by Scot McAtee
TLHS
The Warm Sands of Time
Micah Harker
After walking along the beach all day I’d finally found something worth looking for. A bottle had washed up on shore, but it wasn’t just any bottle. It hadn’t been opened and there was something inside. It was getting late and I was so excited that I’d found something I didn’t even show my parents, who’d been sitting in their fold out lawn chairs all day enjoying many drinks with strange names.
I hurried and started to pull the cork off. When I finally got it off with a large POP! I took a look inside. It appeared to have a small, thin folded piece of paper slipped into it. I flipped the dark green glass bottle upside down and lightly pulled on the paper with my fingertips. It was pretty snug but eventually came out.
After unfolding the old, musty yellow piece of paper I began to read it. In beautiful cursive handwriting and black ink was written:
Dear Micah,
You’re probably pretty surprised to find that this letter, which you found on a beach in Florida while on vacation, is actually written to you. How do I know you? How is this possible? How’d I know you’d find it? All these questions flowing through your mind, and yet none have been answered. The truth is I knew you’d find it. I also know more about you than you know about yourself. That’s mainly because I’m you. Yes, I am Micah Louis Harker. Born on June 22, 1999 in Monticello, IN. My favorite color is green and I love Playstation and football. I sent this to give you some advice and tell you that no matter what happens you need to keep your head up. When the world wants nothing to do with you and all you have to fall back on is family and false hope. Keep hoping. Good things will come. Never give up on yourself, even if you die trying, and If you die trying to fulfill your dreams then it was a life well lived. You will find out who your real friends are and when you do trust in them and your family to guide you on your journey through life. There is a lot of bad in this world, but remember (and this may sound a bit cliché) it’s the little things that count. Oh and don’t forget to spend time with your dog, you will miss him.
-Sincerely
You
After reading the letter I folded the paper and put it back in the bottle. Then, I sat there on the sandy shore of the Gulf and watched as the day faded away and the stars lit up to illuminate the night sky. A long silence hung in the air and not thought crossed my mind for a few hours. That is, until my parents came yelling for me.
As we were walking back to the car my dad asked “What are you doing with a glass bottle? You shouldn’t pick up trash from the beach unless you’re throwing it away.”
“It’s a souvenir.” I said, “Besides, it’s important.”
“Why’s that?” he replied with a chuckle.
“Well… I think I might give to somebody someday.”
Grass so green
By Faith Dickson
Grass so green
People so mean
Sky so blue
People treated like a tool
Leaves so gold
Or so I’m told
From my window I see
All the things so far from me
Maybe one day I’ll escape
No longer treated like an ape
My internal prison
Soon I’ll be risen
And my heart won’t hold me
Free as a bird I’ll be
Town of imagination
by Faith Dickson
I lie somewhere between reality and imagination
I stand at my own train station
There’s no one around
For this is a silent town
My decision will choose my fate
Not which country or state
But what state of mind I choose
Whether I allow my mind to lose
Left or right forward or back
Maybe my mental skills lack
But my direction is always different from your
Would you like a tour
Of my mind of my brain of the streets I call home
Of this town I rome
Just follow me but beware
My brain may just give you a scare
Dear child
By Faith Dickson
Dear child don’t be afraid
There’s something I have to say
There are no monsters here in this place
That make your heart race
Not one with six eyes
Words filled with lies
Look there
Is that what caused you a scare
It’s just your toy mare
Six eyes
Well that’s just a loaf of rye
So don’t worry go to sleep
Be quiet don’t make a peep
Life’s first moments
by Faith Dickson
So crowded is the earth
It’s been this way since our birth
A million eyes stare back
A different life track
A baby’s born
A family mourns
In all our life we see
All the different things we could be
Mothers crying
People dying
People born
Hearts torn
New happiness found
New happiness passed around
Our life is a gift
A chance to change this rift
Between race, creed, gender, and sexuality
This is our reality
Unexpected Passenger
Bus
Vanessa Ford
If anyone would’ve saw me sitting by the window on the bus that day, they’d make sure to steer clear of my booth. My thick hair was pulled into a lopsided bun while my skin hung off of my jawline, lifeless. My lips were pale, chapped as they always were. My emotionless face resembled that of a corpse’s. Being in the back of the bus, the intimidated people crowded toward the front. I caught several nervous eyes shoot back to catch a glimpse of me, acting as if I was a dangerous villain, aiming to kill them. The truth was the total opposite; I had killed to save them.
