Can time not go back?

I wish it could.

For I sure would go to that place

just to see your face.

I once was a fool

and lost the best chance

and it has come back to haunt me

Time and age has come with tears and pain

I think what if and

where are you

I hope you are well and hope you have had the best in life.

I am here, where are you?

I've got nothing

in the wicker...

floating faster

falling swifter...

The rattan itself

is worn away

and whatever

might have

carried thru

among the reeds

has disappeared

in our fray...

What did I say?

calls the fisherman

on the raft right

round the bend

Nothing, nothin'

in water it is

written...

my friends

averting

misty eyes &

crashing back

into our waves

2023 APR 06

As soon as the door opens, I bolt into the closet to avoid being seen. I do this every time Lilian comes home, but today it’s even more important. She’s mad. I can’t tell who she’s yelling at yet, but I can hear crying.

“Would you stop?! You know who I am!”

“No, I don’t!” she says, crying even harder. I can see her now; she's a little girl, and she looks to be six or seven.

“I am your mother! Stop playing around Ashlynn, or you’ll be going to bed early tonight.” I could tell how exasperated she was, but Lilian doesn’t have a daughter. She’s thirty-two, and has never been married, or been in a relationship long enough to have a child.

The little girl quiets gradually, and when she finally forces herself to stop crying, she says, “My name is not Ashlynn, it’s Eva, and I think you mixed me up with your own child. My mommy’s name is Helen, and my daddy’s name is Robert. I live on-” but Lilian cuts her off.

“Your name is Ashlynn, I am your mother, and your father died two months ago!” She screams the last bit, and Eva starts crying again.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It’s probably the landlord, coming for the monthly check. Lilian goes wide-eyed, but walks toward the door. “Go sit in the living room, Ashlynn.”

She smooths her dress and opens the door. “Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

When he comes in, I see that it’s a police officer. “Ma’am, we got a call a few minutes ago, saying that one of your neighbors saw something moving in here, and you weren’t home yet.

Would you mind if I take a look around real quick?” But he’s already walking in before she can nod her answer.

Doesn’t he realize that there’s something wrong with Lilian? She’s a wreck, and it’s only going to get worse.

I’m the one who was seen in here earlier. I sometimes come in here and try on my old clothes that Lilian never got rid of. It makes me feel real, since I died two months ago. I’ve been watching over her, making sure she’s alright. Lilian and I were together for two years.

Before I died, she told me that I was the only man she ever loved. There is definitely something going on with her, though. She didn’t used to be like this.

I always loved taking Lilian places, and spending time with her. She was a little uncertain of our relationship at first; she wasn’t very open with her feelings. But after a while, everything seemed so natural.

But Lilian never wanted a child. She specifically told me that when I would bring it up, hoping she’d change her mind. I don’t know where she found that little girl, but she seems to actually think her name is Ashlynn, and that I’m her father.

After looking all through the house, he goes into the living room, and sees Eva. She looks scared, so he sits down cautiously. “Hello," he says, "And who might you be?”

She just stares, and doesn’t say anything, probably thinking that Lilian was going to freak out again if she says Eva.

“It’s alright. You can tell me. What’s wrong?” Nothing. “Can you tell me your name?” Still no answer.

He takes out his spiral pad and a pen and hands it to her. She takes it, but doesn’t write anything down.

Lilian comes in, carrying coffee. “What’s going on?” she says suspiciously, looking back and forth between the two.

“Is this your daughter?” he asks, looking at Eva the whole time.

Lilian is silent for a moment. “Yes, of course, she’s my daughter. Why else would she be in my house, on my couch?” she asks him defensively.

“Ma’am, she looks terrified, and there is nothing in this house that suggests a child lives here. I’m going to have to ask you to go stand in the foyer for a few minutes while I talk to the girl.” He turns to Eva as Lilian walks away.

“Now, I want you to tell me your name, so we can get you back to your real parents. Can you tell me?”

She stays quiet for a moment, and then recites what she tried telling Lilian earlier. “My name is Eva. My mom’s name is Helen, and my dad’s name is Robert. We live in a neighborhood called White Springs, and I was at the playground when she-” She looks up at Lilian, who is now crying. “She came over to me and picked me up, calling me her baby, like I was her daughter. I don’t know her though, please help me.” She talks so quickly he has to scribble to keep up.

“Okay, Eva. Do you know your parents’ phone number? Or your address?” She shakes her head no.

“I’m sorry.” She pauses. “I'm still going home, right?” She actually looks scared that he’ll say no.

“Of course you will. I’ll be right back.” he tells her, and walks into the foyer to talk to Lilian. “Can we go outside and talk?” he asks her, eyeing the door.

“Sure.” She looks upset, like it’s actually her daughter who is about to be taken from her.

~

Before I died, Lilian was put in a mental hospital to care for her, and to fix her. They said that she was experiencing a break from reality, caused by the loss of a loved one. They don’t know about me; no one does, but they know that her dad died earlier this year.

She broke down at least once a day, being trapped in a small room alone, aside from her once a day therapy session. Lilian is considered one of the dangerous ones in this place.

