Archive for ‘My Short Stories’

August 17th, 2011

They’ve Gone- A Short Story by Talia Phillips

by admin

 

1st shitty draft.
UPDATE (because you care):
Just had a friend edit it (Thanks Chase!) and it was amazing. I thought it would be scary or it would hurt my feelings (even though I said it wouldn’t), but it was actually really exciting and I liked it. Yay! Now I have to get started on turning this into something worth reading…

She awoke with a gasp to the thundering sound of a knock at the front door. As she approached the door two things crossed her mind. First off, the person knocking was clearly an idiot, it was a hard door, that kind of banging was sure to leave a bruise, besides, there was a glowing door bell right there off to the side. The second thought was more profound; she knew deep inside, call it women’s intuition, if she opened the door, nothing would ever be the same again. She desperately didn’t want that door to open. Not now, not ever again.

 

She stood, knees weak, threatening to drop her to the floor like a teeter-totter with no one left to hold her up on the other side. She looked around the dimly lit front room. Her eyes fell on the couch she and Sam loved to cuddle on, even after all these years. The stairs that little feet were always running too fast on and the BMX bike parked in the front hall, tracking in mud even though she has warned about that time and time again.

 

In her bones she already knew what they were here to tell her. All she had to do was look at her watch. Until that moment she hadn’t noticed the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the walls of her sitting room. That was a dead giveaway, that and the empty void where they used to lay deep inside of her. She felt the scream but denied with every fiber of her being, she’s often had nightmares like this, that is what this was, just a dream.

 

Once she approached the freshly painted yellow door, she turned the knob but didn’t pull it open right away. She took a deep breath, the door opened, almost of it’s own accord, she felt the whoosh of air from behind her as all she held dear flew out, up and away into the ether where she could not follow.

 

There were words coming towards her from a man in uniform, but they didn’t mean anything. All that mattered she watched swirl away. She stumbled, reached out, tried to call out to it, to beg it to stop, come back, please, just not yet, don’t go. But like trying to grasp a handful of water at the bottom of a pool it was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Then silence. Sweet, soothing, shrieking silence.

 

She was not aware of falling but she must have since she was no longer on her feet. The ground was soft under her head. Her body lay on the hard concrete of the walkway but her head was cushioned by the new lush sod that Sam had just put down last weekend. Just imagine, she thought, if she had fallen just a few inches shorter she could had hit her head and she would be gone too. Just imagine. She closed her eyes and tried to will it so.

 

The world looked different from this angle, would it ever look the same again? Would it always be off center like this? Did she even really care?

 

She had been staring through the gap between the policeman’s legs, past where his heavy boots dug into the soft fresh grass that grew so strong and emerald green. She wanted to scream at him to get off of her Sam’s lovely lawn. Instead she simply blinked.

 

Through this triangular space in time she saw Rade come running across the street through the cold, pelting rain. She saw the water bouncing off of his skin and soaking into his clothing. When did it start to rain? She felt it now, her own tank top clinging to her, but she didn’t feel the cold.

 

He hadn’t taken the time to put a jacket on, all he wore was a thin undershirt and some ratty old jeans, the ones he had found at that charity thrift store he liked so much. She remembered being with him when he bought them, she liked to tease him for buying jeans that already had holes in them. Told him that was how lazy he was, he couldn’t even be bothered to make his own holes.

***

Looking out his front window, he pulled back the yellow curtains Dani had helped him pick out at another of the many thrift stores he was always forcing her into. Since the window was small, she said, the bright, sunny color would help to brighten up the room even on a cloudy day. That was her in a nutshell, always looking for the happy in each day. Maybe that was why he loved her so much, why she and hers had so quickly became family to him.

 

Through these same thin sheets of fabric he had noticed the same flashing lights she had only moments before. He expected the neighborhood hooligans had knocked over some mailboxes again, but when he looked out he saw her in a wet crumpled heap on the ground with two uniforms, one man and one woman, looking at each other at a loss for what to do next.

 

Flying out the door he ran to her, faster than any of the horses his family used to raise back home. Maybe he had missed his calling, at this speed all those Nigerians had nothing on him. As he reached her it was her lack of expression that scared him the most.

