Sycorax's Daughters

by Kinitra Brooks, PhD

  In the morning, you will erase her from existence. You will let the day’s drudgery make a meal of your heart. You will withdraw. You will lock away all softness, all surrender. When the malady comes, you will clench the corners of your lips. You will go tense as it straddles your shoulders and chokes you with your own need. You will roll over and stroke your hardness. You will come in silence, consumed by dread.

  The Ever After

  by L. Marie Wood

  Chapter One

  Oh. My. God.

  I couldn’t stop myself from screaming. I had been screaming since it started. I breathed in and out, in and out, only vaguely registering the odd taste of the air, the sulfuric smell.

  Dead.

  I must be dead. Surely after a fall from so high, no one could have survived. I looked around at the bodies that littered the field, legs askance, arms bent at impossible angles, and I nodded. We’re all dead.

  My eyes watered as I looked up at the brilliant blue sky. I was up there. A shiver ran through me as I remembered. It was midday, maybe two or three o’clock – exactly the time when I always start to feel restless at my desk. I wanted the day to be over. I wanted to go out in the sunshine and play. Sometimes I wondered if I was really cut out to work in an office. The walls seemed to close in on me. I couldn’t focus, didn’t want to think. I hated my cube walls. I hated my officemates. I hated the work. So uninteresting. So unimportant. I wanted to do something real, something that mattered.

  I was on the way outside for my normal break (I take five breaks every day. No, I do not smoke) and I was itching to get outside. It took everything I had not to bolt out of the door.

  “Enjoy your break.”

  That’s what he said. Enjoy your break. Such a normal comment, a throw away, something you really don’t mean but you say just to be nice. It’s like when people say ‘Have a good day!’ or ‘How are you?’ They don’t really want a response; they don’t want to listen to some long, drawn out story. They just needed something to say. Enjoy your break. If he hadn’t said it I would have escaped the image of what he would become.

  “Enjoy your break,” said the guard whose name I never knew. His smile was genuine enough but he wasn’t even looking at me when he said it. He had already moved on to the next person, addressing someone else from his cramped little room. I smiled back anyway, a thin-lipped thing that could just as easily have been a grimace. And that’s when it happened.

  Gravity simply gave way.

  First my hair lifted off my head and rose above me like a crown, then my feet lifted off the ground. What I felt was confirmed by what I saw; the guard, several inches taller than me, rose off the ground and struck the low ceiling of his security shack. Blood, bone, and matter rained down in a torrent from the hole he created as he pressed through, breaking into the ceiling. There was a horrible sound - a wet, cracking, popping noise.

  Oh. My. God.

  In one wild instant I caught a glimpse of the world below me. My purse had fallen off my shoulder and was lying in the ground. The papers and pencils that littered the guard’s desk were splattered with his blood. None of those things were floating up to oblivion. This wasn’t gravity giving way. This was something else.

  I screamed for the guard but also for myself as I began moving toward the higher ceiling of the lobby and toward that poor man’s same fate. I grabbed the doorframe and pulled myself outside, ducking through with barely enough time to clear the rest of my body. Pressing, pushing—I tried to will my feet to connect with the ground, but it was futile. It was as if I was on an invisible lift being raised up. My ascent was beyond my control.

  People outside rose with me, some above me, some below me, some in sync. The ride was slow enough for me to take in what was happening, just long enough for me to become afraid. Smoke from car accidents below billowed up to us, giving chase. There was so much screaming and crying. I heard people cursing the very gods they prayed to every night. I saw people try to move toward each other craving touch, a hand to hold as we rose to our deaths. Surely that’s what we were doing—rising to our deaths. Soon we wouldn’t be able to breathe or we’d freeze to death or…

  I laughed through my tears. Leave it to me to forget which would happen first. Jenny the airhead forever. Never taking anything seriously. But this was serious all right. It was the end of the world.