I visit her everyday, and most days, I stay all day. She started talking to herself more and more frequently, which the doctors found concerning, but she was trying to talk herself through everything that had happened.

And then- well, then, she started talking to me, too. She told me she was sorry, that she loved me so much, that she wanted to see me- just one more time, if that’s all she could.

She just wanted a chance to apologize, to make it up to me for what she did. I never spoke back, but I listened, whenever she needed it.

~

About two months ago, Lilian was still grieving her dad’s death, and I came over to her house to comfort her. She seemed to be telling herself that he was coming back, that he just went to the store, and took a detour, that he got lost, that he was getting directions, on and on until I tried to tell her that he was gone for good.

Lilian had been my everything, so I wanted to help her feel better, to move one, even if she still missed him. But she shut down, stopped talking to me. And I know I shouldn’t have, but I left. She kept telling me I couldn’t help her, and that I was worthless, that if she had been with her dad more instead of me, he would still be here.

I had given up on talking to her for the week, but then I saw her walking in the park. Out of impulse, I went up to her, asked if we could talk. She tried to walk away, but I followed. She ignored me all the way back to her house, even when I tried telling her that I loved her, that I would always be there for her, that she could tell me anything she needed to get out of her system. But she slammed the door on me,

I could tell she wasn’t okay, and I still had a key to her house, so I went in. She was in the kitchen, starting to make dinner. “Sit down.” she said. I looked at her questioningly. She looked straight through me. “What are you waiting for?! I said sit!”

So I sat. She rushed around the kitchen, banging pots and pans and gathering ingredients that made no sense together. I stood up.

“Lilian, are you alright?”

“I told you to sit down!” She was screaming at this point.

“Lilian, listen to me, Please, just talk to-”

“No! I said sit down! Stop telling me that everything is fine and that it’s going to be okay, and that everything I’m feeling is normal! I lost my only living parent, the only person who ever cared about me! I! Am! Alone! But you wouldn’t get it, because everyone cares about you! Just get out of my life!”

“Lilian, you need help. You can’t live like this. I’ll go if that’s what you want, but then you would be really alone. I love you, Lilian. I always will, and I’m so glad I have you. I don’t want to lose you. I need you.” I’m crying but she doesn’t seem to care.

She pauses, silent, except for the sound of her breath hitching as she cries. “I love you too, Jack.”

I move toward her, and wrap my arms around her. We stay there like that for a while, just hugging her, crying, while I tell her how much I love her.

I whisper, “He may be gone, but you can still talk to him whenever you want to.” Her eyes go wide, and she gets mad again, shoving me away.

“He’s not gone! He’s coming back! He would never leave me!” She’s back to screaming, “I know he’s not gone. You’re both just pranking me. He’s on vacation somewhere. That’s where he’s been! That’s why he’s been gone! Don’t lie to me!”

She picks up the cutting board off the floor, washes it, and starts haphazardly chopping onions and other vegetables.

“Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself. Do you want me to do it instead?” I ask, hoping she’ll put the knife down before she cuts herself. I walk toward her slowly. “Honey, come relax for a few minutes. I grab her arm gently, trying to ease her out of whatever came over her, like I did before. “Lilian. Lilian, I need you to talk to me.” With my other hand, I gently take her wrist, the hand she’s holding the knife with.

She seems to cooperate, but then her eyes go wide, and she realizes what I’m doing.

“Lilian, please, just calm down.” I tighten my grip just in case, but she’s faster than me. She slips out of my hold, and walks around to the other side of the island countertop.

“Lilian! Please, Lilian! We can work through this. You will be alright. I’ll get you someone to talk to. We can even go together if you want. I love-”

But she charged at me, and everything went black as my head hit the counter and I fell to the ground.

When I woke up, I could float, and go through walls, and no one could see me. I don’t blame her for what she did. She was hurt- and something was going on. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t herself. I don’t think she ever will be again.

I watch her now, and she doesn’t seem happy, but she seems at peace. And I’m happy for her. She’ll make it. Even if I didn’t.

My question is this,

if you had to choose, do you think A or B is a member of the Incel group?

Case Study A

Involuntary celibacy

Alone in the halls

Constant depressive state

No friends at all

Quiet everyday

Creeps his peers out

Mental Instabilities

Case Study B

Declining mentally

Causing people to be worried

Social-anxiety

Tight-lipped as can be

No relationships at all

Celibate Involuntarily

Let me explain,

the point of this study.

It’s based on what is seen within society.

A & B are similar in many ways.

Their differences aren’t seen so easily.

That’s exactly where the danger lays.

The Incel’s group have been growing over time, they say.

They murder women, as in men committing heinous crimes.

It’s not gender specific, there are too women Incels who cross morbid lines.

Lives are in danger, all based on their anger.

Due to lack of dating, selfishly thinking women owe them sexual favors.

Assuming they’re owed something that doesn’t have to be given.

Acting on assumption & fake reality, based on their opinion.

I think the mass of readers will pick both case studies as being a part of the Incel group.

I’m sure you chose both A & Be as being an INCEL totally.

This is the tricky part of my social experiment.

I may not garner support of public opinion.

I conclude that involuntary celibacy shouldn’t be the focus, primarily.