 

She watched him as he sped towards her. It occurred to her that he was so graceful, why hadn’t she noticed that before, he was like a gazelle being chased by a hungry lion. On any other day the comparison would have made her giggle. She knew he was moving fast and the distance wasn’t a long one but it was as if everything was moving through deep, sucking quicksand. There was no solid ground left for her to stand on. Everything was forever shifting, in and out of focus, colors were marbling and changing like a cheap kaleidoscope from a county fair.

 

She felt scattered as if she was here laying on the soft, wet green grass and yet she wasn’t. She thought maybe it was what an old love letter, worn and frayed from so many stolen peeks being shredded into a million pieces and thrown into the midst of a deep, dark, wet storm. That is what her body felt like at that very moment. She was gone, torn asunder, spread throughout a world she no longer recognized, one that no longer held them. She might never find herself there, wherever it was they were, she thought, and that thought was what scared her the most, the one that finally brought one angry, hot tear to the surface.

 

She felt it slide down her cheek like a red hot poker being dragged across her delicate skin. She felt as it went from sizzling to icy as it began it’s final ascent from the curves of her cheek to the soft, prickly grass that Sam has so lovingly, and painstakingly, planted for no reason other than he knew how much she loved to look out the window and see bright green grass. So alive. So gone. Forever.

 

Those who saw her laying there may have mistaken her condition as some kind of catatonia, they would be wrong. She didn’t move a muscle, it didn’t even seem as thought she was blinking and her breathing was slow and shallow. Her mind though was alive. More than ever and she wished it would just fucking stop. It had moved through a million different phases before Rade even got to her.

 

Dani felt as though she had been lying there for at least a year but in reality it was only for a few moments. How can so many things flitter their way through a mind in so little a time? How can life change so quickly? In just one simple second, one choice, stop, turn, don’t turn, keep going, stop go back. Come back. Come back. Please come back.

 

Then there was Rade. She supposed it would be his turn to be the rock. That is what friends were for right? “What is it? What’s happened? Dani, baby, are you okay?” She wasn’t able to find her voice. It had run and hid in some small dark corner of her body at just the thought of ever having to say what had happened out loud. But she didn’t need to speak for Rade to get it. He could read it in her eyes. He had always been able to tell what she was thinking, even before she knew it sometimes. Or at least that’s how it felt to her. It was a little creepy sometimes, but she loved it anyway.

 

As he looked past the fractured figure that was his best friend he caught the eye of the policeman closest to them and nodded his head to a indicate they speak a few feet away, he didn’t want to go far from her. They spoke in low voices and even while she tried her best not to hear what they were saying she could feel it. Again. And again.

 

She knew that she would have only a brief few seconds each morning before she opened her eyes, while she still had time to try and convince herself it was all just a bad dream before this feeling would settle into her consciousness again. She would feel it every time she lay down with her head to the pillow at night. The first thought and the last, for all time. Dani had a feeling once all the whispering and pointing was done with, months from now it would only be worse. The silence would be that much louder, that much emptier.

 

As he listened to the news the man in uniform was telling him, it was almost impossible to accept. He could never have imagined something like this. It just wasn’t the kind of thing that happened to real people, it was what you expect to read in a heart wringing book or in a shattering TV movie. The type that would leave you with sad thoughts following you like a dark puppy cloud for days before they would fade away, dissipated by the chore of everyday life. But this. This was real. This would stay real.

 

He wished he could simply lay by her on the ground and stay there forever, had just lost a family too, but he knew that it was his turn to be there for her. To be her rock as she had for him so many times in the past.

 

As he scooped a limp and dripping Dani up into his arms he noticed the policeman seemed to be enjoying the view of her wet blouse clinging to her curves and if he hadn’t had his arms full that man’s face would have been leaving the property in a much different state that it showed up in. As it was he carried her into the house, closing the door firmly on the police with a kick of his foot.

 

The pair of cops stood there for a moment on the porch in the glow of the streetlights, their hats dripping in front of their faces. The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a card with her name and number on it. She left it wedged in the crack of the door. When they were ready to ask the questions she would be there to answer them the best she could. Thank goodness that poor woman had someone to be there for her, she thought again later that night as she went off shift, rushing home to her own family. She wanted to be able to tuck them into bed that night. Safe and warm, tummies full of whatever it was the babysitter had made them for dinner that night.