  Windows shattered as people scraped through them on their way upward, bloodied. Glass protruded out of open wounds, heads cut open to reveal the smooth sheen of bone. Severed heads and detached limbs rose from the crashes below, bobbing on the wind like grotesque Macy’s parade floats.

  Babies cried. Perhaps that was the worst part.

  The air turned cold and I began to understand with unwanted clarity that it wouldn’t be long now. If gravity kicked in at this point the drop would crush me. If I didn’t stop rising, I would freeze to death. If I escaped that death somehow I would not be able to breathe outside of Earth’s atmosphere. Crazily, I wondered if a spaceship would pick me up? Would I stop on a cloud and see my grandmother waiting there? Delirium had already begun to set in.

  My life had been aimless, a collection of unfulfilled dreams and wishful thinking. And now it was over. I cried for myself—for what I wanted to do, but hadn’t; for the pain I would surely feel when I met my end regardless of how. I shut my eyes to the terrifying world before me and opened them to this one with the strange blue sky above my head and rough grass beneath me.

  People lay scattered on the ground, lifeless, except the ones who sat ramrod straight looking up at the sun with unblinking, inky eyes.

  When I sat up under that freakishly blue sky they all turned to look at me.

  Chapter Two

  I wasn’t going to cut her.

  The thought greeted me as I woke up in the comically green crabgrass. Even as it flitted away out of my grasp, I knew it was a lie. I meant to cut her and had wanted to from the moment I knew I was ready to leave. I just didn’t have the guts to do it.

  But I did it, didn’t I?

  I saw the knife in my hand, saw myself raising it above my head and thrusting it down fast. I heard Felicia yelling at me in that condescending way until she felt the blade pierce her skin. Then she screamed in pain. And fear.

  I remember liking that part most of all.

  I remember telling her that I couldn’t take it anymore, that she needed to act like a woman and not a man. I already have a man and he knew his role. She needed to learn hers. But she wouldn’t.

  When I wanted her it was because I craved soft, sexy, alluring: pretty, damn it. Not bossy, foul-mouthed, and rough.

  She wasn’t always that way. When we started seeing each other she was sweet and loving. Her face lit up when she saw me. She used to call me Brandy when I hit it right. But when I met Paul and brought him home—when I kissed Paul before kissing her— she changed. She was waiting; I knew that. She was waiting for me to choose her over Paul. She pretended to like our three-way romance and probably did enjoy the sex if she didn’t think about it too much. But she wanted me for herself and not having me made her mad and mean.

  Cutting her meant I had chosen. Finally.

  My apartment was covered in blood. The walls were splashed with it as I chased her around. Once I started cutting I had to finish but she wouldn’t stay still. I was on top of her when it happened, making sure she was dead. Her body was warm between my legs. Her little titties were pushed together in her bra, teasing me for the last time.

  I should have fucked her one more time before I killed her.

  I was thinking that when the sky fell.

  It seemed like a cutaway for a TV show; my vision went all white for a second and then gradually came back, showing me this new, weird world. What I saw when I opened my eyes didn’t make sense.

  People were staggering, leaning, falling over. I saw bodies on the ground—some were moving but others were still. Most people were just staring up at that crazy sky. I looked, too—I felt like I was
being hypnotized. My body rocked, moving like a dandelion in

  the breeze. I imagined that my head was like the white fuzz on a dandelion with seeds blowing off in the wind. My hair, nose, and ears blew off, too, twisting and turning in the wind and leaving droplets of blood on the ground.

  That image is what woke me.

  I looked down, certain I would see Felicia beneath me, her chest destroyed by that piece-of-shit knife I used on her. I was covered in blood, had to be; I could almost feel it coating my arms. But there wasn’t any blood at all. No knife either. And Felicia was nowhere to be found.

  I was kneeling in grass with thick, curly lime greenish blades that seemed to creep toward me in the wind, like they wanted to wrap around my ankles. I shook my head and laughed at myself as I stood up, only distantly wondering where these crazy thoughts were coming from. I felt a lot of things in that moment but the main thing was relief. And power.

