in the distance.
I have a hard time seeing the extent of the fire, but the smoke is thick. Ralph tells me to breathe through the wet towel. I can feel the heat increase as we come closer to the bottom of the steps.
A moment later we are out the front door, and Ralph lays me on the ground as other Officers approach us.
My heart sinks --
"My laptop!" I say to him and use whatever energy I have left to plead for him to run and get it.
"Don't worry about it," he tells me and tries to keep me from moving so I won't ruin his makeshift tourniquet.
"No!" I say and sit straight up, "You don't understand. I need my laptop!" I tell him and start to cry out of frustration. It's like I'm living one of those nightmares where everything goes wrong and no one will listen. "It's near the bottom of the stairs, before the kitchen," I plead with him. I start to cough quite heavily. I suppose I took in more smoke than I thought I had.
Ralph doesn't argue with me, but takes my wet bath towel from around me and wraps it around himself before turning to run back into the house.
"You owe me," he says as he sprints into the house.
A female officer is now inspecting my wound and calling for medical back up. The sirens are getting closer.
I feel weak again. And nauseous.
And lightheaded...
I fix my eyes on the door to the cottage waiting for Ralph to come back out. The seconds feel like hours. Everything I have been working towards is in that laptop.
A moment later he comes out the door, coughing heavily and empty handed.
"I couldn't see it," he tells me as he whips the blackened towels off of himself.
The sirens are getting closer. The last thing I remember, is hoping that the sirens I hear belong to a firetruck.
As Ralph walks towards me coughing, the world around him becomes topsy turvy.
My eyes roll to the back of my head.
And I pass out.
I'm groggy.
And in a lot of pain.
The clouds have lifted and moonlight fills the bathroom. I can see Ralph's face very clearly. He's stressed.
I try to turn my head to see what he's doing, when he tells me to stop. "You've lost a lot of blood. Try not to move until I finish fastening this," he says and uses whatever medical training he has to stop the bleeding.
I look over his shoulder at the man who shot me. His lifeless body sits slumped up against the wall in the corner, where I first saw him. Now that there is light in the room, I take a second to make out his features. Old. Withered. Wrinkled. The years have been hard on him. His streaked white hair tells me that he lived a very troubled life.
I take a moment to look into his vacant ice blue eyes. The man is no longer there, just the body that housed him. It's weird when there's no soul left in a body.
I feel Ralph begin to lift me as we make our way out of the bathroom. He's scooped me into his arms; and as I weave in and out of dizziness -- I turn to him and say the only words that come to mind; "Thank you."
As we make our way down the hall towards the stairs, I smell something.
"Ah, shit!" says Ralph as we approach the top of the stairs to see that a fire has started on the bottom floor. I turn my head to look for the candle that I placed in the hallway, but can't see it.
It must have rolled through the railing and landed in the living room...
I start to cough. Ralph places me at the top of the steps and hops down the stairs to check out the situation. He runs back towards the bathroom and returns a moment later with two sopping wet bath towels, which he wraps around both of us.
We make our way down the stairs swiftly. I can hear sirens in the distance.
I have a hard time seeing the extent of the fire, but the smoke is thick. Ralph tells me to breathe through the wet towel. I can feel the heat increase as we come closer to the bottom of the steps.
A moment later we are out the front door, and Ralph lays me on the ground as other Officers approach us.
My heart sinks --
"My laptop!" I say to him and use whatever energy I have left to plead for him to run and get it.
"Don't worry about it," he tells me and tries to keep me from moving so I won't ruin his makeshift tourniquet.
"No!" I say and sit straight up, "You don't understand. I need my laptop!" I tell him and start to cry out of frustration. It's like I'm living one of those nightmares where everything goes wrong and no one will listen. "It's near the bottom of the stairs, before the kitchen," I plead with him. I start to cough quite heavily. I suppose I took in more smoke than I thought I had.
Ralph doesn't argue with me, but takes my wet bath towel from around me and wraps it around himself before turning to run back into the house.
"You owe me," he says as he sprints into the house.
A female officer is now inspecting my wound and calling for medical back up. The sirens are getting closer.
I feel weak again. And nauseous.
And lightheaded...
I fix my eyes on the door to the cottage waiting for Ralph to come back out. The seconds feel like hours. Everything I have been working towards is in that laptop.
A moment later he comes out the door, coughing heavily and empty handed.
"I couldn't see it," he tells me as he whips the blackened towels off of himself.
The sirens are getting closer. The last thing I remember, is hoping that the sirens I hear belong to a firetruck.
As Ralph walks towards me coughing, the world around him becomes topsy turvy.
My eyes roll to the back of my head.
And I pass out.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
You will help them all
"Grab her!" I hear a luminous voice say, as an arm hooks around my chest and I'm lifted into the air.
The Beast roars and lunges at my feet, but a winged man intervenes, and a second later so does another. Their arms flex and their muscles strain as they use all the weight of their 9 foot frames to hold the Beast at bay.
I'm whisked away from my body and into the hallway; where I see Ralph approaching. In his haste to run towards the bathroom, he knocks over the candle.
As we float higher into the air, I now can see Linda carrying the small boy out the front door of the cottage. Consuela hustles to keep in step with her as they run towards other uniformed officers approaching the premises.
We increase our speed and burst through the dark clouds into the twilight of the atmosphere; and make our way at lightening speed towards higher elevations. The dark clouds shrink to barely cover a piece of land, which shrinks to become a distant continent as we float higher and faster away from Earth.
All I can see as I'm being transported, are expansive wings on both sides of me that span 12 feet in each direction. The arms that hold me are soft and firm.
I am safe.
We pass the moon, then the planets, then the galaxy and head towards an alternative plane that is not comprehensible to the mind we are given on Earth. In this celestial alter-universe we fly towards pink and indigo galaxies; towards a luminescent patch of galactic clouds, and eventually land on a plane that seems and feels familiar.
I take a moment to recalibrate before I stand.
When I have composed myself, I turn to face my rescuer.
"Deandra?" I say with shock as I view an entity that stands many feet taller than me and glows a different intensity of light than I am giving off. Her large hands reach out to pat my hair.
I run into her hips to give her a hug of appreciation, and then take a step back and look way up. The face that smiles down at me is similar to Deandra's, but I'm not so sure.
The creature sits on the ground, and so I nestle beside it/her and wait for a response.
I stare at her face for a moment. It's hard to believe that this is my Deandra.
"Is it you?" I ask, unsure of what is happening.
"Yes," she says and smiles, all the while patting my hair.
I look around. I have no idea where we are.
"It was you patting my head when I was upset..." I say out loud.
Deandra smiles and nods, "I wanted to make sure you were ok," she tells me.
I start to think about what a relief it is knowing that Deandra is still alive...but then it dawns on me...
I am not.
"Come," says Deandra as she stands and begins to walk away, "I have something I want to show you."
I stand and follow behind her, and a moment later the scenery around us changes. We are now standing on a cloud looking down on a battle that is taking place on a supernatural level just beyond Earth's surface.
Angels wrestle with Beasts as humans walk obliviously along a street. Sometimes the Beasts lunge into the human bodies, and it is then that we see strife, and anger, and conflict.
A moment later we are whisked to a war front, where Beasts march along occupying human bodies as they fight and kill each other.
A moment after that we are in the halls of a mental institution as Angels attempt to whisper in the ears of humans whose minds have been taken captive by the Beasts.
"You will help them all," says Deandra as we continue to fade in and out of scenes.
"I will?" I ask. I don't understand how I can help them if I'm dead.
"You're almost done your movie, and they will see the truth of who they really are," says Deandra as we walk in and out of scenes on Earth where Angels try desperately to ward off the Beasts.
From behind me I hear --
"We're all so proud of you darlin'!"
I whisk around to see Charlie standing there with a big smile across his face. I run over and nestle my head into his shoulder, and give him a long, strong, remorseful hug.
A moment later, Deandra and I are standing at the Pearly Gates. A sea of people enter. Their eyes are wide with complete amazement.
"You're helping them return to their home," she says to me as we're transported to a grassy field filled with poppies and bunny rabbits. Indigo and Pink lights flow through everything.
It takes me a few minutes to build up the courage to say what I have to say next. I stall for a moment as a bunny rabbit hops towards me and sniffs my toes. Finally, I speak.
"I didn't finish writing my movie," I tell Deandra.
She laughs.
"You will," she says and stands. "It's time for you to return," she tells me as she gives me one more loving look and pats my hair.
"So I'm not dead?" I say slightly confused.
"No, you are not dead." She tells me with a big smile.
A moment later I am reeled away from her smiling presence, back through the Pink and Indigo celestial galaxy, back through the Universe, past the moon, down through the atmosphere, into the storm clouds, towards the cottage...
And then blackness.
The Beast roars and lunges at my feet, but a winged man intervenes, and a second later so does another. Their arms flex and their muscles strain as they use all the weight of their 9 foot frames to hold the Beast at bay.
I'm whisked away from my body and into the hallway; where I see Ralph approaching. In his haste to run towards the bathroom, he knocks over the candle.
As we float higher into the air, I now can see Linda carrying the small boy out the front door of the cottage. Consuela hustles to keep in step with her as they run towards other uniformed officers approaching the premises.
We increase our speed and burst through the dark clouds into the twilight of the atmosphere; and make our way at lightening speed towards higher elevations. The dark clouds shrink to barely cover a piece of land, which shrinks to become a distant continent as we float higher and faster away from Earth.
All I can see as I'm being transported, are expansive wings on both sides of me that span 12 feet in each direction. The arms that hold me are soft and firm.
I am safe.
We pass the moon, then the planets, then the galaxy and head towards an alternative plane that is not comprehensible to the mind we are given on Earth. In this celestial alter-universe we fly towards pink and indigo galaxies; towards a luminescent patch of galactic clouds, and eventually land on a plane that seems and feels familiar.
I take a moment to recalibrate before I stand.
When I have composed myself, I turn to face my rescuer.
"Deandra?" I say with shock as I view an entity that stands many feet taller than me and glows a different intensity of light than I am giving off. Her large hands reach out to pat my hair.
I run into her hips to give her a hug of appreciation, and then take a step back and look way up. The face that smiles down at me is similar to Deandra's, but I'm not so sure.
The creature sits on the ground, and so I nestle beside it/her and wait for a response.
I stare at her face for a moment. It's hard to believe that this is my Deandra.
"Is it you?" I ask, unsure of what is happening.
"Yes," she says and smiles, all the while patting my hair.
I look around. I have no idea where we are.
"It was you patting my head when I was upset..." I say out loud.
Deandra smiles and nods, "I wanted to make sure you were ok," she tells me.
I start to think about what a relief it is knowing that Deandra is still alive...but then it dawns on me...
I am not.
"Come," says Deandra as she stands and begins to walk away, "I have something I want to show you."
I stand and follow behind her, and a moment later the scenery around us changes. We are now standing on a cloud looking down on a battle that is taking place on a supernatural level just beyond Earth's surface.
