After I Ate the Apple
I saw colors a little bit different,
edges of the garden came into focus,
I took a little walk – just to see what was out there
I planned on coming back, really I did.
Found magic in my hands and my hips,
found even a look could stir things up
so I stirred and stirred
making little and big things.
With the walking my legs got stronger
even with the calluses, I kept walking
making things bright and shiny, sweet and sour,
I kept on stirring.
I planned to return, to show you what I found.
Oh, there were so many things,
so much to stir up – keeping me busy,
I forgot my way back.
Just Passing Through
Where was I?
((…))
Oh yeah, I was telling you when I first noticed I was changing.
I woke up Saturday morning feeling exhausted. The room spun. Throbbing pain crept across my forehead. I looked down at my hands and saw lights.
What — ?
((??))
Sparkling lights. Not fluorescent or 60 watt or halogen. I’m talking about infinite points of brightness in the brown flesh of my hands. In and on them.
If that wasn’t bad enough my nicely manicured fingernails were no longer painted Pleasingly Plum. They had become little oval windows to outer space.
((!!))
I know it sounds strange, but this is what happened.
((…))
Apology accepted. And lay off the fancy titles. I’m not an official representative from Earth. Just call me Janet.
Anyway, no matter which way I turned my fingers all I saw was endless velvet darkness filled with sparkling stars.
((??))
Yes, every single finger. I thought it was those funny lights you see when you close your eyes and press on your eyeballs.
((…))
Oh. I forgot you don’t have eyeballs.
((??))
Uh — yeah. I guess if I had anything like that and did that to them it might be the same. Then I looked down at my feet. They were transparent.
((??))
Like glass, but not shiny. I wiggled my toes. They felt normal but I could see the wood floor through them.
((??))
I did what any normal human would do. I closed my eyes. That didn’t help because I could see through my eyelids.
The lights in my fingers grew into swirling intricate designs up my wrists and around my arms. That’s when I first heard you.
((??))
No. Nothing like now. There was a low rumbling sweet sound in my nose. The words were jumbled. I didn’t know then but it was the interlateral skiagramic time space continuum split that was distorting your words.
((??))
Just something I figured out later, or maybe I overheard you mention it.
((…))
Sure I sound calm now. Back then I decided that standing on my transparent feet and running through my apartment screaming would make me feel better. Except I started to float. I tried to grab something but I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I thought for a moment I had died and this was an afterlife thing, but it didn’t look like anything I’d seen on television.
Did I tell you that I lived in one of those factory buildings that had been converted into apartments?
((…))
Well, when I saw myself approaching the two-foot thick brick wall in my bedroom I knew it was all over. But instead of banging into the wall, my body bubbled through it.
((??))
I was more than surprised. I was shocked. When I came out of the wall I found I had shifted in my body.
((??))
No, that’s not normal for us. Humans see everything from our head. We can lose arms and legs and live, but off with our head and that’s the end. One second I was in my left hand, the next in my right thigh. Every now and then I’d slide into my head and could see the Earth getting smaller and smaller. This doesn’t happen to the everyday blood-sweat-and-tears human body.
((??))
I don’t mean that literally. We’re made of a lot more than that. It’s just a saying. You’ve got to loosen up.
( ( … ) )
Hey, stop that! I don’t mean loosen your physical dimensions. Pull yourself together.
I wanted to cry or clench my fist or anything except float around in my body as it floated around in space with strange voices drifting in and out of my nose.
((…))
Thanks for understanding. Loss is a universal thing.
I don’t know how long I floated around. Every now and then I’d end up in my head and could look around. I don’t know the constellations so I couldn’t place myself. I couldn’t see Earth anymore.
Then I bumped into you. That’s when your voices came in loud and clear.
((??))
Well, I’d get out of your way if I could but we seem to be stuck together.
((…))
I don’t think moving towards me is a good idea. Wait…
((O…h….!!!))
((wh!e!r!e…w?a?s?…I…!?))
Fire/Fight
Consumed, reduced to ashes,
beautiful grey
light as angel wings.
Another red light brings
the rush of strong bodies
armored in resistance.
Rushing through an ambitious life
armored in waiting dreams
the fire must be extinguished.
Reduced to light, white ashes
untouched angel light
wishes carried in silent waiting.
When will the heroes arrive
to stop the flames
the burning, the waiting?
When will the silent scream end
the scent of burning dreams
dying under the rush of water?
The Box
“How can you stay so calm?” Sharon asked, standing over Claire. “If my husband told me he’d gambled three months of rent away and we had to move, I’d kill him.”
Claire leaned back in the chair and ran her hand through her short salt and pepper hair.
“We’ve had to move before, but this time he didn’t tell me he was going to use our rent money. He’s always told me before. I’ve never stopped him from gambling.”
“Maybe you should have,” Sharon said, refilling their coffee cups.