  I felt fucking awesome.

  I killed my lady (‘that bitch’ seemed too harsh a name for her now and got away with it. It was all cleaned up and left behind. It didn’t matter that this new place didn’t seem real. It didn’t freak me out that the grass and the sky—the fucking sun—looked more like a kids finger painting than something of this world. I didn’t even give a shit that there was a guy on the other side of a tree that seemed like he came out of an animated Halloween special staring right at me with eyes that looked like black holes.

  I just figured it was part of the crazy-assed hallucinations I was having. Maybe killing Felicia was all bullshit, too.

  No blood—maybe it was all a dream. The thought made me laugh. It couldn’t be true; I remembered how warm and slick her blood felt on my hands before waking up in this weird place too well for it to be my imagination, but go with it for a second. Maybe Felicia wasn’t dead. Maybe I didn’t even attack her—who gives a damn? All I care about is that right now is that she’s gone, which means the shit is over.

  Amidst all the screaming and whining, I laughed like I had never laughed before.

  Chapter Three

  I knew that life the way I knew it had irreversibly changed the moment I saw a corpse driving a car. I also knew I was tripping, but not so hard that I didn’t know a dead man when I saw one.

  The man behind the wheel of a red Subaru that had seen better days was middle-aged and his chin sported fresh stubble. His old- fashioned wire rim glasses were perched on his nose. There wasn’t anything discernibly wrong with him, not at first glance. He looked like a regular guy driving around town on a sunny day. Except this ‘regular guy’ couldn’t be driving around today or ever again for that matter. I knew that because my mom had gone to his funeral just a couple of days ago.

  Get your shit together, Carrie.

  I sat up taller, took a deep breath, and put both hands on the wheel, trying to shake off what had to be the result of some bad Spice. I’ll never buy shit from that asshole Tyler again.

  Mr. Ridley nodded as I coasted next to him, coming dangerously close to hitting the Subaru and giving it (and him) the burial it deserved. Some of the lines that had etched themselves in his face when he was alive had smoothed out and his hair, lackluster at best before he collapsed in front of the library clutching his chest, had regained some body and even some color. There wasn’t any green decomposing skin, no withered lips and rotted gums, nothing like that. Is this what zombies really look like? Wait, are zombies real and this is what happens? I had convinced myself that I was hallucinating somewhere along the way, and was settling into the fantasy...and it was freaking me out fast. Do we just reanimate after we die and go on about our merry way? Shouldn’t you move to a new town if you’re going to do that? I mean, what if you bump into someone that knew you when you were alive—

  It was the wave that did me in.

  Just a gentle flick of the wrist: an open-handed salute. It was so jovial, so natural. His hand seemed to glow. The sky behind him was the brightest, darkest blue I’d ever seen. It was like the night sky was backlit by a spotlight or something. It made the sky weird. Too blue. It was kind of like the color of the water you see when you’re out in the middle of the ocean. That’s how it looked on that cruise Mom and Dad took me on before I started high school. The water was so deep out there—it seemed like you would never find the bottom if you dropped anchor. I remember staring at it every day, getting more and more spooked. How could anyone survive out there? Who knows what lurks beneath the surface?

  Blue, teal, turquoise, and midnight all rolled into one—that’s what the color of the sky looked like. It was as wrong as Mr. Ridley was. His hand looked obscenely bright against it but he didn’t seem to notice. He just went on waving at me under the weirdest looking sky I’d ever seen.

  Please don’t smile.

  I don’t think I can handle it if he smiles.

  I didn’t feel my car careen off the road and hit the turnbuckle because I was too busy staring at Mr. Ridley and the sky. The sky and Mr. Ridley. I passed out before the impact, praying that Mr. Ridley didn’t smile and show me his pointy teeth.