Angels wrestle with Beasts as humans walk obliviously along a street. Sometimes the Beasts lunge into the human bodies, and it is then that we see strife, and anger, and conflict.
A moment later we are whisked to a war front, where Beasts march along occupying human bodies as they fight and kill each other.
A moment after that we are in the halls of a mental institution as Angels attempt to whisper in the ears of humans whose minds have been taken captive by the Beasts.
"You will help them all," says Deandra as we continue to fade in and out of scenes.
"I will?" I ask. I don't understand how I can help them if I'm dead.
"You're almost done your movie, and they will see the truth of who they really are," says Deandra as we walk in and out of scenes on Earth where Angels try desperately to ward off the Beasts.
From behind me I hear --
"We're all so proud of you darlin'!"
I whisk around to see Charlie standing there with a big smile across his face. I run over and nestle my head into his shoulder, and give him a long, strong, remorseful hug.
A moment later, Deandra and I are standing at the Pearly Gates. A sea of people enter. Their eyes are wide with complete amazement.
"You're helping them return to their home," she says to me as we're transported to a grassy field filled with poppies and bunny rabbits. Indigo and Pink lights flow through everything.
It takes me a few minutes to build up the courage to say what I have to say next. I stall for a moment as a bunny rabbit hops towards me and sniffs my toes. Finally, I speak.
"I didn't finish writing my movie," I tell Deandra.
She laughs.
"You will," she says and stands. "It's time for you to return," she tells me as she gives me one more loving look and pats my hair.
"So I'm not dead?" I say slightly confused.
"No, you are not dead." She tells me with a big smile.
A moment later I am reeled away from her smiling presence, back through the Pink and Indigo celestial galaxy, back through the Universe, past the moon, down through the atmosphere, into the storm clouds, towards the cottage...
And then blackness.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Click.
I take a very deep breath, and despite all my instincts that tell me to turn around and flee -- I walk into my fear and away from the beast.
"Sir?" I say as I take another cautious step forward in the dark.
His groans are garbled.
Probably the blood?
I have no idea why I'm compelled to walk into this obvious death trap, but I take another step forward and then another. As I approach, the rancid smell becomes more obvious.
From what I can make out in the dark, he has shot himself. He is barely alive.
As I crouch down and look at him, I can see pain and regret wash over his face. But then, a moment later all that is replaced by the presence of an evil that always lurks. An evil waiting to take over the best of who we are. An evil that prays on our insecurities and anxieties, forcing us to control through fear. To expect the worst, and be the worst.
An inevitable byproduct of our human condition.
"Sir?" I say as I lean forward, working through my own fear and keeping my own beast at bay for now. I don't want to give in to thoughts of 'worst case scenarios' just yet.
I look into his eyes. His sockets are swollen and fractured from the impact of the gun shot. His breathing is rapid and shallow. I can see a certain vulnerability in this man that allowed for fear and anxiety to fester into rampant madness and rage.
He is lost and afraid.
The depths of his pupils burn an angry black-red colour that offers the only embers in this dark room on this stormy night. I take a second to make eye contact, hoping that on some level he will reconnect with compassion and kindness. That not all hope is lost, and that not everyone is a bad person out to do harm.
Click.
I look down to see his wobbly hand pointing his gun straight at me. The claws of the beast hold the gun firmly from beneath the layer of skin and bone.
The beast knows only to control through violence.
I open my mouth to try and talk some sense into this poor soul, but the beast starts to move the man's index finger on the trigger.
I have no choice but to make eye contact with the burning red supernatural eyes, and hope that on some level I can connect with his lost soul that is a greater power buried underneath the weight of the beast.
I want him to know that he can expel the beast. That he doesn't have to be victim to it. That he can surpass this. That hope is not lost...
In my plea I begin to whisper a prayer for this man's lost soul -- asking God and the heavens to intervene and cleanse his mind. I pray for him, and not myself -- for I am not as lost as he, and so I have an obligation to guide him towards a better alternative.
A moment later a white light pours through the window onto this man's face. At first I think it's the moonlight breaking through the clouds, but then I realize that maybe it's a source from a power greater than all of us; attempting to reclaim one of it's own.
The man trembles. The beast roars.
I feel a hand softly pat the top of my head; and a second later --
The gun goes off.
"Sir?" I say as I take another cautious step forward in the dark.
His groans are garbled.
Probably the blood?
I have no idea why I'm compelled to walk into this obvious death trap, but I take another step forward and then another. As I approach, the rancid smell becomes more obvious.
From what I can make out in the dark, he has shot himself. He is barely alive.
As I crouch down and look at him, I can see pain and regret wash over his face. But then, a moment later all that is replaced by the presence of an evil that always lurks. An evil waiting to take over the best of who we are. An evil that prays on our insecurities and anxieties, forcing us to control through fear. To expect the worst, and be the worst.
An inevitable byproduct of our human condition.
"Sir?" I say as I lean forward, working through my own fear and keeping my own beast at bay for now. I don't want to give in to thoughts of 'worst case scenarios' just yet.
I look into his eyes. His sockets are swollen and fractured from the impact of the gun shot. His breathing is rapid and shallow. I can see a certain vulnerability in this man that allowed for fear and anxiety to fester into rampant madness and rage.
He is lost and afraid.
The depths of his pupils burn an angry black-red colour that offers the only embers in this dark room on this stormy night. I take a second to make eye contact, hoping that on some level he will reconnect with compassion and kindness. That not all hope is lost, and that not everyone is a bad person out to do harm.
Click.
I look down to see his wobbly hand pointing his gun straight at me. The claws of the beast hold the gun firmly from beneath the layer of skin and bone.
The beast knows only to control through violence.
I open my mouth to try and talk some sense into this poor soul, but the beast starts to move the man's index finger on the trigger.
I have no choice but to make eye contact with the burning red supernatural eyes, and hope that on some level I can connect with his lost soul that is a greater power buried underneath the weight of the beast.
I want him to know that he can expel the beast. That he doesn't have to be victim to it. That he can surpass this. That hope is not lost...
In my plea I begin to whisper a prayer for this man's lost soul -- asking God and the heavens to intervene and cleanse his mind. I pray for him, and not myself -- for I am not as lost as he, and so I have an obligation to guide him towards a better alternative.
A moment later a white light pours through the window onto this man's face. At first I think it's the moonlight breaking through the clouds, but then I realize that maybe it's a source from a power greater than all of us; attempting to reclaim one of it's own.
The man trembles. The beast roars.
I feel a hand softly pat the top of my head; and a second later --
The gun goes off.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
overtaken by fear
My knees shake uncontrollably as I stand in front of the slightly ajar bathroom door.
The air around me turns to ice.
A thick stream of blood puddles underneath me, and I fear that the person on the other side is no longer with us.
I remember the amulet the Linda gave me, and clasp it with my free hand. I try to calm my breath as I slowly push open the door.
It's pitch black inside the bathroom. The storm still blocks the moonlight from coming through the skylights. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but I can eventually see the outline of a body on the other side of the room.
There is no breathing.
I take another step forward and try not to slip in the blood.
"Sir?" I say quietly as I stand there hoping to hear some sort of response; which I don't.
The air becomes colder.
I take another step closer, and another. And then I hear it --
Hooves.
The floorboards in the hall creek one by one, as the beast approaches.
My heart stops.
Knowing I only have a few seconds until contact, I stand as still as I can and close my eyes; trying to remember everything that Linda has told me.
You will have one chance to escape...
I know the beast prays on emptiness and so I begin to focus all my concentration on everything that matters most to me; sunshine... stars at night, love... fairy tales, ice cream, music...
I frantically try to fill myself with all the things the exemplify my existence; sunsets, oceans, clouds, nature, warm sand on a beach, the smell of sunscreen...
Do not be afraid...
The ice cold air is replaced by a rancid warmth.
The beast is now behind me.
I keep my eyes closed and try my best to connect with the truth of who I think I am, I dive deeper -- underneath all the layers and neurosis that life creates; and search desperately for the lifesource that is me.
But I'm afraid.
And, as my heart beats out of control and my valves begin to flutter; I lose my focus.
I grasp my protection amulet even tighter. The twine begins to dig into the back of my neck.
I hear the floorboard creek behind me as the beast steps towards me.
All I know how to do is close my eyes as tight as I can, and brace for impact.
The air around me turns to ice.
A thick stream of blood puddles underneath me, and I fear that the person on the other side is no longer with us.
I remember the amulet the Linda gave me, and clasp it with my free hand. I try to calm my breath as I slowly push open the door.
It's pitch black inside the bathroom. The storm still blocks the moonlight from coming through the skylights. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but I can eventually see the outline of a body on the other side of the room.
There is no breathing.
I take another step forward and try not to slip in the blood.
"Sir?" I say quietly as I stand there hoping to hear some sort of response; which I don't.
The air becomes colder.
I take another step closer, and another. And then I hear it --
Hooves.
The floorboards in the hall creek one by one, as the beast approaches.
My heart stops.
Knowing I only have a few seconds until contact, I stand as still as I can and close my eyes; trying to remember everything that Linda has told me.
You will have one chance to escape...
I know the beast prays on emptiness and so I begin to focus all my concentration on everything that matters most to me; sunshine... stars at night, love... fairy tales, ice cream, music...
I frantically try to fill myself with all the things the exemplify my existence; sunsets, oceans, clouds, nature, warm sand on a beach, the smell of sunscreen...
Do not be afraid...
The ice cold air is replaced by a rancid warmth.
The beast is now behind me.
I keep my eyes closed and try my best to connect with the truth of who I think I am, I dive deeper -- underneath all the layers and neurosis that life creates; and search desperately for the lifesource that is me.
But I'm afraid.
And, as my heart beats out of control and my valves begin to flutter; I lose my focus.
I grasp my protection amulet even tighter. The twine begins to dig into the back of my neck.
I hear the floorboard creek behind me as the beast steps towards me.
All I know how to do is close my eyes as tight as I can, and brace for impact.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Deja Vu?
"Mikey?" I say as I place his jaw between my hand and try to wake him up. It's useless. I look around to try and make sense of what is happening.
My heart is beating uncontrollably.
Outside I can hear the commotion of the police, but I can't tear myself away from this little boy; no matter what danger we now both face in the cottage.
Deep breath...
Nothing I can do will calm my nerves, I'm going on automatic. I try to inspect him, to find out where the blood is coming from, but my hands are shaking too much. From what I can tell, he isn't wounded.
This isn't his blood...
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Mia, der iz a man upstairs, and he iz in da trouble," whispers Consuela from halfway up the steps.
"How bad is he?" I ask her, trying to work out the variables in between the frantic racing thoughts that zip through my mind.
"He iz no good, yer know," she tells me matter-of-fact.
"Yer go, Mia. I iz watch da little boy. He iz just scared, and datz why he is da passed out," she tells me as she starts to walk down the steps to take a seat beside Mikey.
"I don't know if I want to go up there," I tell Consuela who begins to hum some Peruvian hymn to the boy.