There was no reason why the wild eyed boy decided to sit next to me that day, but he dodged down the crowded isle toward me, passing several highly available empty seats. His focus was on nothing but me as he plopped down into my seat, an unwavering smile plastered to his face. I met his ridiculous smile with a glare and scooted closer to the window to try and get more space and soon the boy did the same, making our thighs touch uncomfortably. I sighed deeply and turned my head to the boy. He had the same massive, beautiful smile as before. The kind of smile you couldn’t look away from.
“Hi I’m Dexter. I hate the name Dexter, but my middle name is no better so I stick with Dex. You?” The cartoon-like caramel eyes of the boy, just as mesmerizing as the smile, sliced into my head, searching for my response.
“I- Uh… I’m Jen.”
“Just Jen?”
“Yup.” Dex squinted and nodded, letting the smile turn into tightly pursed lips. He mumbled Jen a couple times under his breath until he seemed satisfied. Pulling a worn out book titled “The Art of Fine Dining”, he smirked and slumped back into the seat, opening up to a page about seasoning meat. My thigh tingled with warmth where the boy’s touched. He was so… so unreal. My mind wrapped around every detail of the boy and his unique vibe, when Dex pulled me out of every sub consciousness I was in.
“So tell me, Just Jen” He slowly flipped the page letting his eyes flash between the words, “Why do you want to die so badly?” At that moment, the noise in my ears seemed to turn into thin air, swooshing around in my numb mind. What did he just say? How does he know… he doesn’t know? He’s just being smart.
“I beg your pardon?” The boy turned a disappointed gaze my way, snapped close the recipe book, and sat up straighter. My hands shook and he shoved the tome back into his bag, snapping it close. The silence between us was violent. He was taking his time on purpose. “
Why did you just ask me that?”
“I see it clearly in your eyes.”
“That’s not possible!” I snapped, suddenly realizing tears filled my eyes. No one could tell how you felt by the way your eyes looked. There was no way.
“Jen it’s okay look-“
“Don’t touch me. Just… just stop looking at me.” A single tear lazily paraded down my cheek and I wiped it off with the back of my hand. No one knew about my thoughts. He has no right to ask me why I hate the life I’m living without knowing what I did. Realizing how idiotic I probably looked with the tears and the whimpers, I turned to the boy again with fire behind my lips. I began to yell at him again with more of a spicy vocabulary but I only managed a few sentences before I broke down into more tears. I really did want to die. Oh my god… I want to die. Wallowing in my self-pity, Dex was soon closer to me and reassuring me with a small back rub. The motion felt nice but I was not to have someone feel bad for me. I wiped my cheek and looked out the bus window. The dry day burned my eyes. I let a shaky breath escape my lips.
“What do you mean you can see it in my eyes? How can some absent minded boy like you who reads from cookbooks of all things know how I feel? And what are you writing?” Dex looked up from the crumpled piece of paper with a pen cap between his teeth. Out of nowhere he winked and shot to his feet, whistling loudly. The piece of paper dangled between his fingers.
“Guys. Guys listen here. This may be the next Geddysburg Address so I’d take those earbuds out dude.” The ‘dude’ pulled out one bud, flashing Dex a choicely finger, who disregarded it with a large, stupid grin. “When I was little I wanted more than anything to be a hotdog stand owner. They seemed so happy everyday when my old man and I bought dogs from them. I had my favorite dog-dealer, Troy, who use to give me a free pickle every day. No matter the weather, his health, or event, Troy always served the hotdogs with a smile;”
“Yo sit down-“
“I’m not finished!” Dex flashed the perpetrator a deathly stare that even made me shiver. What was he getting at? “Anyway, one day me and my pops went to Troy after a good long walk. I was about twenty feet away from his stand when I saw his big smile fade from his face chased away by a revolver. I saw the happiest man on earth die that day. Now lady, stop crying this is no sob story. My point-“
“Is this guy serious?”
“MY POINT. My point is that the biggest, brightest smiles are the ones that fade the fastest. The most valuable lives are the ones put at stake. And while you guys are so quick to make assumptions about Jen here, wave Jen.”
Oh my god.
“I know for a fact she had the brightest smile at one time.” With that, Dex slumped back into his seat staring down at his hands. Speechless, I squinted at my own hands, trying to find the words to say. Who was this guy? The deafening quiet ate the words out of my throat. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Dex grabbed my arm finally breaking the ice.
“I never meant to freak you out so much… I’ve just… I needed to make sure. And don’t worry about everyone being able to tell about your… death wishes.” At this Dex’s voice caught and tears lined the bottom of his eyes. “They don’t see it.”
“What don’t they see Dex?” We both were crying now; awkwardly holding each other just so that our breaths warmed each other’s faces.
“There’s this light behind all of our eyes, you see, that only turns on when all the other lights burn out. Our eyes are the last thing to go before it finally gives out. My light, I believe, is more of a twinkle than anything else. You see, my candle is burning at both ends.”
