I love writing but have had minimal formal training (although I am studying it now!) and I always appreciate feedback. Thanks for stopping by 🤍
I love writing but have had minimal formal training (although I am studying it now!) and I always appreciate feedback. Thanks for stopping by 🤍
Blue; deep blue. Like the surface of the ocean at night. Her eyes wide. She doesn’t often smile, but when she does, it’s deep blue. She is a cloud; she holds the weight of waves behind her eyes. She looks down, but not on others. She stands tall with her chin up, at five foot two. She smiles, but she won’t smile at you.
Brown; warm brown. Like the fur coat of a feline in the sun. Closed mind, open heart, she keeps her walls up. Her kindness is distant, but if she lets you in, it’s toasted chestnuts. Reserved, but not shy. There’s wildflower seeds in her mind, but they have yet to be watered. Until then, she keeps her guard up; offers you a hand while her heart is caged up.
Space is a vacuum; I’d guess it would feel like nothing But it doesn’t feel like nothing It feels like ocean Vast, deep I am a wave Forming far away from the shore And instead of crashing, I retreat again, slowly.
I’ve been here before It’s good to be back I feel both lost and as if I’ve finally found my path Peace, peace I smile into the abyss Trying to savor it Not willing to admit it But the open space is the only place that feels like home to me.
I breathe the nothing It tastes like salt I sink without drowning and float without falling Wait, heal I allow myself to relax My heart no longer aches My skin feels like my own In space, day and night are one, as love and loss are too. I sink into the ocean, I float above the stars And as I absorb the salt and sleep, I feel my scars begin to heal.
Where do you go when you’ve never seen the world?
Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk.
Careful, they said, else you’ll get stuck like them.
She listens to her breathing. The air against her nostrils. The exhale is just enough to shift the candy bar wrapper in her lap.
Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk.
She notices her shoulders feel tight, so she forces them away from her ears. Relax, she tells herself. She feels the breaths in her chest. The rib cage expands and contracts. Slow your breathing, she tells herself.
Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. __ __ Why does she have to go? She was perfectly content in her little village. Who cares if she doesn’t have children? As the thought comes to her mind, so does the answer. She just wishes she didn’t have to wait so long. Just get it over with.
She looks up. High ceilings. Square white lights. She looks away and sees blue spots. _Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. _The spot in her back between her shoulder blades tenses up. She bounces her knee at the speed of a cheetah. Her shoulders rise to her ears.
“Can you please stop tapping the table?”
All eyes dart to her. The knuckles lift up and rest in the lap. “Thank you,” she sighs, finally meeting her eyes;
Not a her. The person does not look like a woman. Her shoulders tense up again. She hears her breaths. Square jaw. Lump in neck. Wide shoulders. She didn’t realize she’d meet a man before even getting there. This is the waiting room. She isn’t prepared. She isn’t prepared. She isn’t prepared—
Smile for me. _Please. _ __ Even if it’s a lie—I don’t care, I just want to see you smile. Just _once. _
I don’t… I don’t think I can do that.
-No. He has to. He has to. I felt the pain it took for him just to be able to say those words. But he has to. I need him to.-
No, no, you have to. You can be happy. You can get better. Please. I need to see it.
-I taste the salt that clogs my eyes. I can’t see. I can’t let him be like this forever. I need to help him. I need to.-
Please. -Every word choked out. He doesn’t speak.- Let me help you. I would be anything for you.
-He stares. Can’t express anything.-
Gabriel.
-His name, a loss. He can’t get better. He won’t let me help. He won’t even try. No longer himself. I am lost.-
I’m so… I’m sorry,
This is an excerpt from one of my book ideas. I likely will not finish it, but I love this scene. Enjoy!
——
He chuckles, a low, genuine sound that starts from his belly. “Calm down, Apple Holler. You’re too smart for your own good. We’re at a party, and you’re still thinking about work.”
My cheeks flush. “Right. Sorry.” I don’t want to bother him about my conspiracies if he’s not interested.
He taps my arm. This is the first time he’s willingly touched me. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Alright, I’m gonna go get a soda. You want anything?”
I shake my head and he begins to walk away. I stand there for a moment, feet planted in the ground, groups of people talking around me but their voices are distant. My heartbeat doesn’t slow down. My chest feels light, like I’m about to fly away.
I know what this is.
As I stand here in my red dress under the lights, I have to remind myself that I am Holly. Strong-willed, hardworking Holly. The girl who convinced her mom to let her do karate at age seven. The girl who hasn’t given up on her dad. The girl who is the only proudly single one in her friend group. Landed a job after one interview. Independent.
And I, Holly, am falling in love.
But this is a job. He is my partner for this project, not my… whatever. I cannot let this compromise the integrity of my work. Marcus will have to wait.
Join me where the fairies sing Over the rocks resembling giants’ limbs, Memories of their bodies set in stone As if they’re still there; as if you can hear The music of their breath
Rise
And fall.
Join me where the children play Among the gnomes and toadstools We can get there by a dragon’s wing Or by riding the waves of the ocean, Almost becoming the water itself,
Rising
And falling.
Join me by the lily pond Where ripples made by mermaid’s tails Surprise the frogs in morning fog And sigh beneath the surface.
Join me in a place We find and make our own Away from the chaos and creation In our own little world.
•
The last text I sent to a friend was asking if they wanted to join me for dinner lol
Stars shine solitary Lovely daughters lost their mother Smile as they search for her Among their average days
Quiet but not conservative She sought her sunken ship Now every night her daughters sigh A goodnight is not goodbye
The daughters are now mothers As they have children of their own Their days are full of joy and demure A growth from gardens sown
A second chance to be a mother To welcome children into their ways They smile as they search for her Among their average days.