Consuela gives me a look like I'm the world's biggest pussy, and so I start to slowly make my way up the stairs. After all, maybe Mikey was asking me to help his father?
Everything in me tells me to turn around, but for whatever reason, I'm compelled to make my way towards the second floor. It's as if destiny is calling, and I have no other choice.
When I'm halfway up the stairs a loud crackle occurs, and a moment later the lights in the house go out.
"Shit!" I say and fumble my way back down the stairs, past Mikey and Consuela, and towards the kitchen to search for a flashlight.
Of course the cottage was just hit by lightening! Why wouldn't my life get any more fucked up than it already is right now? All I'm missing is for the sky to open up and fucking Armageddon to commence.
Thunder booms loudly.
I fumble around in the drawers, but only manage to find a lighter and a candle.
That will have to do...
A moment later, I'm halfway up the stairs again, walking towards the eerie top floor like Julia Roberts in Mary Reilly.
Sigh.
The wooden steps creek underneath me, and my heart pounds so loud that I'm absolutely convinced that it is pulsing in rhythm with the candle. I take one more look back down the stairs to make sure that Consuela and Mikey are ok, before turning the corner to stand at the end of the hall.
It's pitch dark. The storm clouds block any moonlight that normally would pour through the skylights. I start to make my way down the hall, and am caught off-guard by something sticky on the ground.
I lower the candle to try and inspect what it is, and from what I can tell it's blood. A mass stream of sticky blood that seems to be coming from...
The bathroom?
I take another deep breath and use my free hand to pat the wall beside me for balance. There is something very familiar about this situation, and that really freaks me out.
Deja vu?
I take another step and almost slip, and so -- I place the candle on the floor and begin to take more cautious steps towards the upstairs bathroom. As I move away from the candle light, the hallway becomes darker; and I use both hands along the wall for guidance and balance.
I'm scared about what I might find, but I know that this is on some weird level predestined. I am completely drawn to this bathroom door, and whatever lies behind it. I feel very strongly in a weird and non-sensical way, that I've done this all before.
I am living a deja vu.
And so, as I take one more frightened step towards the bathroom door -- I am met with an eerie silence. I can no longer hear my heart beating. A cold chill passes through me, and swirls around me. I know now, that the coldness I felt when I first entered the cottage was not coming from an open window or door. This type of chill is different from the wind. It pierces through the upper layer of your skin and makes the hairs on your arms stand up straight.
As I watch my breath start to form fog in front of me, and the world turns completely silent, I know beyond any doubt that I am not alone on this second floor hallway.
The dead are also here.
My heart is beating uncontrollably.
Outside I can hear the commotion of the police, but I can't tear myself away from this little boy; no matter what danger we now both face in the cottage.
Deep breath...
Nothing I can do will calm my nerves, I'm going on automatic. I try to inspect him, to find out where the blood is coming from, but my hands are shaking too much. From what I can tell, he isn't wounded.
This isn't his blood...
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Mia, der iz a man upstairs, and he iz in da trouble," whispers Consuela from halfway up the steps.
"How bad is he?" I ask her, trying to work out the variables in between the frantic racing thoughts that zip through my mind.
"He iz no good, yer know," she tells me matter-of-fact.
"Yer go, Mia. I iz watch da little boy. He iz just scared, and datz why he is da passed out," she tells me as she starts to walk down the steps to take a seat beside Mikey.
"I don't know if I want to go up there," I tell Consuela who begins to hum some Peruvian hymn to the boy.
Consuela gives me a look like I'm the world's biggest pussy, and so I start to slowly make my way up the stairs. After all, maybe Mikey was asking me to help his father?
Everything in me tells me to turn around, but for whatever reason, I'm compelled to make my way towards the second floor. It's as if destiny is calling, and I have no other choice.
When I'm halfway up the stairs a loud crackle occurs, and a moment later the lights in the house go out.
"Shit!" I say and fumble my way back down the stairs, past Mikey and Consuela, and towards the kitchen to search for a flashlight.
Of course the cottage was just hit by lightening! Why wouldn't my life get any more fucked up than it already is right now? All I'm missing is for the sky to open up and fucking Armageddon to commence.
Thunder booms loudly.
I fumble around in the drawers, but only manage to find a lighter and a candle.
That will have to do...
A moment later, I'm halfway up the stairs again, walking towards the eerie top floor like Julia Roberts in Mary Reilly.
Sigh.
The wooden steps creek underneath me, and my heart pounds so loud that I'm absolutely convinced that it is pulsing in rhythm with the candle. I take one more look back down the stairs to make sure that Consuela and Mikey are ok, before turning the corner to stand at the end of the hall.
It's pitch dark. The storm clouds block any moonlight that normally would pour through the skylights. I start to make my way down the hall, and am caught off-guard by something sticky on the ground.
I lower the candle to try and inspect what it is, and from what I can tell it's blood. A mass stream of sticky blood that seems to be coming from...
The bathroom?
I take another deep breath and use my free hand to pat the wall beside me for balance. There is something very familiar about this situation, and that really freaks me out.
Deja vu?
I take another step and almost slip, and so -- I place the candle on the floor and begin to take more cautious steps towards the upstairs bathroom. As I move away from the candle light, the hallway becomes darker; and I use both hands along the wall for guidance and balance.
I'm scared about what I might find, but I know that this is on some weird level predestined. I am completely drawn to this bathroom door, and whatever lies behind it. I feel very strongly in a weird and non-sensical way, that I've done this all before.
I am living a deja vu.
And so, as I take one more frightened step towards the bathroom door -- I am met with an eerie silence. I can no longer hear my heart beating. A cold chill passes through me, and swirls around me. I know now, that the coldness I felt when I first entered the cottage was not coming from an open window or door. This type of chill is different from the wind. It pierces through the upper layer of your skin and makes the hairs on your arms stand up straight.
As I watch my breath start to form fog in front of me, and the world turns completely silent, I know beyond any doubt that I am not alone on this second floor hallway.
The dead are also here.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Help Me!
"Hey," says Benny as we walk towards him. He's standing in the foyer of the resort talking to a Detective. He looks stressed.
Patrons walk past with confused looks on their faces. Just beyond Benny, I see a woman slumped in a chair crying. An older man has his arm around her for comfort. She is most likely the mother.
Linda walks over to Benny as I head towards the bar.
"Ah, no you don't! You'll ruin the concoction I've given you." Linda yells.
I swerve around and head back towards her and Benny. I fade in and out of the conversation they're having with the Detective because I can't seem to take my eyes off of the grief stricken mother. I feel really bad for her, and I hope that her little boy turns up ok.
"Apparently he suffers from a lot of mental disorders," explains the Detective to Linda who has asked about the father they most likely believe kidnapped the child.
When the Detective walks away, Benny tells me that Aunt Nancy and Uncle Hank are headed back since this could turn into a bit of a publicity nightmare.
I walk towards the dining room and look inside. It has a different, less jovial vibe. People eat quietly at their tables. There is an absence of bubbly laughter that you would usually hear around this time of night.
Beyond the dining room, through the glass doors I can see headlights from the patrol boats on the water.
"Is it ok if I stay with you guys tonight?" I say to Linda. I don't like the feeling of being alone in the cottage by myself.
"Absolutely," says Linda without hesitation.
"Cool, I'm just going to go back and get a few things," I tell her. She asks me if I want her to come with me, but when I point towards all the police swarming around the property she smiles.
"I think I'll be ok," I say as I make my way through the dining room towards the opposite side of the resort that shares the property line with the cottage.
As I exit through the dining room, the tension can be felt. Various officers are questioning guests who all seem to have not seen anything.
I cross my arms and put my hands under my pits. The winds have picked up and it is once again uncomfortably, and abnormally, cold for this time of year.
I make my way through the brush and trees, along the same path that I've tread these past few weeks going back and forth between both properties.
My mind drifts for a moment as I start to think how interrupted my life has become. It seems it's always chaotic just when I'm getting to the good part of whatever I'm writing.
I really can't wait to be done with all this chaos and finish the movie...
As I come out on the other side of the woods, I notice something peculiar. It takes me a moment to figure it out; for at first it's hard to place. I realize that the upstairs lights are on -- which is strange, because I usually only leave the downstairs ones on.
Maybe one of the maids from the resort inadvertently left it on?
As I walk inside, I'm met with a blanket of coldness, rather than the usual warmth of the cottage. I scan the downstairs area to see if there is a window or door that was left open -- but there doesn't appear to be.
I walk towards the kitchen counter to collect my laptop before I head upstairs to grab a few things, and when I turn around I'm standing face to face with a rosy cheeked little blonde boy.
His eyes are wide with fright, and a when I take another second to process what I'm seeing, I realize that his clothes are completely covered in blood.
"Help me," he says in a faint whisper.
And, as his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps to the floor right before my very eyes, I desperately race towards him to try and stop his head from bashing against the wooden steps.
Patrons walk past with confused looks on their faces. Just beyond Benny, I see a woman slumped in a chair crying. An older man has his arm around her for comfort. She is most likely the mother.
Linda walks over to Benny as I head towards the bar.
"Ah, no you don't! You'll ruin the concoction I've given you." Linda yells.
I swerve around and head back towards her and Benny. I fade in and out of the conversation they're having with the Detective because I can't seem to take my eyes off of the grief stricken mother. I feel really bad for her, and I hope that her little boy turns up ok.
"Apparently he suffers from a lot of mental disorders," explains the Detective to Linda who has asked about the father they most likely believe kidnapped the child.
When the Detective walks away, Benny tells me that Aunt Nancy and Uncle Hank are headed back since this could turn into a bit of a publicity nightmare.
I walk towards the dining room and look inside. It has a different, less jovial vibe. People eat quietly at their tables. There is an absence of bubbly laughter that you would usually hear around this time of night.
Beyond the dining room, through the glass doors I can see headlights from the patrol boats on the water.
"Is it ok if I stay with you guys tonight?" I say to Linda. I don't like the feeling of being alone in the cottage by myself.
"Absolutely," says Linda without hesitation.
"Cool, I'm just going to go back and get a few things," I tell her. She asks me if I want her to come with me, but when I point towards all the police swarming around the property she smiles.
"I think I'll be ok," I say as I make my way through the dining room towards the opposite side of the resort that shares the property line with the cottage.
As I exit through the dining room, the tension can be felt. Various officers are questioning guests who all seem to have not seen anything.
I cross my arms and put my hands under my pits. The winds have picked up and it is once again uncomfortably, and abnormally, cold for this time of year.
I make my way through the brush and trees, along the same path that I've tread these past few weeks going back and forth between both properties.
My mind drifts for a moment as I start to think how interrupted my life has become. It seems it's always chaotic just when I'm getting to the good part of whatever I'm writing.
I really can't wait to be done with all this chaos and finish the movie...
As I come out on the other side of the woods, I notice something peculiar. It takes me a moment to figure it out; for at first it's hard to place. I realize that the upstairs lights are on -- which is strange, because I usually only leave the downstairs ones on.
Maybe one of the maids from the resort inadvertently left it on?