 

Rade took her upstairs to her bedroom and laid her down carefully on the comforter. She looked up at him as her head touched down. Her hazel eyes huge and glistening with hot tears she was scared to shed in case they never ceased. Gone. That word. Gone.

 

There was nothing to say to her, he knew words at this point meant nothing to anyone. He slowly lifted her wet and clinging shirt off  her body with little cooperation from her. He peeled off her damp jeans, it wasn’t as if he’d never seen her naked before. Life changes so fast, he remembered the shopping trip they took up the coast just a couple of weekends ago, the trip where she bought the jeans. They had so much fun. That life was gone. God, that word, gone.

 

He was her shopping buddy, she preferred to call it her stylist and she always swore that one day she’d have enough money to be able to pay him for all his clothing advice. It was a running joke, she even had a tally of money owing on the fridge downstairs. It lived nestled in between pictures of the family playing soccer in the park and at school plays.

 

Rade threw her soaking wet clothes in the direction of the white porcelain bathtub but didn’t take the time to make sure they all hit the mark. If they stained the floor it wasn’t the worst thing to happen that day. She needed him here with her, every second and no matter how long she wanted him there, that was where he would be.

 

Reaching down he picked up the chenille throw folded neatly at the bottom of the bed and spread it over her, tucking it in all around her the way he knew she liked it.

 

Then Rade lay down behind her and put his arm around her and held her as she finally let the fear and the tears come and wash over her like a tsunami of salt water. Maybe she would drown and it would all be over she thought, wished really. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, it felt as if all the oxygen on earth had been sucked away in a firestorm of such malevolence that all she could do was close her eyes to it.

 

Maybe if she looked away things would be different on that side. Emptiness surrounds her. The feel of Rade has a measure of safety but, while she can feel him touching her body, his chest pressed against her back, his breath on her neck, his knees bent just right to curve with her own, she feels utterly detached. As if the body he is laying with isn’t really hers, as though she is simply a visitor to this new world. This world of emptiness and grass that will never grow green again.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t be lying on this side of the bed, Rade thought, it was Sam’s side. He just didn’t know what was the right thing to do and what was the wrong. But when he went to shift she grabbed onto the arm laid over her and held tight. He settled back down and just stroked her face as she cried out the names of those who could no longer respond. His heart breaking, he too quietly wept hot tears of despair into her honey blonde hair.

 

June 25th, 2011

Living in a Trailer Park Isn’t Bad It’s HILARIOUS

by admin

It’s possible that one could compare where I live to a circus. There are trailers afterall, but they don’t move; there are animals; there are freaks; there are people, some just happen to fall into all three of the latter categories.

The best thing about living here–it’s only been a few months so far–is that no one here messes with me. So much so that I’m almost positive that my neighbor took out the window that faces me and filled it in with a wall. All because he didn’t want to complain to the property manager about my music and/or my volatile (read loud) relationship wth my teenage son. Why would he do something so extreme you ask? Is it because he is so nice, or maybe he is just a total pussy? Could be either, but more likely it’s because my last name is on the big sign out front. And on the rent checks he hands over each month.

I don’t own this hole or anything, at least not until my mom kicks the bucket anyway, but it is a family business with one of my uncles being that property manager I referenced a bit ago. I’ve actually heard the denizens of this armpit gossiping about me, calling me “that Phillips girl” in a rather snarky tone if I do say so myself. I wasn’t offended or anything, it was actually pretty hilarious since they were doing it right in front of my trailer and my window was wide open about a foot away from them. Some people. Jeez, no wonder they live here, they never stood a chance out there in the real world where not everything smells like skunks, cat piss and my neighbor.

I don’t want to give you the impression that I am a bad person to live around or anything, I’m really not. At least not intentionally. I always smile and wave at my creepy Stephen-King-Gunslinger-40-years-after-he’s-dead neighbor and I never make fun of the lady who spends two hours each day watering the road in front of our trailers. Well, not to her face anyway. Sure my taste in music may be questionable, but I guarantee that if those around me could afford a stereo I’d hate their music as much as they hate mine.

All in all I think I like it here, one thing I can say, it’s never boring.