  Chapter Four

  I didn’t know I was looking for something new, but, damn, he is gorgeous. Dirty blond, blue-eyes, with abs that lead into the most perfect pelvic muscle I’ve ever seen up close. Australian accent on a velvety voice, barely legal, and eager. He’s the polar opposite of any other man I’ve ever been with, but I’m not complaining. He takes his time and savors me like fine wine. I could listen to him moan all day long and sometimes I do just that. He leaves me satisfied and crazy for more.

  I’m so preoccupied with Dustin that I rarely even think of Jared anymore.

  Dustin adores me. He says as much, but that’s not how I know. It’s when I catch him looking at me out of the corner of my eye that speaks volumes. His face goes through so many emotions at once, it’s almost painful to watch. Love, admiration, obsession, lust. Fear. He wants this to last forever and doesn’t know if it can.

  He’s beautiful and smart.

  He loves the sun and lets it kiss his skin with zeal; watching him take off his shirt in its yellow glow is an exercise in restraint.

  He wants to marry me, but that will never be. Regardless of what happens between Jared and me, I would never go on record as being 21 years my husband’s senior. Dustin just laughs when I say that. He says he’ll push my wheelchair out to see the surf every day if that’s what I want. Ah, my pretty. I think he really believes he would.

  He met me on the beach today. Just ran by me with his board under his arm; I sensed him more than saw him until he had run several paces away. He threw a kiss over his shoulder and dove into the tumultuous sea, ready to enjoy the waves for as long as the sunlight held. I was content to watch him move in the water, read my book, and feel the breeze.

  This had become my typical day and I loved every minute of it.

  Sometimes I wondered what was going on between us. Is this just a fling? How did this happen? There are so many things that I don’t remember. I feel like I’m drunk on whatever this is— passion, lust, love? I don’t remember when I decided I was going to cheat on Jared. We weren’t having any problems—life was the comfortable normal that marriages slip into over time. I know Jared as well as I know myself—does he know what I’ve been up to?

  As I watched Dustin come out of the surf I can understand what caught my eye. Any woman would be hard pressed to not do a double-take. But I never thought I’d cheat.

  As Dustin came closer those thoughts were invaded by others— ones that make me shift in my seat. It made the worries seem unimportant. For now.

  I felt my cheeks get hot as he stood over me. His lopsided smile was my undoing. I felt flutters deep in my belly and had to look away. This is one hell of a forty-something-woman-going- through-a-midlife-crisis checklist item, that’s for sure.

  Dustin laid me down on the sand. He kissed my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my mouth. His touch, made rough by the white sand, still managed to raise goose bumps
on my skin. He

  stretched my arms overhead, clasped one hand in his, palm to palm, fingers interlaced like first loves often do, and traced a line from my elbow to waist with the other, watching his fingers as they moved. I could see the desire in his eyes as he looked at my body, could sense the control he struggled to keep over himself. He bit his lip to keep it at bay, his desire threatening to quicken his pace. He wanted to go slowly because he knew I liked it when he did, even though he felt like he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to savor me, though his mouth watered. That realization affected me in a way I didn’t expect. The tears that stung the corners of my eyes were real. Exhilaratingly real, and so very scary.

  He guided himself inside me without ever letting go of my hand.

  The sky looked incredible. Such a brilliant blue. I was trying

  to come up with the name for it; the name was just on the tip of my tongue when Dustin sent me over the edge. Then I started thinking about how I might never go home if this pretty young thing plans to fuck me like this every time.

  And then I stopped thinking all together.

  The last thing I saw before I woke up to the brilliant blue of that weird sky was the first thing I was looking for, but couldn’t find. Where is Dustin? I looked around taking in all the people scattered about in various stages of confusion, but none of them kept my attention. But the sky did.

  It kept pulling my eyes away from the search. Though the color was the same, it wasn’t beautiful to me anymore.

  It was all- encompassing and thick. Heavy. It seemed to bear down upon me, as interested in crushing me as in hovering above me. I felt its menace in every part of my body.

  My clothes were the same—a sundress and sandals—still hiked up over my hips the way Dustin had me. My skin looked the same and I felt the same. But everything had changed.