As I walk inside, I'm met with a blanket of coldness, rather than the usual warmth of the cottage. I scan the downstairs area to see if there is a window or door that was left open -- but there doesn't appear to be.
I walk towards the kitchen counter to collect my laptop before I head upstairs to grab a few things, and when I turn around I'm standing face to face with a rosy cheeked little blonde boy.
His eyes are wide with fright, and a when I take another second to process what I'm seeing, I realize that his clothes are completely covered in blood.
"Help me," he says in a faint whisper.
And, as his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps to the floor right before my very eyes, I desperately race towards him to try and stop his head from bashing against the wooden steps.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Huh?
"Secularity is important in what aspect when it comes to internal will and strength?" says our Instructor as he dictates to us the final question on our exam.
I sit at my desk and think about the possibilities.
The Little Souls around me begin to write their answers; and although we all know what each of us is answering, we have the free will to answer on our own.
Like how our experience on Earth will be.
Free will...
"Can you please repeat the question?" I ask the Instructor, who looks at me with grave seriousness to make sure that I am not stalling. I open my heart towards him with sincerity, and so, he realizes that I am merely trying to process the question; so I can answer my best.
"Secularity is important in what aspect when it comes to internal will and strength?" he says more slowly.
I look around at all the other Little Souls who are busy writing their answers. I want to make sure that I don't just answer the question -- I want to make sure that I really understand it enough to answer.
This question is hard.
I look up above towards the celestial lights and try to gain inspiration from them. But I can't...
What aspect?
Internal will and strength doesn't come from me, it comes from the energy that pours out of the Great Being and through each of our hearts.
So why is Secularity important then?
Maybe what the Instructor means is why is it important on Earth? Another Little Soul nods when I think that. They tell me through our collective conscious that they are answering the question that way.
This is a really hard question, because we won't know what it feels like to be secular until we are in our Earthly bodies.
This question is so difficult...
What is secular in our Earthly bodies?
1. Our Mind
2. Our Will
3. Our Emotions
If those three things are secular then...
What aspect of them is important when it comes to internal will and strength?
We know that Internal will and strength comes from The Great Being and it's energy source...
Our Mind, Will, and Emotions are secular on Earth...
If our experience on Earth is secular, but the energy source for that experience comes from The Great Being -- then, the aspect would have to be beyond the internal; or beyond the capacity of our mind, will, and emotions.
I think of two words and write them down, even though I'm not exactly sure if I am right. This is a very difficult question. All the other Little Souls nod; they too had a hard time answering.
I put my pencil down after I've written two words that I think come out of our mind, will, and emotions -- but tap into the energy of the Great Beings' will and strength. Will and strength that we can feel in a secular experience, although it's not really secular.
I look at my two words and shrug my shoulders. I don't know if I'm right, but I think that they are a really good guess.
A Little Soul beside me leans over to read the two words, then looks at me and smiles.
"I like that," he says to me, as some of the others nod in agreement.
The Instructor tells us that we are allowed to change our answers, if we feel that someone else has answered better; and so, one by one, the other Little Souls change their answers and start to write the two words that I have written on my paper.
I look down at my two words because they are an aspect of secular, but not really. They come from our mind, will, and emotion (our secular experience on Earth) and can tap into our internal will and strength, which feels secular in our Earthly bodies, but really isn't.
I sit at my desk and think about the possibilities.
The Little Souls around me begin to write their answers; and although we all know what each of us is answering, we have the free will to answer on our own.
Like how our experience on Earth will be.
Free will...
"Can you please repeat the question?" I ask the Instructor, who looks at me with grave seriousness to make sure that I am not stalling. I open my heart towards him with sincerity, and so, he realizes that I am merely trying to process the question; so I can answer my best.
"Secularity is important in what aspect when it comes to internal will and strength?" he says more slowly.
I look around at all the other Little Souls who are busy writing their answers. I want to make sure that I don't just answer the question -- I want to make sure that I really understand it enough to answer.
This question is hard.
I look up above towards the celestial lights and try to gain inspiration from them. But I can't...
What aspect?
Internal will and strength doesn't come from me, it comes from the energy that pours out of the Great Being and through each of our hearts.
So why is Secularity important then?
Maybe what the Instructor means is why is it important on Earth? Another Little Soul nods when I think that. They tell me through our collective conscious that they are answering the question that way.
This is a really hard question, because we won't know what it feels like to be secular until we are in our Earthly bodies.
This question is so difficult...
What is secular in our Earthly bodies?
1. Our Mind
2. Our Will
3. Our Emotions
If those three things are secular then...
What aspect of them is important when it comes to internal will and strength?
We know that Internal will and strength comes from The Great Being and it's energy source...
Our Mind, Will, and Emotions are secular on Earth...
If our experience on Earth is secular, but the energy source for that experience comes from The Great Being -- then, the aspect would have to be beyond the internal; or beyond the capacity of our mind, will, and emotions.
I think of two words and write them down, even though I'm not exactly sure if I am right. This is a very difficult question. All the other Little Souls nod; they too had a hard time answering.
I put my pencil down after I've written two words that I think come out of our mind, will, and emotions -- but tap into the energy of the Great Beings' will and strength. Will and strength that we can feel in a secular experience, although it's not really secular.
I look at my two words and shrug my shoulders. I don't know if I'm right, but I think that they are a really good guess.
A Little Soul beside me leans over to read the two words, then looks at me and smiles.
"I like that," he says to me, as some of the others nod in agreement.
The Instructor tells us that we are allowed to change our answers, if we feel that someone else has answered better; and so, one by one, the other Little Souls change their answers and start to write the two words that I have written on my paper.
I look down at my two words because they are an aspect of secular, but not really. They come from our mind, will, and emotion (our secular experience on Earth) and can tap into our internal will and strength, which feels secular in our Earthly bodies, but really isn't.
So, I'm pretty sure that Faith and Belief are important secular aspects that help us tap into our energy that comes from The Great Being and feels like internal will and strength.
But to be honest, I'm really just guessing. I hope our Instructor goes over the answers after the exam, because I would really like to know the answer to this one question in particular.
It could help me when I'm down there.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mass Craziness
"I don't know if I can do this anymore," I say to Linda as I grab my head and slump onto the ground. The noise from the evening activity at the resort hums in the background.
"What do you mean?" Linda says as she stops trotting ahead of me and whips around to a full stop.
"I mean, let the beast come. I don't think I have it in me to fight it off." I tell her as tears form in my eyes. The ground is cold and damp, but somehow the numbness it adds to my legs makes me feel present. Alive.
"You do have it in you," Linda says with sadness in her voice as she walks towards me and grabs both of my hands. She can see I'm really upset.
We sit there for a moment as the cold evening winds whip past us. In the distance I can see lights coming from the guesthouses, and I know that one of them is hers and Benny's. We don't have much farther to go, but right now, under the weight of all that is rushing through my mind, I can't even stand.
"Come on," Linda tells me as she heaves me to my feet and wraps my arm around the back of her neck for leverage. "We don't have much farther to go."
I struggle to take the first few steps, at first my fatigue is too heavy, eventually it too becomes numb to the cold night air; and I manage to keep pace with Linda. Cold tears stream down my cheeks as we approach Linda's guesthouse; I am a mess. A riddled, anxious mess.
When we get into her guest house, Linda runs upstairs and returns a moment later with some sort of feather and stone amulet which hangs from a twine. She puts it over my neck and asks me to repeat chanting words after her. Which I do.
I have no idea what I'm saying, but I do start to feel better a minute or two later. And, while Linda collects powders and other ingredients from her kitchen -- I walk towards a chair, and sit patiently while the deeper breaths revitalize my lungs.
Linda walks over to the fireplace and starts lighting the kindle. A pot of some sort hangs to the right of the hearth, and I watch as she places it on the logs and starts to add ingredients. All the while she chants in a native tongue.
When it looks like she is finished with her chant I ask her what she was saying.
"A prayer of protection," she tells me with a smile. She walks back to her kitchen and returns with two glasses of water. When her concoction is boiled, she adds it to our glasses and makes a mulch-like tea.
"Drink all if it," she tells me matter-of-fact. I plug my nose and suck back the slimy muck. When we both are finished emptying our glasses, Linda stands, gives me a big smile and clinks glasses with me.
"You'll be fine now," she tells me as she douses the fire and puts the glasses in the sink.
I don't know what we just drank, but I do have less anxiety, more strength. I feel better. I no longer feel afraid. I know with full confidence that if I were to stand in front of the Caballos Demonios right now it wouldn't be able to enter me. I'm full. Completely connected with my inner strength. There is no room for fear.
"Shall we go find Benny and have some dinner?" Linda asks.
I nod. I think it will be good to return to the real world for a few hours.
As we walk towards the resort, the winds have calmed down. In the distance, I see Ralph walking towards us. He's with another officer.
I try not to let my mind slip into the paranoia that the Caballos Demonios could be in Ralph or anyone else for that matter, because I can't afford to live in fear. I need to be conscientious of the situation so I can overcome it.
I take a deep breath as he approaches.
"Everything ok?" he asks with genuine concern. I stare into his eyes intently, making sure there aren't any black beads staring back at me, before I respond.
"We're fine, yourself?" I tell him. I'm not being overly friendly.
Ralph looks at us for a moment before responding. I can tell that he doesn't have good news.
"What is it?" Linda says.
"There's been a kidnapping at the resort. We've been combing the area questioning people," he tells us. There is a great sadness in his voice.
I don't know why I didn't realize this a moment ago, but I look up to see helicopters with search lights combing properties around the lake. There are also patrol boats on the water. And Ralph's portable short wave has been buzzing non-stop.
"A kidnapping? Are you sure?" I ask confused.
"Yep, apparently a man came and grabbed his kid. His soon to be ex-wife was staying at the resort with her new man, and well...I guess he snapped."
That poor woman.
"If you see this man, or this kid let us know. His name is Mikey," Ralph says as he hands us a photocopy of their pictures.
"I will," I tell him.
"Absolutely," says Linda.
This night is becoming even crazier than I could have ever imagined. As Linda and I walk towards the resort to go and find Benny, I wonder if anything is ever going to return to normal again. I feel like the world is spinning into mass craziness around me...
And I don't like this feeling at all.
"What do you mean?" Linda says as she stops trotting ahead of me and whips around to a full stop.
"I mean, let the beast come. I don't think I have it in me to fight it off." I tell her as tears form in my eyes. The ground is cold and damp, but somehow the numbness it adds to my legs makes me feel present. Alive.
"You do have it in you," Linda says with sadness in her voice as she walks towards me and grabs both of my hands. She can see I'm really upset.
We sit there for a moment as the cold evening winds whip past us. In the distance I can see lights coming from the guesthouses, and I know that one of them is hers and Benny's. We don't have much farther to go, but right now, under the weight of all that is rushing through my mind, I can't even stand.
"Come on," Linda tells me as she heaves me to my feet and wraps my arm around the back of her neck for leverage. "We don't have much farther to go."