October 8th, 2009

Learning Can Be Downright Painful: The Bosnian War

by admin

August 1, 2008

I remember hearing about the war in bosnia back in, oh, about 1992 I guess it was. it wasn’t that they taught it in school or that I was particularly new savvy, the reason it caught my attention was that I was daring a Croatian boy at the time and I fancied myself in love with him.

Knowing what I know now, I wish I had paid more attention back then.

The thing that got me interested in the subject this was was the news of Karadzic’s recent capture. I was so excited to hear that they caught a war criminal who had succeeded in hiding out for over 13 years and I had to learn more about him and what he was accused of doing. I didn’t realize it would change my life.

Turns out that this was one of those subjects that I lost myself in. Obsessive on a good day, I buried myself in stories from the Bosnian war, the players involved and even the politics surrounding it. It was shocking to me that I didn’t hear more about these stories back in the day, the horror was so huge and so real, I still find it amazing that it’s not more well known. How is it that Radovan Karadzic, Ratko Mladic and Naser Oric didn’t become a household name?

The very first thing I looked up was Srebrenica and the massacre that took place there in July of 1995. It was shocking, not surprising per se, I have read a LOT of stories of the evils we can perpetrate against each other, but even with all of that ugly knowledge this managed to all me in brand new ways.

Of course most, if not all of the things I learned that first day centered around the slaughter of Bosniaks at the hands of the brutal and blood thirsty Serbs, or as they call them, Chetniks.

The pictures that accompanied the various articles were enough to make the bile rise up in my throat and again, keep in mind I have seen violence, I have watched videos of innocent captives beheaded by Al Qaeda, but still these images were sickening.

(I feel I need to interject something in my defence here. The reason I watched the terrorist videos was because I figured that if others can experience these painful, horrific events the least I can do is watch them and try to understand as much as possible the hand they were dealt.)

As soon as I began reading up on the plight of the Bosniaks in Srebrenica, I knew I had to write about it. I didn’t want to write a non-fiction book, that has been done to death, no, I wanted to educate people who wouldn’t even deign to open the flap of a non-fiction book. Making the decision to make it a fictional account of these true events was an easy one for me, actually narrowing down the plot was not going to be so easy.

The first incarnation I came up with was born from the stories of the “column.” Reading the stories of survivors brought tears to my eyes and more than one lump to my throat. I couldn’t wrap my head around the cruelty of the Serbs, how they would trick the men into calling to their families hiding in the hills. They convinced them that if they called their sons and fathers, wives and daughters down, and they surrendered they would make sure no harm came to them. Unfortunately, this was an empty promise that they never intended to honor.

As soon as the families showed their faces they were all whisked away to be tortured and executed.

September 27th, 2009

Two Minutes Twenty Seven Seconds (rough 1st draft)

by admin

Two Minutes Twenty Seven Seconds
(rough first draft)

Mirella Juarez didn’t particularly like rain. She never bought into the whole washing things clean concept. All she ever saw once it passed was the mud and how could anyone call that clean?

It was particularly rainy and cold tonight, even for mid September. The wind was strong and carries a scent, a taste that she didn’t recall ever noticing before. She kept thinking about getting home to her babies and how before she went to work she tucked them in their warm cozy beds and left with a kiss on the forehead. She would love to be snuggled into her own bed too for that matter.

Working the night shift was hard. You wouldn’t think that a big warehouse chain would close their doors so late in the night only to open them again so early in the morning. She had always thought it was strange that people do their shopping in the middle of the night, but it paid the bills and her coworkers had become like family over the last 10 years.

The best part of working graveyard was that she got to spend more time with her family each day. By the time the kids came home from school she had slept and always felt ready to make dinner and play with them. Mirella went to work when her boy, her girl and her husband went to sleep so for them, she was always there when they were awake. It was pretty great and while she was generally the last to complain about, well, about anything, tonight she wished she could have gone home earlier.

On the other side of town Riki Ray was thinking pretty much the same thing. It had been a hellish night for emergencies. She just thanked her lucky stars she was only a 911 operator, not a medic. At least she got to stay in where it was warm warm and dry.

