Everyday life
I can see the stars not outside but on my hand
I like the flowy-ish curtains
I see a stuffed animal held by someone walking downstairs
Hmm what else
I see a cool tee-shirt with flower designs
I can see different sculptures around, one with eyes, one with teeth
I can hear laughing children
The sound of typing from my computer
Quiet mumbling
Song lyrics in my head
Humming
Feet tapping
Book pages flapping
The AC running and moving paper
The sniffling of people
I guess I can sense life and being human
A Life Through An Object
A kaleidoscope truly speaks to people
It describes YOUR life
Only YOU know
And when you try to give it away it gets messed up
everytime
You see what you want to see
Frankly it pretty cool
the notion of beautiful colors
the sound of it swaying to new shapes and figures
It goes black and white as the world crumbles
It's fetching oscillation of hue and tune
Trinkets upon Clouds
We were walking down a busy walkway when suddenly Cecil wandered off. I was worrying as I searched all around for him. Bumping into people I see a boy with brown hair, blue coat, with rainboots. I quickly get over to see the boy staring intently at a store in front of him. Gadgets and gizmos all surrounded in a mess of collectors items. It seemed so cluttered nobody dared to walk inside. I saw splatters of paint and gears messily glued to a wall.
“Cecil why did you roam away from my side?”
“Father look, look!” He points from his tippy toes and shows the store off like a prize.
I stare at the trinkets inside and see many clocks on different times and paintings of people with odd features, the wallpaper peeling off on every wall. I cringed at the mess all around. But my son loved the idea of a trinket box filled with mysteries. I don’t quite understand the point of it. A box of random items for no reason?
“Let’s go, son.” I tried not to lean into the idea of going inside.
“But why?” He asked with the eyes of an angel. I tried not to cave in but the glimmer in his eyes got to me easily.
“Well it’s less than 100 days until your birthday. So okay.” I said.
We walk in and surprisingly it’s really cold. I hear everything that's going on, the ticking of clocks and the horn of toy trains. He walks away immediately but still in my range of view he goes over to stacks of books with paper origami hanging from the ceiling. I gaze in wonder as try and look for the owner. A desk peeked out of the corner of my eye. I assumed it to be the owners and rang the tiny bell on the corner. It rang like no other. It sang a tune instead of a slight noise. Nobody came. My son quizzically looked up from the book.
“Look father!” He giggled. I looked up from where he pointed and saw a little wooden horse, hand carved, flying across the room. Cecil laughed in enjoyment as it floated down in his hands. A tall man with a small frame came out of a corner, he seemed no older than 20.
“Why, son, did you enjoy my trick?” He told Cecil
“Of course, sire! How did you do that?” Cecil asked.
“A true magician never tells his secrets.” He said. I looked at my son, and with the perfect look he asked, “Father can I please get this?” He held the horse to his chest.
“How much is it sir?” I asked the odd man.
“Well before you decide how about you see this?” He pulled a ball from his ear, a tiny plastic one. Then another. One after the other six of them escaped. He started juggling them. Cecil seemed very amused. Then the man held all the balls together and squashed them into one. Cecil loved it.
“How much is it?” I asked once more and with no answer the man started more tricks. Cecil was clapping his hands cheering for the man.
Then a delivery boy walked in with a package in hand. I told Cecil to pick out one thing to keep. The owner was occupied with the delivery boy as I set down $4.oo on his desk. Cecil pick out that wooden horse and we left.
As soon as my hand felt the cold door it disappeared. Smoke surrounded me and Cecil. A gust of wind swooshed by almost sweeping me off my feet. The smoke ceases to be visible and I notice Cecil is gone.
“Cecil?!” I yell looking around the shoppe “Cecil, where are you?”
Unnamed
Playing my viola at a school concert with my parents drunk as shit at home. They never did anything for me then they died in a car accident driving me to stay with my aunt - aka abandoning me with her. I took full blame, then all of a sudden, I found out I was a seer (of the past and future) when I turned 14. Did my parents ever tell me I would be a seer? No, and I told only my aunt. I saw tons of past witches at steak being burned and hung; Genevieve was one of them that I saw a lot . She referred to all seers as animals; take me for example; I am a Stingray. That spiritually symbolizes maneuverability, someone who can adapt quickly. Genevieve would connect to me through messages she put for me to find. She taught me everything my parents couldn't. How to control my visions and how to protect myself from being caught even though it wasn’t a big problem.
I started a different school when everyone found out about me, though to them I wasn’t a ‘seer,’ I was a ‘fortune teller’ even though I saw the past and future. I started going to some school with other kids like me - traumatized and magical. They even have their own therapist for students like me. My first day I got there and met Bones. They were… different from others. Bones had all powers, but they only last for seconds before they wear off. They are my roommate I lived in the school for the time I was there and my first meeting with the therapist went… okay. Kinda okay. Not good. Bad?
“So,” the woman started as she stuck out her hand. “I’m Meredith Spring, nice to meet you…?”
“Rue.” I shook her hand and sat down, my mind was racing. I hate the first time meeting a new therapist, and most of them give up on me. Her smile put me in a trace. She spoke first.
“So, How has school been? It's rough starting in the middle of the school year.”
“Good.”
“Any new friends? I hear you and Char are roommates.”
“Bones.”
“What?”
“That’s their name now.”
“Oh, okay, thank you for telling me,” she continued to ramble on and on about questions, which I didn’t pay much attention to until…
“What about the grief of your parents death? How’s that going?” she asked. I froze in shock even though my last few therapists always started with that question. The little stress ball the office gave me is in my pocket, and I'm squeezing the life out of it. Without thinking I go ballistic on her.
“Yeah I haven't done shit for grief. I mean what am I supposed to do?!”
“You could read, listen to music, or maybe write in a journal-”
“Write in a journal about how I killed my own parents?!”
“You didn’t kill your parents!”
“How do you know?” I threw my hand up. A lady knocked at the door saying there was a family emergency going on.
“Let's end our session here.” She said as I stormed out of the room.
The dead boy
A breeze against my shoulder and a voice as a turn to see who was there. Nobody was behind me. Huh weird. I see a poster as I pass by a class I only saw the word missing, so I stopped to see what the poster said.
"Missing person, Kyle Hail, Blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and freckles." I turned to my friends.
"Did you know him?" I asked
"Not really, he was a year younger than us." One of them said. The bell rang as I walked into class.
The bell rang and I went to my locker. I grabbed the rest of my stuff and closed my locker. Then I saw the boy from the poster. I jumped back.
"You can see me?" He asked.
"Uh yeah-"
"This was my old locker." he interrupted me.
"Are you dead?"
"Yep..." he paused.
"How?" I broke his silence.
"A drunk lady hit me with her car and dumped my body in a swamp." the bell interrupted us.
"I have to go."
"Okay."
Lunch
I walked into the cafeteria and grabbed a plate of gross slop. Then I went to sit with my friends, Omar and Amir.
"You know that missing boy right?" I asked.
"Yeah what about him?" Amir said.
"Did you ever think he died?"
"Not until you said it." Omar says "He could be."