I try And I try And I try And I try
My effort stretched for miles If laid out in a line.
Higher than high My goals in the sky I did everything I could To bring them to life
I tried. I really did.
The late nights Little sleep Lost track of time Forgot to eat
I pushed myself so far Past my limit I made myself die.
My eyes sigh My heart cries
What more could I have done? What more could I still do?
Everything I worked for…
_I will never achieve. _ __ __ __ To my younger self, I apologize
To my future self, Why?
To my present self, What now?
If there’s nothing more I can try…
I must rest.
My eyes sigh My heart cries My smile dies
So I must lie
Down to rest.
Perhaps tomorrow I will try
Again.
She keeps the doors unlocked.
Ada works as a baker. Her shop is on the corner, making the whole block smell good. The cozy booths and turquoise chairs give the shop a contemporary feel. Her croissants and eclairs are regarded as the best in the country. She lives above her bakery with a cat and a fish tank. She has no children of her own, so she often visits her sister’s house, as she has a husband and two sons, both in elementary school. Whenever she visits, she brings homemade treats for free, but when they visit her shop, she charges them extra.
At night, she closes the doors and curtains, but she keeps an ear out for anyone who knocks twice only. She opens the door and sells her monkey bread, which only a few people know about.
Her bakery has been closed for a while now. Closed, yet the doors remain open. She keeps the doors unlocked.
I know all this. I know about the monkey bread, the recipes for her croissants, the cat that I’ve only seen a couple times that I now take care of full time. Ada is gone. Her doors remain open now.
I knocked twice. I got no response. She wasn’t even at home. She was in a neighboring town, trying to jumpstart a friend’s car, when she got hit by a drunk driver. Even at the end, she was helping people.
I am her nephew. I walk past her shop every day. It has a For Sale sign in the window. It’s no longer the special shop in the neighborhood. It no longer holds my aunt, or her cat, or her croissants, or her kindness. It’s no longer the cozy bakery, where the owner is caring and welcoming and her door is always open. Although, her door is always open now. I have the key now. It lies on my bedside table, where it will remain, as I do not want to touch it and think of her any more than I already do.
She keeps the doors unlocked.
“Hello?” I answer the phone. I don’t recognize the number, but it’s the second time they’re calling, so I figure it’s not spam or anything like that.
“Is this Rachel Nogueras?” The voice on the other line asks quickly. She sounds stressed.
“Yes, this is she.” My heart beats into my throat.
“I’m a nurse at Northwestern. Your sister’s had an accident. She asked me to call you… before she passed away,” she says. My vision blurs. My heart stops. I forget how to breathe. “There’s a child here—her son—and she needs you to take care of him. She doesn’t have a spouse.”
I know that but I can’t talk. Her son Asher. Eight years old, now without a father or mother. She wants me to take care of him? I don’t even know how to take care of myself. I can’t believe she’s dead. What happened? An accident. What kind of accident?
“Rachel?”
I gulp in some air and manage to swallow. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Can you pick up the child?”
Shoot. I have to do that now? How the hell do you take care of those things? How to I help him process his mom dying, when I can barely comprehend it?
I take in a long breath. I have to take care of him. Who knows what’ll happen to him if I don’t? An orphanage? Foster care? I’ve heard horror stories from neighbors about those places. I can’t let her only son go. I have to do it for Ruby. I have to do it for her.
“Rachel? Are you still here?”
I blink and some water escapes, but I manage to calm my breathing down. “Yes. I will pick up her son.”
I end the phone call with a “thank you” and wipe my tears. God, this place is a mess. How am I supposed to raise a child here? I have an apartment, while Asher is used to living in a house. My kitchen island is covered with papers and my bedroom has dirty laundry on the floor. I’m not sure if I make enough money to support another person. My pantry is way under stocked.
I sigh. This is for Ruby. I have to do it. No excuses.
It’s already pretty late—nine at night—so I think I can just take Asher to bed when he gets here. Of course, I’ll have to set up a bed for him. But once he’s asleep, I can work on cleaning my home and making it kid-friendly. Then tomorrow, I’ll get groceries. One step at a time.
After pulling out a twin mattress that I use when a friend stays over from my closet, I put on the sheets, take a pillow from my bed, and grab a blanket from the living room. Then, I get in my car and drive to the hospital.
I’m thankful I don’t have to see my sister’s dead body (yet; I’ll deal with those emotions at the funeral) because Asher is in the front waiting room. I spot his brown curls before he sees me. He’s alone. Poor thing. I start walking towards him. When he sees me, he gets up and runs over to wrap his little arms around my stomach in a hug. I kneel down and give him a hug from there.
When I release him, I see his red and tear-stained face. “Hey,” I say gently, taking my thumb and wiping his cheeks. “It’ll be okay. I’m here.”
He sniffles and his breathing sounds more like choking. “My mama…”
“Shh, I know,” I say, rubbing his back. His crying breaks my heart. The poor thing. “I’m here.”
On the drive home, we listen to the Mary Poppins soundtrack, neither of us saying a word. When we get home, I ask if he’s had dinner. He says no, so I quickly heat up some boxed mac and cheese and pour him a glass of milk. I give him a small portion because he should be about to go to bed. I actually have a random spare toothbrush lying in the bathroom closet, unopened, so I give him that to use. In the morning, we’ll stop by his house to pick up his things.
We enter my bedroom, where I set up his makeshift bed. He views it, then looks back to me and asks, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I sigh. I wanted to clean up a bit… but it can wait. “Of course,” I say. I let him lie in my bed while I get ready, then I join him. “Goodnight, Asher.”
“Goodnight, Aunt Rae.”