Did Riki love her job? Not hardly, but she was good at it. She had a knack for getting people to tell her what she needed to know and she was particularly good at keeping people calm on what was often the worst day of their life. Maybe it was the warm timbre of her voice, or her unflappability. She didn’t know but while it was a depressing job, she felt good about being able to help people as much as she could.

The weather was picking up as each hour passed. The wet slapping of what looked to her like giant water balls falling from the sky and splashing their guts all over the ground was making her nervous. They were beginning to get reports of cars washed off roads, small creeks turned into raging rivers. If it didn’t stop raining soon the whole town might wash away.

For once she was almost glad she didn’t have anyone at home waiting for her. She was having a tough enough time worrying about the callers, never mind having a family to worry about.

Mirella Juarez liked her boss, he was a good, fair man, but he wasn’t going to let anyone leave early, not when there was so much work left to be done. They had inventories to take, stocking of shelves to complete before they opened again.

Finally 4.30am came around and she could punch out. As Mirella stepped out from under the canopy of the sign she was instantly hit in the face with the pelting rain, could it even be called that? It was powerful and vicious with the wind at it’s back she felt like if one of those drops got her in the eye she might lose it. She couldn’t remember being out in anything like this before and though it was a little scary, she didn’t live far away and she knew she would be home in just a few minutes. She would then change, crawl into bed and cuddle up to her husbands back and let his warmth soak into her own cold bones.

Riki Ray hung up the phone after her latest call and her friend Shelly rolled over to her. Hey, have you looked out the windows lately? You know that image of that giant gray cloud with puffed up cheeks blowing wind? The one you saw probably in, like, ten thousand children’s books? That is what it’s like out there. Jesus, I get off soon, I might stay here, the roads are terrible. Yeah Shelly I know, I’ve been taking call too you know.

It’s a good thing this is all now rather than the middle of the day. The phones are going crazy! Can you image if it was in the middle of rush hour? It’d be mayhem, how many people do you think will blame the weather for missing work tomorrow. I would if I thought I could get away with it.

Ha, I guess sleeping with the boss has its down side too, eh Shelly? Shut up, Riki. I was just kidding, I know, I forgive you.

These were the very same streets that Mirella Juarez had driven both to and from work for years, but it may as well be a different planet, everything looked different. Each neighborhood she passed looked wilted and lifeless under the unforgiving rain and wind. Like spinach that had been left out of the crisper too long. Thinking of food, thank goodness I’m almost home she thought, it had been hours since she ate anything. She was tired and couldn’t decide if she wanted to put in the effort it took to make a sandwich, maybe she’d just eat and apple or a banana.

Something changed, air pressure, sound, something. Before she had time to process or get a look at what was going on outside she felt her control of the car spin away and out of her control. She was picked up like a toy car left in the sand when the tide came in.

The brakes didn’t work, water was hitting the vehicle on all sides, sounding like it was trying to tear it apart with invisible hands. This was what white water rafting must be like but without the safety vest. Or an experienced guide for that matter.

The water rushed her through the streets she had known for over 10 years and it took her sailing past nice Mr Cundersten’s blue house and she may as well have been on a waterslide, Mirella Juarez could no nowhere but where the water took her.

Then there was nothing to see, like when driving through a car wash. Moving water was everywhere, in her face, her ears, she felt lost and suddenly cold, it was only then that she realized that the van was no longer running. Before she could finish the thought, she suddenly she came to a complete stop. She thought she might be back behind the elementary school, the one her son attended, but she couldn’t be sure.

If she hadn’t had her seatbelt on she would have been nothing but a scrambled mess of huevos rancheros. With all the whirling and rushing she was not entirely sure where she was and what little she could see out the window was nothing of any help. The van seemed to have gotten wedged into some trees. She didn’t know how far she was off the ground, all she knew was that the vehicle wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, she was stuck and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Her denim handbag had been thrown to the other side of the car. She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached over to grab it. She had to stretch and even then it was just out of reach, she climbed up onto the drivers seat, on her knees she climbed over the middle to get the purse, she needed her phone. As she was stretched over the seats she felt the car shift beneath her. It brought a small cry to her lips and that sound scared her more than anything else. She had never heard anything so desperate never mind make it. Already breath was beginning to catch in her throat as panic clawed at her with sharp talons of fear.