“You don’t understand. I knew how he was when I married him thirty years ago. Gambling seemed a small price to pay to be with him. He makes me feel like I’m everything, like I’m special.”
“But it doesn’t last,” Sharon said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “How many times have you told me he disappears for days into a card game, and then comes home angry, owing more money than before?”
“Sometimes he wins,” Claire said. “He’s just had so much bad luck since he lost his job six months ago.”
“Some people make their own bad luck. Thank goodness your three children are grown and out of the house. They don’t have to go through this anymore. Listen, maybe we can lend you some money and you could stay.”
“No, Ron wouldn’t let us take money from you.”
“Too much pride.” Sharon said the words as if they were a curse.
“Please, Sharon “
“I’m sorry. It’s just that nobody listens to me like you do. You know what I mean even when I can’t explain. I’m going to miss you.” She threw her arms around Claire and started to cry.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Claire whispered, gently patting Sharon’s back. Tears filled her eyes. Sharon cried with her whole body, like a child.
After a few minutes Claire pulled away and stood at the sink with her back to Sharon. She felt more comfortable in Sharon’s kitchen than in her own. Everything, from the white lace window curtains that allowed sunlight to f
ill the room to the butcher block counters and round oak table, relaxed Claire. Each item had been chosen with care. Claire’s home was filled with a collage of second hand furniture.
“Harry will be sorry to see you leave,” Sharon said. “I don’t talk him to death since we’ve been friends. There aren’t many who could put up with me as much as you do.”
“You aren’t so hard to be around.” Claire turned around to face Sharon. “It’s not as though we’re leaving the country. When we get settled I’ll call you.”
“It’s not the same as having you right down the street. I wish we could all get together for dinner before you leave, but I know Ron doesn’t like us.” Claire opened her mouth to protest but Sharon waved her hand. “I’ve known for a long time. All the excuses you’ve given for not coming to our house for dinner were just to protect our feelings.”
“I’m sorry, Sharon.”
“Don’t apologize for him. I hate the walls he builds around you. He doesn’t want you to have friends or work or do anything, just wait for him.”
“It’s not all like that, he — “
“I know I know. He can be charming. I’ve seen him turn on that light when I was at your house. But it’s not worth the price. You have your own light.”
Claire shook her head slowly. “I wish things were as simple as you see them.”
“I wish they were, too. When are you moving?”
“We have to be out by the end of this week. Ron’s brother is letting us store our furniture in his garage. We’ll stay in a hotel until we find an apartment. I’d better get back. Ron went to get some boxes so we can start packing today.” Claire walked to the kitchen door.
“Wait a minute.” Sharon went into one of the cabinets. She stuffed some twenties and several singles into Claire’s hand. “Don’t say anything. Just keep this for yourself.”
Claire hugged her and left, knowing they would exchange Christmas cards and fewer and fewer phone calls until time stretched between them, fading their friendship. She knew because it had happened too many times before.
School children were on their way home for lunch as Claire walked down the street.
She loved this neighborhood. It was safe and comfortable, nothing like the rough, broken-down neighborhoods they had lived in before. This was the kind of neighborhood she had always dreamed of living in.
…through sickness and through health…
In the bright sunshine everything looked whitewashed, except little islands of shaded coolness under the trees. The heat coming off the sidewalk between the trees made it hard for her to breathe through the tears she fought to keep in.
When Ron came home, Claire was sitting in the dining room going through the box of papers and photos she had collected over their life together.
Two high school diplomas in black binders were piled on top of a folder of papers. Jenny’s spelling bee award, Matt’s honor society award and their report cards from all the schools they had attended over the years. A new school every couple of years as they moved from one apartment to another.
…do you take this man…
They were happy in the beginning. She hadn’t noticed how unhappy their three children seemed in the later pictures with him. Not that it showed on their faces, but there was sadness in their eyes. Sadness she hadn’t been aware of before today.
“I don’t think there’s room in the hotel for that box,” he said, sitting at the table. “Besides, I don’t know why you spend so much time with those old pictures.”
“There are a lot of memories in here,” she said without looking up.
“Memories don’t pay the bills.” He lit a cigarette.
“Memories are all I have,” she said abruptly, looking at him. When did he get all that gray hair? Had it been so long since she had looked at him, really looked at him? She thought only she had aged. She didn’t remember his beer belly and double chin this morning.
“You’re still mad I didn’t tell you about the rent money? It wouldn’t have made a difference, the money’s gone now.” He stood suddenly, almost knocking over his chair.
“It makes a difference to me. I’ve never stopped you when you wanted to gamble,” she said.
“I thought I’d surprise you.” Ron raised his voice. “Money’s been so tight since I lost my job I didn’t want you to worry. I was thinking about you!” He turned and left the room.
He slammed the front door shut each time he went to the car to get the moving boxes and throw them on the living room floor.