I struggle to take the first few steps, at first my fatigue is too heavy, eventually it too becomes numb to the cold night air; and I manage to keep pace with Linda. Cold tears stream down my cheeks as we approach Linda's guesthouse; I am a mess. A riddled, anxious mess.
When we get into her guest house, Linda runs upstairs and returns a moment later with some sort of feather and stone amulet which hangs from a twine. She puts it over my neck and asks me to repeat chanting words after her. Which I do.
I have no idea what I'm saying, but I do start to feel better a minute or two later. And, while Linda collects powders and other ingredients from her kitchen -- I walk towards a chair, and sit patiently while the deeper breaths revitalize my lungs.
Linda walks over to the fireplace and starts lighting the kindle. A pot of some sort hangs to the right of the hearth, and I watch as she places it on the logs and starts to add ingredients. All the while she chants in a native tongue.
When it looks like she is finished with her chant I ask her what she was saying.
"A prayer of protection," she tells me with a smile. She walks back to her kitchen and returns with two glasses of water. When her concoction is boiled, she adds it to our glasses and makes a mulch-like tea.
"Drink all if it," she tells me matter-of-fact. I plug my nose and suck back the slimy muck. When we both are finished emptying our glasses, Linda stands, gives me a big smile and clinks glasses with me.
"You'll be fine now," she tells me as she douses the fire and puts the glasses in the sink.
I don't know what we just drank, but I do have less anxiety, more strength. I feel better. I no longer feel afraid. I know with full confidence that if I were to stand in front of the Caballos Demonios right now it wouldn't be able to enter me. I'm full. Completely connected with my inner strength. There is no room for fear.
"Shall we go find Benny and have some dinner?" Linda asks.
I nod. I think it will be good to return to the real world for a few hours.
As we walk towards the resort, the winds have calmed down. In the distance, I see Ralph walking towards us. He's with another officer.
I try not to let my mind slip into the paranoia that the Caballos Demonios could be in Ralph or anyone else for that matter, because I can't afford to live in fear. I need to be conscientious of the situation so I can overcome it.
I take a deep breath as he approaches.
"Everything ok?" he asks with genuine concern. I stare into his eyes intently, making sure there aren't any black beads staring back at me, before I respond.
"We're fine, yourself?" I tell him. I'm not being overly friendly.
Ralph looks at us for a moment before responding. I can tell that he doesn't have good news.
"What is it?" Linda says.
"There's been a kidnapping at the resort. We've been combing the area questioning people," he tells us. There is a great sadness in his voice.
I don't know why I didn't realize this a moment ago, but I look up to see helicopters with search lights combing properties around the lake. There are also patrol boats on the water. And Ralph's portable short wave has been buzzing non-stop.
"A kidnapping? Are you sure?" I ask confused.
"Yep, apparently a man came and grabbed his kid. His soon to be ex-wife was staying at the resort with her new man, and well...I guess he snapped."
That poor woman.
"If you see this man, or this kid let us know. His name is Mikey," Ralph says as he hands us a photocopy of their pictures.
"I will," I tell him.
"Absolutely," says Linda.
This night is becoming even crazier than I could have ever imagined. As Linda and I walk towards the resort to go and find Benny, I wonder if anything is ever going to return to normal again. I feel like the world is spinning into mass craziness around me...
And I don't like this feeling at all.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Yep
Linda and I walk back towards the truck in silence. The temperature has dropped by over 20 degrees Celsius. It's freezing.
Consuela sits shivering in the back of the truck, wrapped in a poncho. She smiles at me to let me know that she is fine, and so I hop into the cab.
"Can you believe how cold it's gotten?" Linda says as she rubs her hands together and starts the car.
A moment later we are on the windy back road that will lead us through the woods and back towards the highway.
"Did you want to have dinner at the hotel with Benny and I?" Linda asks completely nonchalant.
I nod, but then eventually turn to her and say; "Why are you acting like everything is fine?"
It really pisses me off that she brought me here, and that a little old man has given me some bad news and now she's pretending that nothing is wrong.
Linda takes a moment before she responds, "I just don't want to upset you any more than I already have. I thought by coming here that Bob would help you purge some of your sorrow. I didn't think that it would get all creepy like that."
She turns to me and says with complete sincerity, "I'm really sorry. I really really am. I'm sorry that I got you messed up in this whole thing. That ceremony, where you were sleeping -- when Bob was chanting. That's usually good for releasing people's anxiety towards a memory. I thought that -- I thought that it would help you, not make things worse."
Tears start to fall down her cheeks.
I let the moment hang before responding, "You were only trying to help. This whole thing; and I don't even know what exactly it is. This whole thing is so completely upside down and backwards, that I don't even know where to begin." I say and let out a very deep sigh.
Linda nods. I think she gets it.
I can hear Consuela banging on the window in the back of the cab, but I ignore her.
"You know," Linda says after a moment, "I know of some recipes that are suppose to help ward off evil spirits. We can make some when we get back if you like."
In the distance I see a hitchhiker off to the side of the road.
The window behind me bangs even louder. I turn around to see Consuela pointing towards the woods. Her eyes are bulged. She's trying to tell me something, but I can't hear her over the wind whipping around outside. I look to my right to see if I can see what she is pointing to in the woods, but it's difficult. The trees blur together as we drive past them and the night sky masks anything between them.
As we approach the hitchhiker, Linda starts to slow down. It's a man. He looks like a hunter or a fisherman. Middle aged. As my window pulls up in front of him, he gives us a big smile when I hear --
"MIIIIIIIIIIIAAA!"
I look to my right, to see the Caballos Demonios racing out from the woods towards the man.
"Don't stop!" I tell Linda who is completely clueless to all of the commotion.
"What?" she says as I quickly lock my door. As Linda starts to speed up, the man who is only an arms length away from my door yells at us to stop. But an instant later, as I watch from my side view mirror, I can see the Caballos Demonios slip into him.
It's a complete Jurassic Park moment. "Object are closer than they appear" scrolls across the man who has now started to chase after us. He leaps for the back of the pickup truck, but Linda puts on the gas a bit more and we manage to pull out from under his grasp.
He lands on the ground. I turn around in my seat to watch what happens and, as the man stands to brush himself off, the Caballos Demonios exits and races back into the woods.
"Shit," I say and turn around to tell Linda that I think we're being chased.
As we drive away my heart starts to calm down, but I know that the beast is out there; lurking. Waiting. Wanting to destroy me so I won't what? Write a movie? A friggen movie?
I roll my eyes.
Linda can see my frustration, and so she reassures me that after she grabs some ingredients from her guest house, that we can create a protection amulet and potion. She tells me that everything is going to be fine. That I need to not give into my fears, for that will open the door for the beast. And no matter what happens, I am not to stop writing.
"Do you got that?" she tells me very matter-of-fact as we start to draw nearer to the resort.
"Yep," I tell her.
But what I really want to say is why the hell is this shit always happening to me?
Live - Selling the drama by FabCure
Consuela sits shivering in the back of the truck, wrapped in a poncho. She smiles at me to let me know that she is fine, and so I hop into the cab.
"Can you believe how cold it's gotten?" Linda says as she rubs her hands together and starts the car.
A moment later we are on the windy back road that will lead us through the woods and back towards the highway.
"Did you want to have dinner at the hotel with Benny and I?" Linda asks completely nonchalant.
I nod, but then eventually turn to her and say; "Why are you acting like everything is fine?"
It really pisses me off that she brought me here, and that a little old man has given me some bad news and now she's pretending that nothing is wrong.
Linda takes a moment before she responds, "I just don't want to upset you any more than I already have. I thought by coming here that Bob would help you purge some of your sorrow. I didn't think that it would get all creepy like that."
She turns to me and says with complete sincerity, "I'm really sorry. I really really am. I'm sorry that I got you messed up in this whole thing. That ceremony, where you were sleeping -- when Bob was chanting. That's usually good for releasing people's anxiety towards a memory. I thought that -- I thought that it would help you, not make things worse."
Tears start to fall down her cheeks.
I let the moment hang before responding, "You were only trying to help. This whole thing; and I don't even know what exactly it is. This whole thing is so completely upside down and backwards, that I don't even know where to begin." I say and let out a very deep sigh.
Linda nods. I think she gets it.
I can hear Consuela banging on the window in the back of the cab, but I ignore her.
"You know," Linda says after a moment, "I know of some recipes that are suppose to help ward off evil spirits. We can make some when we get back if you like."
In the distance I see a hitchhiker off to the side of the road.
The window behind me bangs even louder. I turn around to see Consuela pointing towards the woods. Her eyes are bulged. She's trying to tell me something, but I can't hear her over the wind whipping around outside. I look to my right to see if I can see what she is pointing to in the woods, but it's difficult. The trees blur together as we drive past them and the night sky masks anything between them.
As we approach the hitchhiker, Linda starts to slow down. It's a man. He looks like a hunter or a fisherman. Middle aged. As my window pulls up in front of him, he gives us a big smile when I hear --
"MIIIIIIIIIIIAAA!"
I look to my right, to see the Caballos Demonios racing out from the woods towards the man.
"Don't stop!" I tell Linda who is completely clueless to all of the commotion.
"What?" she says as I quickly lock my door. As Linda starts to speed up, the man who is only an arms length away from my door yells at us to stop. But an instant later, as I watch from my side view mirror, I can see the Caballos Demonios slip into him.
It's a complete Jurassic Park moment. "Object are closer than they appear" scrolls across the man who has now started to chase after us. He leaps for the back of the pickup truck, but Linda puts on the gas a bit more and we manage to pull out from under his grasp.
He lands on the ground. I turn around in my seat to watch what happens and, as the man stands to brush himself off, the Caballos Demonios exits and races back into the woods.
"Shit," I say and turn around to tell Linda that I think we're being chased.
As we drive away my heart starts to calm down, but I know that the beast is out there; lurking. Waiting. Wanting to destroy me so I won't what? Write a movie? A friggen movie?
I roll my eyes.
Linda can see my frustration, and so she reassures me that after she grabs some ingredients from her guest house, that we can create a protection amulet and potion. She tells me that everything is going to be fine. That I need to not give into my fears, for that will open the door for the beast. And no matter what happens, I am not to stop writing.
"Do you got that?" she tells me very matter-of-fact as we start to draw nearer to the resort.
"Yep," I tell her.
But what I really want to say is why the hell is this shit always happening to me?
Live - Selling the drama by FabCure
Thursday, May 6, 2010
You will have one chance
I'm floating through the purple sky above a lake. When I look down I can see Bob's little hut near the water. A stream of smoke flows out of the chimney and disperses into the sky.
I do a backwards somersault, and then another. There's something so refreshing about floating in the air. It's one of my favourite things to do.
When I look to my left Charlie is there. He reaches out his right hand for me to take, which I do.
"Come on darlin'," he says reassuringly as we soar over the lake towards a dock in the middle of the water. When we land on the dock a radio plays some strange music. I've never heard it before. I look around for my flip flops, but I can't see them anywhere. I peer over the edge of the dock to look into the water, but they're gone.