She reached out quick as she could and snatched for the strap of the handbag, she got it. Rummage, rummage, rummage she dug for her phone and like all good women she couldn’t see to find it among the day to day crap that filled her purse to bursting. She felt the car jolt again and decided she didn’t have time for this and dumped everything out into her lap. There it was.

Snapping the cell open Mirella Juarez dialed 911, or tried to. She was shaking so badly that the first time she hit 912, then 811 before finally getting it right. It rang two times and they were the longest rings she’d ever heard. Come on, come on she thought frantically, eyes closed.

She felt the van tip forwards, as though dangling from a cliff over an endless ocean. She scrambled into the back as quickly as she could to try to balance the weight. It was working, for now.

Riki Ray was getting edgy and really wanted to go home. She was off shift in 10 minutes and hopefully this would be the last call she had to take tonight. So many people called about the dumbest things. Things that were not remotely an emergency. One old lady phoned and complained about a leak in her kitchen ceiling and a man called asking if she thought the rain would let up soon, oh and could she please tell him what time it was? She couldn’t wait to take off the headset and go home, even if the weather was crap.

Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?

I am trapped, the water washed me down and back behind some houses, help me plees, I need help.

Can you tell me your name please?

Mirella Juarez, I think I am back behind the school.

The elementary school on Gunderson?

Yes, I think so but I’m not sure. It swept me back behind some houses and I don’t know. There was a beige house. Plees get me help, I really need help.

There’s a yellow house?

Yes, a yellow one.
The wheels are taking me down, there’s so much water, the car is already almost floating.

She spoke so fast and the more upset she got the thicker her accent became. The shriller her words became.

Can you tell me anything else about your location? We have people coming to get you, don’t worry.

It’s going to drown, I’m going to,

We’re not going to let you drown. We will be there for you, I need you to work with me and stay calm. I am going to stay here with you.

Ok, ok. But,

Look out the window, what do you see? Any houses? Cars? I need as much as you can give me, it will make it easier for them to find exactly where you are.

Mirella Juarez was scared in a way she had never experienced in her life, even back when she still lived in Mexico, and she didn’t come from a crime free kind of place. She hated to move much for fear of the shifting van but she craned her neck as much as she could and got a good look out of each of the windows.

No, I don’t see anything. Nothing, just a lot of tree.

Roll down your window, if you can, put the window down and exit the vehicle.

I can’t, my car, I’m in the back. Can I break the window?

Yes, if you can, break the window and exit the vehicle.

My car, my car,

Don’t worry about your car, it doesn’t matter, your life is the only thing that matters. We are going to get you out of there.

But I don’t know what it takes to break it. I can’t, the water, the water, it’s too, too fast, it so fast. My car is turning. Now the wheels is getting up, and I’m going to drown, oh my god oh my god. Oh god. Plees help me quickly.

Voice getting shakier, breath shallower, each ripping at her throat, her mouth dry with fear. Plees help me, plees.

Don’t worry, calm down, we have people there, they are going to get you.

The wheels! The van is turning, the water is so fast. Plees, oh god plees can’t you get them here, I need help, I gonna wash away, plees.

Riki Ray could hear the sobs that Mirella was trying to control and she was in constant communication with the rescuers but they could not find her. It was still dark, the rain was so heavy there was zero visibility. Just being out there they were putting themselves in danger too but Riki was going to help the caller, she had to. She couldn’t lose her, she wouldn’t. Why couldn’t she have gotten off earlier?

Is there a building you could climb on top of?

No, none, maybe one of the houses?

It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe and the steady rush of water against the metal minivan body and glass windows made her feel like she was already drowning, as though she was running out of oxygen.

Please come quick, plees plees help me.

We are right there, I’m here with you, I’m not going to leave you.

The van is turning, oh my god, oh no, it’s going down now, it’s taking me down, it’s gonna drown.

Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me okay? I’m right here. Mirella, listen to me okay?

Oh my god plees help me quickly its taking me down,

Stay on the phone, stay calm I’m going to stay with you.

Plees the door is going, it’s going to drown, the water it’s so fast oh my god…

You are not going to drown, we are right there we are going to save your life I won’t leave you I’ll stay right here, I’m right here.