She wanted to yell at him, tell him he was wrong, that there was no excuse he could use to make it right, but she couldn’t move. Fear of the sudden anger building inside Claire held her in the chair. Ron was the one that yelled and threw things when he got mad. Not Claire.
She pushed the anger away, clenching her fist to try to ignore the small seed of emptiness in her stomach that replaced the anger.
…do you take this…
The front door slammed one last time as he jumped into the car and drove away. Only after Ron was gone could Claire move from the table.
She spent the afternoon carefully packing what they would need at the hotel. Ron didn’t come home until late. She reheated his dinner. He ate alone while she continued to pack.
They went through the next three days packing and sleeping without saying much to each other. She tried to ignore the emptiness. Claire was surprised each morning to find it still there, a little bigger than the day before. Each day she ate less and less as the emptiness filled her stomach.
…do you…
She walked through the house that last day, checking closets and corners to make sure nothing had been left behind. The emptiness didn’t care. It had grown into her throat, a thin, hair-like wire she couldn’t cough out. It whispered when she tried to sleep. So she slept less.
Ron moved the last box out to the car. No matter what Ron said she insisted on taking that last box with them.
“Are you ready to go?” he called impatiently from the driveway.
“Yes, I’m coming,” she said in a tired voice.
…take this…
The setting sun threw a red blanket of light across the rooftops as they drove down the street one last time.
“I think we should sell some of the furniture,” he said. “We don’t need all that stuff now that the kids are gone.”
“Sure.” She laid her head back and closed her eyes until they stopped in front of the Coronet Hotel.
The hotel was on a deserted street lined with old office buildings. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors and crumbling art deco fixtures in the lobby were faded reminders of the hotel’s prosperous past. The dim lights and stale smell made Claire’s stomach turn. She wanted to run back into the street.
They took the narrow elevator to the fifth floor. Ron had brought the suitcases to their room that afternoon. He placed her box on the dresser that ran almost the width of the small room. There was just enough space for the bed and two small nightstands.
“We’re not supposed to have food here, but I bought some stuff to snack on,” he said. “It’s in a shopping bag in the closet.”
“I see,” she said, after looking in the small closet. “Do you want something to eat now?”
“No, I have to go out. I’m going to see if I can make some extra money tonight. I probably won’t get back until late.”
“Okay,” she said. Claire wanted to beg him not to leave her in this dingy little room, but knew he would go no matter what she said. He always did.
Ron dropped the extra set of keys on the bed and left.
…we are gathered here…
Claire sat on the edge of the bed. The sound of people talking, laughing and arguing drifted through thin walls.
She moved the box on the bed and started going through it again. The dim ceiling light made everything in the box look cheap and faded. Claire held each piece of paper, each ribbon, trying to remember the joy on their face when they brought each item ho
me.
Scott, her oldest son, had few papers in the box. He joined the Navy as soon as they would take him. Despite all the fighting between him and his father that was the one time they had agreed. She had wanted Scott to finish high school.
“He’s always in trouble. He’d get thrown out of school for good one day. At least he’ll be a man when the Navy finishes with him,” Ron had said.
Matt left home as soon as he finished high school. He sent an occasional postcard from Los Angeles, where he worked odd jobs.
Only Jenny’s leaving really upset Ron. She was the youngest and the only girl. There had been less fighting between them. Their final fight came when she told him that she had found a job and was going to share an apartment with two girls. The more he yelled the less she said, until finally he stomped out of the house. Jenny left the next day.
Ron blamed Claire. She should have more control over her children, he said. She had pretended to be surprised about the whole thing, though Jenny had told her two weeks earlier. Claire had asked her to wait until the summer was over, but Jenny told her that she couldn’t stand to be in the same house with him any longer, live by rules that didn’t allow her to have a social life, put up with his verbal abuse.
…to unite this man and woman…
Claire had tried to comfort them with stories of how strict her father had been, but they had not inherited her understanding. She didn’t tell them about her drunken father’s raving and physical abuse; her mother’s endless patience. They wouldn’t have understood.
The emptiness spread to her arms and legs. Each piece of paper became harder and harder to hold.
At the bottom of the box were five picture albums. Pictures of her pregnant for the first time, Scott on his first bike, Matt’s first birthday party. There had been happier times in the beginning. As the years went by there were pictures of unsmiling children in drab surroundings. In the few pictures of Ron and the children together, he stood in the background like a prison guard. There were even fewer pictures of Claire and him together.
She couldn’t open the last picture album.
“Why?” she asked out loud. The emptiness pierced her heart and sent chills through her arms and legs.
…speak now…
A vision of the rest of her life uncoiled in her mind. She saw the emptiness continuing to feed on her day after day. It would consume her from the inside until nothing was left except a dry shell.
How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9) Page 6