When I turn back to Charlie, I notice that he is chanting a weird chant. It goes with the music, but I'm not really sure how to dance to it -- and I don't like that I'm not wearing any shoes on the dance floor. I look around for Deandra, but I can't see her. I see the bartender looking at me weird as I walk away from Charlie towards the back hall to see if Deandra is in the washroom.
I don't like that I have no shoes on. The floor is sticky -- and there is broken glass everywhere. When I get to the back hall that leads towards the washroom, it's pitch black.
I pat my hands against the wall to guide me towards the bathroom door.
"Deandra?" I call out. I can hear someone in the distance. I take another step forward.
"Deandra?"
In the distance I see a stream of light peek out from the cracks around the bathroom door frame. It allows me to have a partial view of what is right in front of me.
I look to the floor to make sure there is no broken glass, and then carefully take another step.
When I look back up --
Bob is standing there. He looks me straight in the eye and says in perfect English, "Do not go near the bathroom."
A moment later I gasp, and open my eyes. I'm covered in sweat and laying on Bob's uncomfortable sofa. Beside me Bob is chanting with his eyes closed. Linda sits near the wall, simply observing. A fire crackles on the other side of the room, and the air is filled with different scents that I'm not used to.
I'm soaked in sweat.
A moment later Bob stops chanting and opens his eyes. He turns to Linda and tells her something in his raspy little voice.
Linda turns to me and says, "He has warned you. He says that he is confident that his chant of protection has told your soul how to protect itself."
I look to Linda, then Bob.
I sit up, and reach for my rusty glass of water; which is blessedly ice tea.
He has warned me?
After I quench my thirst, I turn back to Linda and tell her the only thing that comes to mind:
"But, I don't remember anything."
Linda translates to Bob, who says something again in his raspy little voice. A moment later Linda translates.
"He says that you will remember when the time comes. He says that your soul will recognize images that indicate the pending danger. And that..."
There goes Linda trailing off again...
"And that..." she looks down again and fidgets with her hands. She's upset.
I lose my cool,
"Oh, for fuck's sake Linda! Just spit it out!" I snap. My nerves are completely shot at this point. I'm in some wooden hut in the middle of nowhere being cryptically warned by a Shaman named Bob, and she has the nerve to add unnecessary dramatic pauses in my time of crisis?!?
I glare at her.
Linda takes a deep breath. The fire crackles louder in the background, and the winds outside the hut begin to howl with more vengeance.
Eventually Linda speaks. This time, there is a gravity in her voice like nothing I've heard before. She looks me square in the eye. Her deep brown eyes convey that she is speaking the absolute truth.
"You will have one opportunity to make your escape," she tells me without breaking her gaze.
A moment later, the pitch of the winds intensifies to a bone chilling shrill, and the fire goes out. I am left alone in the dark, with a cryptic message -- out in the wilderness. Completely exposed to all the dangers that lurk in my immediate future.
And trying very hard to not be afraid.
I do a backwards somersault, and then another. There's something so refreshing about floating in the air. It's one of my favourite things to do.
When I look to my left Charlie is there. He reaches out his right hand for me to take, which I do.
"Come on darlin'," he says reassuringly as we soar over the lake towards a dock in the middle of the water. When we land on the dock a radio plays some strange music. I've never heard it before. I look around for my flip flops, but I can't see them anywhere. I peer over the edge of the dock to look into the water, but they're gone.
When I turn back to Charlie, I notice that he is chanting a weird chant. It goes with the music, but I'm not really sure how to dance to it -- and I don't like that I'm not wearing any shoes on the dance floor. I look around for Deandra, but I can't see her. I see the bartender looking at me weird as I walk away from Charlie towards the back hall to see if Deandra is in the washroom.
I don't like that I have no shoes on. The floor is sticky -- and there is broken glass everywhere. When I get to the back hall that leads towards the washroom, it's pitch black.
I pat my hands against the wall to guide me towards the bathroom door.
"Deandra?" I call out. I can hear someone in the distance. I take another step forward.
"Deandra?"
In the distance I see a stream of light peek out from the cracks around the bathroom door frame. It allows me to have a partial view of what is right in front of me.
I look to the floor to make sure there is no broken glass, and then carefully take another step.
When I look back up --
Bob is standing there. He looks me straight in the eye and says in perfect English, "Do not go near the bathroom."
A moment later I gasp, and open my eyes. I'm covered in sweat and laying on Bob's uncomfortable sofa. Beside me Bob is chanting with his eyes closed. Linda sits near the wall, simply observing. A fire crackles on the other side of the room, and the air is filled with different scents that I'm not used to.
I'm soaked in sweat.
A moment later Bob stops chanting and opens his eyes. He turns to Linda and tells her something in his raspy little voice.
Linda turns to me and says, "He has warned you. He says that he is confident that his chant of protection has told your soul how to protect itself."
I look to Linda, then Bob.
I sit up, and reach for my rusty glass of water; which is blessedly ice tea.
He has warned me?
After I quench my thirst, I turn back to Linda and tell her the only thing that comes to mind:
"But, I don't remember anything."
Linda translates to Bob, who says something again in his raspy little voice. A moment later Linda translates.
"He says that you will remember when the time comes. He says that your soul will recognize images that indicate the pending danger. And that..."
There goes Linda trailing off again...
"And that..." she looks down again and fidgets with her hands. She's upset.
I lose my cool,
"Oh, for fuck's sake Linda! Just spit it out!" I snap. My nerves are completely shot at this point. I'm in some wooden hut in the middle of nowhere being cryptically warned by a Shaman named Bob, and she has the nerve to add unnecessary dramatic pauses in my time of crisis?!?
I glare at her.
Linda takes a deep breath. The fire crackles louder in the background, and the winds outside the hut begin to howl with more vengeance.
Eventually Linda speaks. This time, there is a gravity in her voice like nothing I've heard before. She looks me square in the eye. Her deep brown eyes convey that she is speaking the absolute truth.
"You will have one opportunity to make your escape," she tells me without breaking her gaze.
A moment later, the pitch of the winds intensifies to a bone chilling shrill, and the fire goes out. I am left alone in the dark, with a cryptic message -- out in the wilderness. Completely exposed to all the dangers that lurk in my immediate future.
And trying very hard to not be afraid.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Karen meet Bob
We're about an hour north of the resort when Linda turns to me and simply says, "What happened?"
I look away. Somehow staring into the the distance is easier than returning to the conversation that she's started.
"You know," says Linda as we ride for another moment or two in silence, "when you can talk about it, is when you will have power over it."
I take a deep breath, and smile. I'm not ready to talk about it. I'm barely ready to meet this person that she is bringing me to.
Another minute passes.
Linda turns on the radio to break the silence.
I watch an eagle soar over the trees. My mind drifts as I wonder what it would be like to soar so high above it all; just like an eagle.
We turn onto an unpaved road and drive for a few more minutes before coming to the edge of a lake. A small wooden hut rests on the property. It's old, and falling apart. The wooden planks on the porch have rotted, and so it slants on one side.
"We're here!" says Linda as she kills the ignition and hops out of the car. I step out, and am careful not to slip in the mud that surrounds the vehicle. I look behind me to see what Consuela is doing, but she's simply knitting in the back of the pickup. I suppose she'll come inside if she gets bored or lonely.
I walk behind Linda to the front door; which is slightly ajar. A torn and tattered screen door hangs from rusty hinges as Linda calls inside. She begins to say what I'm assuming is 'hello? anyone here?' but since she's speaking in a native tongue -- I can't exactly follow the conversation.
A moment later, in the shadows an elderly man approaches. At first he just peers at us as he hobbles towards the front door; but eventually he recognizes Linda and gives her a big toothless smile, followed by a frail gesture for us to enter into the hut.
He looks like he's been here since the fur trade.
"Karen, this is Bob." says Linda with a big smile.
"Bob?" I laugh. I was expecting him to have a name with lots of syllables and a few clicks of the tongue.
"Hi, Bob." I tell him. He smiles and gestures for us to sit on his very old, and very uncomfortable sofa.
"His English isn't very good," Linda tells me, as he disappears from the room. We can hear him clanking around in the kitchen.
"Why does he go by Bob if he can't really speak English?" I ask.
"I think he really likes that name," Linda tells me as we turn our attention back to Bob who struggles to bring us some drinks.
"Thank you," I tell him as he hands me what looks like either rusty tap water, or iced tea. When Bob eventually manages to settle in the seat across from us, he begins an animated conversation with Linda. I have no idea what they're talking about. Once in a while they both look at me and chuckle before continuing their chat.
I just sit there looking around Bob's little hut. It's musty and dark. The windows are all smudged over from years of not being cleaned. I can't believe he actually lives here.
Bob makes eye contact with me again, and so I give him a sheepish smile. I have no idea what the two of them are talking about. I feel left out of my own party.
A moment later, Linda finally clues me in. She tells me that Bob had a dream about me the other night, and that he knew I was coming to speak to him.
I lean forward.
This is interesting...
Even though the hairs on my arms are standing straight up, I'm completely intrigued. "Really?" I say as Linda prods him to find out more information. A moment later she turns back to me and says,
"He says that you are surrounded by three winged Ancestors."
I look around. I don't know why I'm looking around. It's not like I'm going to be able to see them, but I still search the room to see if I can see them. Which I can't.
"He also says, that they are very protective of you. But that..." she trails
I make direct eye contact with her. There's something that she doesn't want to tell me, but I look to her with assurance as if to say 'you have no choice but to tell me. Isn't that why we came here in the first place?'
Linda takes a deep breath, "...You will have to face the beast."
"What exactly does he mean, face the beast?" I need clarification. I know what Bob is talking about. Linda knows that I know what Bob is talking about. I'm pretty sure that Linda has a clue what Bob and I know; but I still want specifics.
"Ah..." says Linda.
Bob continues to talk in his raspy little voice. From time to time, he turns to me and gives me a toothless smile, before smacking his gums and turning back to Linda with more pertinent information.
It would be nice if one of them clued me in to my pending demise...
I raise my hand.
They both laugh, and then Linda turns to me and shares,
"He says that the beast was not after your friends, but was intended for you. He says that you are writing something very important -- and that the beast is hoping to stop you. To never be afraid, for that is how the beast can enter. He also says that he thinks you have a very good heart."
Great.
I have no idea how to process what Linda just told me. My stomach starts to knot a bit. Linda can see that I'm stressed, so she smiles. I place my forehead on my knees and take deep breaths to slow down my racing heart. A moment later I can feel Linda stroking my hair to calm me down.
When I look up to thank her after a few minutes; I see that both her hands are holding her glass of rusty water.
How did she do that?
Linda continues to chat with Bob, and I sit there, trying not to be afraid -- and realizing that this is a lot more grave than I originally had hoped for.
The beast is definitely here for me.
How could I not be afraid?
I look away. Somehow staring into the the distance is easier than returning to the conversation that she's started.