“Dex… You’re suicidal?” The olive skinned smirked over the tears and blew out a breath.
“Depressingly so. You have such lovely hair.” My hands quickly ran to my head where I felt the pathetic bun that once held in place had been defeated by the weight of my now free hair. I cursed under my breath and tucked it behind my ears. Was he changing the subject? I looked at the boy again, and felt undeniable empathy. He deserved to be happy. Like the men I fought beside deserved to be alive. Like how I should have been killed instead. Feeling depression start to cloud my mind again, I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. I didn’t deserve to be alive. My thoughts were swarmed by the arrival of a foreign weight on my lap. I looked down to see the crumbled piece of paper Dex scribbled on. Looking up at him, he nodded toward the paper enthusiastically. I unfolded it with shaky hands and read the worlds an ugly place, but you’re so beautiful to me.
“Now Just Jen, I believe you owe me an explanation to your troubled way of thinking.” Yet again, I broke down, this time right into Dex’s shoulder. I told him how I had joined the US Army at 18 and went on four tours until I landed in Iraq. How I had the same team since I started boot camp and they were my family. I told Dex how my team was reported to carry out a simple mission to confiscate a warehouse in a small town. On our way there, I sprung my ankle and my captain told me to turn back, and that the task would be easy enough with just the seven of them. On my way back, I heard gunshots. No return fire. My team had been surrounded and attacked. The shooters came from their only blind spot, the spot I stand at. My the time I had spilled my story on Dex, night had fallen on the vacant bus and Dex’s shirt clung to his skin, wet with tears. At the close of it all, we stayed there clinging to each other Dex mumbling something about is wasn’t my fault and how no one could’ve predicted that, his lips pressed to the top of my head. We would’ve stayed there forvever, getting high off eachothers closeness, if a sudden change in the air didn’t make Dex suddenly become alert. I pulled myself away from him feeling the sudden tension in his form. His large eyes were fixed on the window for a while until a massive smile overtook his lips. Pointing outside, Dex sniffled slightly and let out a shaky chuckle.
“That’s the alley I sat in when I put a gun in my mouth.”
“What?” The change of atmosphere chilled me and I swiveled around to see a dank space between a café and a bookstore. I turned back to Dex expecting to see him crying yet again but he seemed almost… content.
“I liked the smell of the air there. It sounds weird… but I wanted the last thing I smelled to be the scent of over-flavored coffee and New York’s Best Sellers.” The boy’s face twisted, searching for the scents he loved. I still couldn’t see this jubilant boy swallowing a bullet. And why. How?
“Dex, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you-“ My sentence was cut off by the buzzing off a phone. Dex winced and slowly grabbed an outdated BlackBerry from his back pocket. He answered the phone with a “Hm?” and then slowly nodded silently until he hit the exit key. He mouthed the word sorry to me and grabbed the backpack from the floor. He began scooping up his belongings and shoved them into his bag, almost hurriedly. He was leaving, This boy was leaving me after all we’d been through. I grabbed his arm with a strong grip and his eyes shot to me. He was shaking. I still needed answers.
“Dex. Why did you want to kill yourself. Please.” Nodding, he slowly lowered back into his seat and leaned his head back into his seat.
“Jen. I’m going to be a dad. When I got the news I was 17. I had met the girl at a party, she was drunk and I took advantage of that. I was a stupid teenager, that’s what we did. But when I got the news, she was asking me about financial support and good names to use. I wasn’t ready for that commitment! I was still a kid! I was selfish and tried to take the temporary feelings away. Jen, I’m going to be a dad! My wife… My wife she’s in labor. I’m so sorry… Oh my god I’m going to be a daddy!” And I swear in that moment, all gravity was lost with the pure excitement in the boy’s face. The smile still more beautiful than ever before. I smiled back and pushed him toward the aisle. He grabbed his bag and ran down the bus aisle, nearly tripping over his own feet. At the bus driver, he unfolded a few bucks into his hand, and then hugged the driver completely. The silly smiling boy seemed more of a man than anything else as he pushed his way through the busy NYC sidewalk, hug
ging people and singing nursery rhymes as he faded in the distance. Tears fell down my cheeks and I let them trail to my neck. This type of crying was accepted. I was going to miss him.
“You finally getting off too, missy?” The bus driver looked at me through the mirror and I nodded tiredly. I swung my legs to the aisle and suddenly another crumbled paper was found on my lap. That boy. I unwrapped it tenderly, as if it was my last piece of evidence that Dexter was a real person was gazed at the not sprawled out inside of it. Never let them take the light behind your eyes. A smile escaped my lips. I promise Dex. I promise.
