Our public officials point fingers at the defense group and they point fingers at the science division and they point fingers at the governor. The matrix and mastermind are never revealed. We can only see the divisions and chaos. Fog and fun-house mirrors.
And the public, for the most part, doesn't point fingers anymore. They're too eager to soak up the baby blue sky, the immaculate sun, a normal existence. They have a new grasp on life now that this chapter has ended and they plan new futures. A few push for reform and indictments, but those are drab concepts drowned out by the thirst and hunger for normality. How easily we are led astray when we only focus on ourselves and the short term. We must find a way to remember, now and in the future, to hold us accountable.
Today all the shows were cancelled so the state could broadcast a special event. I turned the TV on to view the hologram and I saw clones standing in many lines. A code was shouted overhead by the military, loud and stern to brace them all in place. Robo-matrons stood in the corners as back up. A masked official stood at the head of each line with a gun and they went down the lines shooting each clone in the temple. Slowly and surely. It was the government's way of showing, of proving that they were being disposed of. But somehow even that seemed to be for show. Somehow.
And I saw a line of Jamie's. Three or four years old, waiting quietly without fussing. How I wanted to squeeze those chubby cheeks and look into those blue eyes one last time. I would like to know if they were like my Jamie's. If they had the same oceanic depth.
The official had to bend down. I saw the gun slip in his or her hands the first time. And Jamie waited, held so still, didn't know what to expect. As if he didn't know that violence inhabited the gun. And it went off with a startling pop. The little ones didn't even flinch.
AMARINTHINE
I've begun to run again. Force immense gales of wind through my lungs as I rediscover the naked city and its old buildings, their profiles standing dignified, aged and harrowed. It's as if a cover has been removed and we rediscover the archaeological ruins of our own city. I'm glad everything is now in the open, the sun disinfects, cooks the truth for well-done presentation.
No one knows it was us. Books or lessons will never be written about this group. Jamie and Jimmie, the ink makers, Dr. M, raven, dead body driver, produce driver, Dove, Friend, Franken, the printers, the store owners, the man with yellow shoes. There will be no glory, pomp or press. How many others were like us throughout the past? We'll be forgotten as time moves forward, yet hopefully we will have seeded in those around us with a memory of the truth. Of discovery and conscience. And perhaps one day, in the future, it will sprout into one action taken at the right time. One time for each of us. Many times for all of us.
Yesterday as I ran, I thought of Jamie and his lightness. The light load he carried through life, barely anything. He only carried himself, no baggage or pretense, no arrogance or angst, and I thought I should be more like that. That I would like this. That I could be like that now if I worked on it. Now is an opportune time.
And today as I run I think of the future. What do I want to do? What can I do to build on my talents in a constructive way? What kind of life do I want and what can I offer? How can I get there? Every step and decision mean something, even the small ones. Always. It's been a while since I've allowed myself to even consider these things. I embrace this new energy and never want to let go. My heart explodes open, the one closed tight in a fist for so long. The breezy, clean wind, iridescent sun, the hint of water in the air. It all flutters around me as I run. I am a colorful, waving flag – standing tall, quietly proud and free. A free beast.
I run past a corner when someone grabs me from behind. I turn and see a man, a ninja dressed in black. I can only see his startlingly cold, blue-grey eyes and white skin that has never seen the sun. I squirm violently to get away, but my mouth is covered and he's two times my size. He corals me into a dark alley, takes out his gun and aims it at my temple.
He hisses with acid, you little shit. We should've shot you right away.
In my shock, I think of how foolish I was to think it was all behind me. That we only won a battle, not the war. That I naively never knew this.
I push myself down in strange, wiggly contortions to slip out of his grip and begin to run towards the sidewalk when I feel a searing point in my back begin to radiate. I fall to the cold, rough asphalt. My bones ache, rattle. A coldness begins to creep from the edges. I crawl towards the sidewalk warmed by sunlight. Almost there when another hot spike hits me. My last drag, my last pull in this world gets me into the sunlight where the heat bleeds into me as my blood pools beneath me. Where the clarity and light bless me into smithereens.
I open my hands.
I give you everything.
I know what I answer to. Courage.
I float towards the white, amarinthine corona. The flickering flames of everyone and every moment I've ever loved. In this short life. And it is indescribable. The turning into light. I am speechless and thoughtless, full of space. In awe of its utter beauty, its utterly everything.
AUTHOR’S NOTE & SELF REFLECTION / BOOKCLUB QUESTIONS ARE AVAILABLE ON THE NEXT FEW PAGES.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Spoiler alert! The message below discusses broad themes that allude to prominent events in the novel.
Thanks so much for reading my book!
I sincerely hope you enjoyed experiencing Eloisa’s journey, one which I felt a yearning to create. It all began with a thought about a sensitive, young woman who wanted to find her voice, and it grew into a story about creating a life out of what’s been given to you, no matter how good or bad.
I wanted to explore the themes of how the poor and wealthy have different perspectives, what it means to become a woman, trauma and how to move beyond it, and feeling left behind when everyone’s moved on. I also wanted to explore the role of pollution in the future – not just its physical effects, but also its corrosive emotional wounds.
If you have time, could you please write a review of this book on Amazon? Reviews help independent writers a great deal by improving visibility and providing testimonials so others can decide if the book is worth their time.
Thank you!
-Suzanne
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SELF REFLECTION / BOOKCLUB QUESTIONS
Spoiler alert! The questions below allude to prominent events in the novel.
In FREE BEAST, the government manipulates media and journalism. Do you think our government influences or manipulates media and journalism?
Jamie comes from a wealthy, prominent family and Eloisa’s family is of poor means. What are some things he will never understand about those in Eloisa’s place in society? And what are some things she will never understand about those with Jamie’s background?
Eloisa is in her mid-twenties and wonders when she’ll feel like a woman instead of a girl. She wonders what actually makes a woman. Is it a purely physical thing after one has passed puberty? Or is it a mental or spiritual thing? Or is it a matter of having the trappings that society deems “grown up”? In your words, what does it mean to be a woman?
The mysterious Dr. M’s intentions are unreadable, even for someone as intuitive as Eloisa. How do you think he sees Eloisa?
Sometimes life throws you into situations not of your asking. If you were to uncover illegal, horrifying wrongdoings, how much would you risk to expose it? There are no right or wrong answers, just something to think about.
Eloisa regrets that her mother never shared the wisdom in the notebook with her. She wonders why and sees her mother as a person with strengths and flaws, not just a mother. Have you experienced this with your parents? What did you learn about them?
Out of all the lessons in the notebook, which do you agree with and which do you disagree with? Which ones are easiest for you? And which ones are most difficult?
Eloisa realizes that she relies on those in her life to fill voids. She looks to Dr. M as a sort of father figure, and she looks to Jamie to help relieve her melancholy. Have you ever done this or do you currently look to others to fill voids? And how appropriate or inappropriate is it to do this?
What is the role of torture in this story? Have you ever felt trapped, dominated and hopeless in your life? If yes, what was the situation and how did you get out of it?
In the safe house, Eloisa attempts to heal after undergoing a traumatic time. How does she do this? What have you personally done to heal after trauma?
Eloisa uses her innate intuition to help her cope and get a sense of others. How strong is your intuition? How can you make it stronger?
Would you have gone back to the city to print and circulate the flyers? Or would you have tried to build a new life in the new state? There are no right or wrong answers, just something to think about.
Thinking about your life and your choices, what or who do you answer to?
What did you like about this novel? What did you not like?
Free Beast Page 23