"You know," says Linda as we ride for another moment or two in silence, "when you can talk about it, is when you will have power over it."
I take a deep breath, and smile. I'm not ready to talk about it. I'm barely ready to meet this person that she is bringing me to.
Another minute passes.
Linda turns on the radio to break the silence.
I watch an eagle soar over the trees. My mind drifts as I wonder what it would be like to soar so high above it all; just like an eagle.
We turn onto an unpaved road and drive for a few more minutes before coming to the edge of a lake. A small wooden hut rests on the property. It's old, and falling apart. The wooden planks on the porch have rotted, and so it slants on one side.
"We're here!" says Linda as she kills the ignition and hops out of the car. I step out, and am careful not to slip in the mud that surrounds the vehicle. I look behind me to see what Consuela is doing, but she's simply knitting in the back of the pickup. I suppose she'll come inside if she gets bored or lonely.
I walk behind Linda to the front door; which is slightly ajar. A torn and tattered screen door hangs from rusty hinges as Linda calls inside. She begins to say what I'm assuming is 'hello? anyone here?' but since she's speaking in a native tongue -- I can't exactly follow the conversation.
A moment later, in the shadows an elderly man approaches. At first he just peers at us as he hobbles towards the front door; but eventually he recognizes Linda and gives her a big toothless smile, followed by a frail gesture for us to enter into the hut.
He looks like he's been here since the fur trade.
"Karen, this is Bob." says Linda with a big smile.
"Bob?" I laugh. I was expecting him to have a name with lots of syllables and a few clicks of the tongue.
"Hi, Bob." I tell him. He smiles and gestures for us to sit on his very old, and very uncomfortable sofa.
"His English isn't very good," Linda tells me, as he disappears from the room. We can hear him clanking around in the kitchen.
"Why does he go by Bob if he can't really speak English?" I ask.
"I think he really likes that name," Linda tells me as we turn our attention back to Bob who struggles to bring us some drinks.
"Thank you," I tell him as he hands me what looks like either rusty tap water, or iced tea. When Bob eventually manages to settle in the seat across from us, he begins an animated conversation with Linda. I have no idea what they're talking about. Once in a while they both look at me and chuckle before continuing their chat.
I just sit there looking around Bob's little hut. It's musty and dark. The windows are all smudged over from years of not being cleaned. I can't believe he actually lives here.
Bob makes eye contact with me again, and so I give him a sheepish smile. I have no idea what the two of them are talking about. I feel left out of my own party.
A moment later, Linda finally clues me in. She tells me that Bob had a dream about me the other night, and that he knew I was coming to speak to him.
I lean forward.
This is interesting...
Even though the hairs on my arms are standing straight up, I'm completely intrigued. "Really?" I say as Linda prods him to find out more information. A moment later she turns back to me and says,
"He says that you are surrounded by three winged Ancestors."
I look around. I don't know why I'm looking around. It's not like I'm going to be able to see them, but I still search the room to see if I can see them. Which I can't.
"He also says, that they are very protective of you. But that..." she trails
I make direct eye contact with her. There's something that she doesn't want to tell me, but I look to her with assurance as if to say 'you have no choice but to tell me. Isn't that why we came here in the first place?'
Linda takes a deep breath, "...You will have to face the beast."
"What exactly does he mean, face the beast?" I need clarification. I know what Bob is talking about. Linda knows that I know what Bob is talking about. I'm pretty sure that Linda has a clue what Bob and I know; but I still want specifics.
"Ah..." says Linda.
Bob continues to talk in his raspy little voice. From time to time, he turns to me and gives me a toothless smile, before smacking his gums and turning back to Linda with more pertinent information.
It would be nice if one of them clued me in to my pending demise...
I raise my hand.
They both laugh, and then Linda turns to me and shares,
"He says that the beast was not after your friends, but was intended for you. He says that you are writing something very important -- and that the beast is hoping to stop you. To never be afraid, for that is how the beast can enter. He also says that he thinks you have a very good heart."
Great.
I have no idea how to process what Linda just told me. My stomach starts to knot a bit. Linda can see that I'm stressed, so she smiles. I place my forehead on my knees and take deep breaths to slow down my racing heart. A moment later I can feel Linda stroking my hair to calm me down.
When I look up to thank her after a few minutes; I see that both her hands are holding her glass of rusty water.
How did she do that?
Linda continues to chat with Bob, and I sit there, trying not to be afraid -- and realizing that this is a lot more grave than I originally had hoped for.
The beast is definitely here for me.
How could I not be afraid?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Leave your shady solace
"I think it's good that you're releasing some tension," Linda tells me as the waitress fills our water glasses. We're having lunch outside. The weather is beautiful, and although the heat from the sun is intense, the umbrella beside our table creates a shady solace.
I shrug.
"You like to keep things inside of you, don't you?" Linda says as she takes a sip of her water.
"It's not that," I tell her as I take a bite of my salad. "It's just that I'm trying to move forward. I can't go back to that place, it's too...traumatic. It would debilitate me."
"I see," says Linda with all the wisdom of Obi Wan. She crosses her fingers in front of her and places her chin on her knuckles.
"You realize," she continues "that you won't be able to fully move forward until you lay to rest what has happened in the past?"
I nod. She's not telling me anything that I don't know.
We sit in silence for a moment.
"You know," Linda finally says, "A lot of people are afraid to face the things that have hurt them because they fear that if they go back to that memory, that all the raw emotions will encapsulate them."
"Like a hangover?" I say with a smirk on my face.
Linda gives me a smile, "So you do pay attention."
"I listen," I tell her. "Just because I'm too hungover to fully engage in a conversation, doesn't mean that I'm not hearing what you're saying."
"Alright then," she tells me as she uncrosses her fingers and slaps her legs with enthusiasm, "It's time for you to do a detox."
"A detox?" I ask. I'm pretty sure we're still speaking in metaphors.
"Yep. You need to lay to rest the thing that is upsetting you, so that you can survive it -- not be a victim to it," she tells me as she stands with purpose.
Have I been playing the victim?
Linda stands beside the table for a few seconds before I clue in.
"Like, right now?" I ask her.
"Absolutely," she tells me and reaches out her hand.
I let Linda help me out of the chair, and we begin to walk across the resort grounds towards the parking lot.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"I think I know the perfect person who can help you," she tells me as we draw closer to her truck. I see Consuela sitting in the back of the pickup like a good little immigrant, and so, as I hop into the passenger seat I feel slightly invigorated. Empowered.
"Thank you," I tell her as we drive away from the resort.
Linda gives me a warm smile and simply says, "We all need to help each other every now and then. Besides, I love this sort of stuff."
I have no idea exactly what Linda has in mind, but if it makes me less susceptible to the Caballos Demonios then I'm all for it. At this point I trust Linda. She's good people.
Linda is right.
Right?
I shrug.
"You like to keep things inside of you, don't you?" Linda says as she takes a sip of her water.
"It's not that," I tell her as I take a bite of my salad. "It's just that I'm trying to move forward. I can't go back to that place, it's too...traumatic. It would debilitate me."
"I see," says Linda with all the wisdom of Obi Wan. She crosses her fingers in front of her and places her chin on her knuckles.
"You realize," she continues "that you won't be able to fully move forward until you lay to rest what has happened in the past?"
I nod. She's not telling me anything that I don't know.
We sit in silence for a moment.
"You know," Linda finally says, "A lot of people are afraid to face the things that have hurt them because they fear that if they go back to that memory, that all the raw emotions will encapsulate them."
"Like a hangover?" I say with a smirk on my face.
Linda gives me a smile, "So you do pay attention."
"I listen," I tell her. "Just because I'm too hungover to fully engage in a conversation, doesn't mean that I'm not hearing what you're saying."
"Alright then," she tells me as she uncrosses her fingers and slaps her legs with enthusiasm, "It's time for you to do a detox."
"A detox?" I ask. I'm pretty sure we're still speaking in metaphors.
"Yep. You need to lay to rest the thing that is upsetting you, so that you can survive it -- not be a victim to it," she tells me as she stands with purpose.
Have I been playing the victim?
Linda stands beside the table for a few seconds before I clue in.
"Like, right now?" I ask her.
"Absolutely," she tells me and reaches out her hand.
I let Linda help me out of the chair, and we begin to walk across the resort grounds towards the parking lot.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"I think I know the perfect person who can help you," she tells me as we draw closer to her truck. I see Consuela sitting in the back of the pickup like a good little immigrant, and so, as I hop into the passenger seat I feel slightly invigorated. Empowered.
"Thank you," I tell her as we drive away from the resort.
Linda gives me a warm smile and simply says, "We all need to help each other every now and then. Besides, I love this sort of stuff."
I have no idea exactly what Linda has in mind, but if it makes me less susceptible to the Caballos Demonios then I'm all for it. At this point I trust Linda. She's good people.
Linda is right.
Right?
Monday, May 3, 2010
Open your heart...and breathe
"Forward fall..."
Linda has convinced me to come to one of the Yoga classes at the resort. I actually don't mind Yoga so much. There's something about the slow breathing and the hypnotic voice of the instructor that soothes me.
"Up to flat back, looking straight ahead..."
I look to my left. Consuela is lying in Shavasana. Her mouth is gaped open, and her tongue has fallen out to the right. She is completely conked out.
"Sun salutation..."
"Upward dog..."
"Downward facing dog..."
"Breathe..."
I try to push my heels to the floor so I can maximize the stretch. It's a little humbling doing Yoga with Linda. She's got that long lanky Pocahontas body-type, and so she moves like a fluid stream of water morphing into one pose, then another. Like that thing from The Abyss.
"Warrior One..."
I try to make sure that my knee is perpendicular to my ankle. There is a lot of mental clarity when you do Yoga. I'm glad Linda asked me to come with her.
"Left hand on the outside of your left foot...stretching your right hand up above..."
The instructor is walking around adjusting peoples poses.
Please don't come to me. Please don't come to me...
I give her a smile as she straightens my right arm above my head, and pushes my left shoulder forward...
She leans closer to me and whispers, "Deep breath and...open your heart. Feel the stretch." She guides me deeper into the stretch, but my body is resisting.
"Deep breath..." she says and adds a little more pressure.
I try to breathe my way into it, but I can't. My shoulders have completely tensed up. I'm having trouble moving into this pose. I push myself a little further before I realize that tears are starting to drop onto the mat.
I'm mortified.
Linda can see me in the mirror. She gives me an encouraging smile.
The tears continue to fall methodically, one by one, onto the mat. A moment later we fall forward, then flat back looking straight ahead.
When we return to Warrior 3, this time facing the other side of the room -- I can see Consuela. As I push my right shoulder into the stretch and open up my heart, Consuela begins to convulse.
We fall forward...then flat back looking straight ahead.
We repeat this set two more times. By the end no more tears seem to fall. I guess, I've managed to open up my heart this morning. But I'm worried.
As we all lay in Shavasana, I start to wonder what the effect of having an open heart will be, especially since I can't be vulnerable right now.
More tears begin to silently stream down both sides of my cheeks.