We are going to save your life. Do you hear me? We are going to be there for you, stay with me okay? Try to grab something up above, a tree anything,

Nothing, there’s nothing,

Okay if you see anything just grab it,

There’s nothing, I can’t get out of the car,

Yes. Oh my god, oh god!

If Mirella Juarez said anything else, there was no one there to hear her. The call was disconnected.

Riki Ray stared her the computer monitor in front of her. She couldn’t see it. Her eyes burned, she couldn’t breathe. There had been a noise in that last second and she wasn’t sure if it came from Mirella or if it was the sound of the water finally getting it’s way. Determined Death. A sound she would hear over and over again for the rest of her life.

You okay Riki?

We lost her.

Who?

September 8th, 2009

Let Her Die on One Hand and Save Her With the Other

by admin

let her go
Let Her Go

Posted at 9.56pm:=== gunna KILL MYSELF TONIGHT FUK OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!! THIS AINT NO JOKE

34 mins later #1 sees this message staring back at her from her facebook page. What to feel, so many swirling thoughts but no true dark fear for Girl. #1 is somewhat surprised at her lack of emotion.

36 minutes later on the phone.

#1 guess what I saw when I logged into my facebook page? At the top of the page this crazy suicidal message. There was one earlier in the day from Girl as well, ranting about going out to get her drunk on but good.

maybe she should kill herself.

#2 *Gasp* on the other end.

#1: that was terrible wasn’t it? I didn’t mean it.

#2 That almost makes it worse.

#1 well, I did maybe mean it a bit. Can you imagine living with those kinds of feelings day after day? She is never going to get the help she needs, she thinks she is fine even though she turns to drugs and prostitution.

#2 She could end up like one of Robert Pickton’s victims.

#1 reckless and careless, it could happen so easily.
if she died she would not have to suffer any more at least. When dogs are suffering you put them down, it’s the humane thing to do. maybe she should be put down and out of her misery.

41 minutes later off phone.

#1 takes another look at Girls facebook page and reads down further. sees nothing but drunken statements and swearing sadness, if she could drink her tears to get drunk she would never be sober again, she could finally drown and end it all.

what about the No Joke part of what she posted? Doesn’t that statement seem a little like attention whoring to anyone else she wonders. Wouldn’t someone who really did want to die not bother with that? A cry for help, but from who, for who? This isn’t the reality of imminent death she thinks as she sits still blinking at the luminescent glow of her iMac.

46 minutes later #1 still staring at Girls status wondering if she should reply, thinks about putting something on her own status like, sad for family or something along those lines. thinks too tacky, should she say something to the pained one? can I really help? would I just be feeding it, the drama she soaks up like a filthy old used up sponge?

50 minutes later still staring doing nothing. refreshing from time to time to see what comes next. maybe a post from Girl that says, “I’m dead, I told you I’d do it!”

Sickest part is that this fills me with an almost envy. I find the recklessness both repulsive and seductive.

I remember the feeling of caring about nothing in the world but getting what I needed, as complicated and stressful as that was. It was also simple. Life in it’s simplest form: survival and to someone like me, like Girl, it is getting high or drunk.

Real life requires so much more thinking it gets tiresome and sometimes I want to shuck the skin of life and slip into the gleaming satiny sense of nothingness.

When does one feels as whole as when they finally take the hit they have been aching for for hours?

55 minutes later No promises, sometimes not even a need to lie anymore. No more apologies way past that. To crave being able to glide away on a wave of blissful sparkling light to a place of peace and softness for just a little while.

Those hours walking around and around townhouse subdivisions watching others live in the real world while taking it in without ever actually having to touch it. A unique worldview only available to us chosen few.

Air feels like cool velvet, sometimes like a warm caress from a caring mother, the world shrinks and becomes about only you and your demons. Fight fight fight play play play fight play fight fight again and again. Play. End. Stop. Here.

59 minutes later #1 anger. how could she email Girl in a way she won’t know who it is. Like *69 for phones.  tell her that this time if she is really going to do it, don’t step in front of a truck like last time, because someone else could get hurt. kill herself responsibly.

maybe it’s simply none of her business. what can she do anyway? at some point we are all responsible for out own choices. to help or not to help. let her die on one hand or try and save her with the other.

60 minutes later mind of #1 made up. do nothing. let her go.