I need to ask Linda about the tears when we're done class. She'll have an answer for me. I just hope it's something that I want to hear.
Linda has convinced me to come to one of the Yoga classes at the resort. I actually don't mind Yoga so much. There's something about the slow breathing and the hypnotic voice of the instructor that soothes me.
"Up to flat back, looking straight ahead..."
I look to my left. Consuela is lying in Shavasana. Her mouth is gaped open, and her tongue has fallen out to the right. She is completely conked out.
"Sun salutation..."
"Upward dog..."
"Downward facing dog..."
"Breathe..."
I try to push my heels to the floor so I can maximize the stretch. It's a little humbling doing Yoga with Linda. She's got that long lanky Pocahontas body-type, and so she moves like a fluid stream of water morphing into one pose, then another. Like that thing from The Abyss.
"Warrior One..."
I try to make sure that my knee is perpendicular to my ankle. There is a lot of mental clarity when you do Yoga. I'm glad Linda asked me to come with her.
"Left hand on the outside of your left foot...stretching your right hand up above..."
The instructor is walking around adjusting peoples poses.
Please don't come to me. Please don't come to me...
I give her a smile as she straightens my right arm above my head, and pushes my left shoulder forward...
She leans closer to me and whispers, "Deep breath and...open your heart. Feel the stretch." She guides me deeper into the stretch, but my body is resisting.
"Deep breath..." she says and adds a little more pressure.
I try to breathe my way into it, but I can't. My shoulders have completely tensed up. I'm having trouble moving into this pose. I push myself a little further before I realize that tears are starting to drop onto the mat.
I'm mortified.
Linda can see me in the mirror. She gives me an encouraging smile.
The tears continue to fall methodically, one by one, onto the mat. A moment later we fall forward, then flat back looking straight ahead.
When we return to Warrior 3, this time facing the other side of the room -- I can see Consuela. As I push my right shoulder into the stretch and open up my heart, Consuela begins to convulse.
We fall forward...then flat back looking straight ahead.
We repeat this set two more times. By the end no more tears seem to fall. I guess, I've managed to open up my heart this morning. But I'm worried.
As we all lay in Shavasana, I start to wonder what the effect of having an open heart will be, especially since I can't be vulnerable right now.
More tears begin to silently stream down both sides of my cheeks.
I need to ask Linda about the tears when we're done class. She'll have an answer for me. I just hope it's something that I want to hear.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
I'm not empty?
"Mia, I iz told yer dat da Caballos Demonios iz coming, but yer no want to listen to Consuela. Yer iz sinkin dat Consuela iz stoopid. I iz not stupid Mia! I IZ RIGHT!"
Oh give me a fucking break...
I walk right past Consuela. The last thing I need right now is an 'i told yer so' speech from that fat little fuck.
"Go away," I yell at her as I run up the stairs.
"I iz not go away! Yer sink yer can say "go away" and Consuela go away. But Consuela no go away! I NO GO AWAY!!!"
I slam the bedroom door behind me and run towards my bed, flopping face first onto one of the pillows.
"Yer iz need to leesten to me, Mia. Yer iz in da danger and da Caballos Demonios iz here! Da wife of da Benny she show yer dat, and now yer believe me. And now yer iz lying on da bed -- and I know yer can still hear me wis da pillow on yer head. And I know yer can still hear me when yer sing da la la la la la, I can sing da la la la la la too yer know. LA LA LA LA LA LA LALA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
I roll over to face her.
"Shut the FUCK up!" I tell her as I sit up on the bed and take a deep breath.
Consuela plops into one of the reading chairs and looks at me with her more serious face.
"Mia, yer iz in da danger. Yer iz have da big problem, yer know?" she says and then peers out the window to see if the Caballos Demonios is levitating outside of the cottage.
"Yeah, I got that," I tell her and then stand. I can't hide in my bedroom. I'm not five years old anymore.
I open the bedroom door and start to walk downstairs. Linda said the Elders think that it can only jump into people who are empty. So...I just have to not be empty.
Am I empty?
Fuck.
I walk towards the kitchen to grab some...
I rummage.
Ah!
Carbonated water and a little vodka sounds perfect right about now.
Are there any limes?
Bingo!
"Mia, yer iz gonna do somesing,ok? Yer iz gonna tell da nice Linda dat yer need to borrow da Benny for da marriage, ok?" says Consuela as she shadows to the right of me as I rummage around in the cupboards looking for the vodka.
"I am not using Benny," I tell her matter-of-fact, and then walk towards the deck with the carbonated water, lime juice, and a glass under my arm.
"But yer iz no have da love, and so yer iz empty!"
I slam the sliding glass door in her face. When I turn around she is standing in front of me, "And da Benny - I sink he is da good huzband for yer. Yer should be wis da Benny!" she continues as I walk down the steps towards the dock near the lake.
"Seriously Consuela, I don't need to hear this right now. I am not empty!" I tell her as I grab a bottle of vodka from the outdoor bar and continue walking.
"I sink dat yer iz empty, Mia." Consuela yells back as she waddles behind me. I have longer legs than her, so she's trailing by a few feet.
When I get to the dock, I fill my glass and look straight ahead at the water.
A minute later Consuela plunks down beside me. It takes her a few seconds as she calibrates how to offset the weight of her very round middle as she lowers to the ground -- but she eventually does it. And the dock only shakes a little bit.
"I'm not empty," I tell her after the vodka kicks in, and my nerves have calmed down. We're both watching the sun bob along the tops of the trees before it prepares to go away for a few hours.
Consuela places her chubby little hand on my arm, looks at me and says "But yer iz not have da man to love. So, I sink dat yer heart iz empty. No?" she tells me with a softer look on her face. I know Consuela, in all her backwards fucked up knowledge and limited capacity, means well -- but I disagree with her on this one.
"So, you just want me to love someone?" I say as the vodka really kicks in and my eye lids start to become heavy.
"No, Mia. I iz want da someone to love yer. Den yer heart iz not so empty," she tells me and smiles.
I fixate on her teeth -- or lack of them for a moment. I start to wonder how difficult it must have been not having access to a dentist in the mountains of Peru.
"I know," I tell her and place my arm around her shoulders as we share the sunset.
"I know Consuela," I say, as I use my other hand to pour out the last of the bottle. I raise my glass to the sun one more time before it dips behind the trees. A moment later the lake turns purple, then dark blue.
We sit there for another few minutes, until we see a pair of loons swimming by. I look up to see the stars wink to the lake district as evening begins to bloom.
Maybe Consuela does have a point. Maybe there is a place in every person's heart, albeit tiny, that holds a pocket of emptiness for someone else to fill. I'm not really sure. But as I lean back on the deck and watch the stars intensify as the night becomes darker -- I know that if I am empty, even on an unconscious level, that I could become susceptible to the Caballos Demonios.
And that, would be very bad indeed.
Oh give me a fucking break...
I walk right past Consuela. The last thing I need right now is an 'i told yer so' speech from that fat little fuck.
"Go away," I yell at her as I run up the stairs.
"I iz not go away! Yer sink yer can say "go away" and Consuela go away. But Consuela no go away! I NO GO AWAY!!!"
I slam the bedroom door behind me and run towards my bed, flopping face first onto one of the pillows.
"Yer iz need to leesten to me, Mia. Yer iz in da danger and da Caballos Demonios iz here! Da wife of da Benny she show yer dat, and now yer believe me. And now yer iz lying on da bed -- and I know yer can still hear me wis da pillow on yer head. And I know yer can still hear me when yer sing da la la la la la, I can sing da la la la la la too yer know. LA LA LA LA LA LA LALA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
I roll over to face her.
"Shut the FUCK up!" I tell her as I sit up on the bed and take a deep breath.
Consuela plops into one of the reading chairs and looks at me with her more serious face.
"Mia, yer iz in da danger. Yer iz have da big problem, yer know?" she says and then peers out the window to see if the Caballos Demonios is levitating outside of the cottage.
"Yeah, I got that," I tell her and then stand. I can't hide in my bedroom. I'm not five years old anymore.
I open the bedroom door and start to walk downstairs. Linda said the Elders think that it can only jump into people who are empty. So...I just have to not be empty.
Am I empty?
Fuck.
I walk towards the kitchen to grab some...
I rummage.
Ah!
Carbonated water and a little vodka sounds perfect right about now.
Are there any limes?
Bingo!
"Mia, yer iz gonna do somesing,ok? Yer iz gonna tell da nice Linda dat yer need to borrow da Benny for da marriage, ok?" says Consuela as she shadows to the right of me as I rummage around in the cupboards looking for the vodka.
"I am not using Benny," I tell her matter-of-fact, and then walk towards the deck with the carbonated water, lime juice, and a glass under my arm.
"But yer iz no have da love, and so yer iz empty!"
I slam the sliding glass door in her face. When I turn around she is standing in front of me, "And da Benny - I sink he is da good huzband for yer. Yer should be wis da Benny!" she continues as I walk down the steps towards the dock near the lake.
"Seriously Consuela, I don't need to hear this right now. I am not empty!" I tell her as I grab a bottle of vodka from the outdoor bar and continue walking.
"I sink dat yer iz empty, Mia." Consuela yells back as she waddles behind me. I have longer legs than her, so she's trailing by a few feet.
When I get to the dock, I fill my glass and look straight ahead at the water.
A minute later Consuela plunks down beside me. It takes her a few seconds as she calibrates how to offset the weight of her very round middle as she lowers to the ground -- but she eventually does it. And the dock only shakes a little bit.
"I'm not empty," I tell her after the vodka kicks in, and my nerves have calmed down. We're both watching the sun bob along the tops of the trees before it prepares to go away for a few hours.
Consuela places her chubby little hand on my arm, looks at me and says "But yer iz not have da man to love. So, I sink dat yer heart iz empty. No?" she tells me with a softer look on her face. I know Consuela, in all her backwards fucked up knowledge and limited capacity, means well -- but I disagree with her on this one.
"So, you just want me to love someone?" I say as the vodka really kicks in and my eye lids start to become heavy.
"No, Mia. I iz want da someone to love yer. Den yer heart iz not so empty," she tells me and smiles.
I fixate on her teeth -- or lack of them for a moment. I start to wonder how difficult it must have been not having access to a dentist in the mountains of Peru.
"I know," I tell her and place my arm around her shoulders as we share the sunset.
"I know Consuela," I say, as I use my other hand to pour out the last of the bottle. I raise my glass to the sun one more time before it dips behind the trees. A moment later the lake turns purple, then dark blue.
We sit there for another few minutes, until we see a pair of loons swimming by. I look up to see the stars wink to the lake district as evening begins to bloom.
Maybe Consuela does have a point. Maybe there is a place in every person's heart, albeit tiny, that holds a pocket of emptiness for someone else to fill. I'm not really sure. But as I lean back on the deck and watch the stars intensify as the night becomes darker -- I know that if I am empty, even on an unconscious level, that I could become susceptible to the Caballos Demonios.
And that, would be very bad indeed.
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