When you hear about these groups, put the bigger picture in a frame.

Mass murder should be tied to only one thing

What fuels an Incel at the end of the day, is—

Mental health & the lack of understanding.

When seven in the AM struct

A sound echoed in the duct

It had travelled from below a flight of stairs

Right by a door that ceases airs

As my hounds cried out in curiosity

All I could do was sit up solemnly

Despite the indifference you could not see behind

There was then fear and doubt in my mind

"My, oh my, who could it be at this hour?

I've nary had time to get ready nor shower!

Outside it is still dark

Why couldn't they have just gone to the park?

Me myself and I

we keep ourselves in bed where we lie

Who could it be knocking at my door?

Is it an attack they have in store?"

The bell had rung once more, such a dreadful ode it was

And all I did was sit and ponder, allowing my worries to buzz

Perhaps it was that lad who strolls in the dead of night talking to himself

Or perhaps it's some guy looking for his shelf

Perhaps behind the door is someone waiting with a gun

How I hope eventually it'll be no one

I must sit still for you see

They'll knock all day if they hear me

Even if it wasn't a threat, I wasn't in any condition to socialize

Perhaps my mind goes far too fast, maybe it's not worth it to analyze

Still, despite logic returning to my frantic and tired mind

Anxiety crept up despite logic's effort to leave it behind

Thrice it had rung, perhaps it was something important

What was wrong with me, why was I hesitant?

There was no such thing as the boogeyman, and yet

I still fail to realize how severe my anxiety can get

In a sudden burst of stubbornness and arrogance

I decided to give the door a chance

Calling myself dumb and absolutely ridiculous

And promptly deciding that being proven wrong was more delicious

Delicious it was, quite literally

for it was my beloved neighbor who had waited so patiently

I wondered if in his head he had declared, "Finally!"

As he handed over a tray of sweets so delicately

Formally, I had apologized

And spared him of the details surrounding my mind so agonized

When the door had closed, I zoned out momentarily

And once again sat down solemnly

Within these dark walls it does me no favor

I figured that I should have been braver

Yet, once more to my room I slink

Alone in a dark room, just to think

The last playlist I made was a journey through the hole I dig for myself to be buried in

The dance I do with the devil in my head

And I finished

Heaving and sweating

My bones aching from persistently toiling at my craft

My fingertips raw and red

Tap tap tapping the surface of what it’s like to play his game

To witness his trickery

You’d have to be there, really

But a collection of distraught chords and haunting melodies is all I have to give

The croak of a vocalist

Distraught with what she believes is her fate

To stand at a mic and belt out her own worst nightmares

Capturing and locking her personal demons in the recordings of them

Ignoring the shadows that lurk in the corners of her padded room

Waiting with baited breath for her to falter

For her soul to give out

For her to make a misstep

Once

Twice

Enough times for her to stop trying to reach people like me

I sit at my work station with my hands clasped above my head

Horrified at the dreams I’ve made true

The voices I’ve given a place to reside

It’s wrong.

But it’s his call now

Soon enough our battle will have an audience

My act a standing ovation.

Rinse to repeat,

Slap to tap,

Drown in brown,

Death in the bet.

Thrust, it must,

Push and pull,

Space in slow pace,

Punch to knock.

Throw the stone,

Bones and arrows,

Effect explodes,

Impact implodes.

For me or for you,

For them or for us,

Insert the coin,

Pay with the dollar.

Cause and effect,

Cycle after cycle,

Life and death.

© Marcel Nault Jr, 2022

The air is thick with the scent of rain, each footstep sinking into the grass, the mud clinging to the soles of our shoes as we make our way through trodden-down paths lined with snapped twigs.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

I grin.

“Come on, Tony, you can’t back out now. You said you’d do it.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were joking!” Tony says, flicking me.

“I never joke about creepy woods,” I say, trying to ignore my foot sliding on the path. “Come on. Jessica said she went back here with some dude once and he went crazy afterwards.”

“And that’s your idea of fun?”

“Yes!”

“You’re so weird.”

Tony has never appreciated my genius. Ever since we met in third grade, he’s been the voice of reason that I’ve had to learn to ignore. I’ve never understood. What kind of person hears about the creepy woods at the edge of our school and then decides not to go in? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Aaron, how far do we need to go, anyway?”

“Until we find something cool.”

“I mean, I think that tree over there looks cool.”

“Dude. You know what I mean.”

“Couldn’t we be like normal people and watch a scary movie or something instead? It’s Halloween tomorrow.”

“Actually,” I say, looking at my watch. “It’s Halloween today.”

Even in the dark, I can see Tony’s eyes rolling.

“Don’t sound so smug, Triple A.”

“If you keep calling me that, I’ll bring back Tony the Tiger.”

“When are you gonna let that go? I was eight and I liked cereal. What else was I supposed to be for Halloween?”

“I don’t know, a pirate or something?”

“My mom told me it was cool.”

“No. She told you it was adorable. Which, to her credit, it was.”

“Weren’t you Batman that year?”

“Yeah, and I had to keep correcting everyone because they thought I was Batgirl.”

“Oh yeah, I remember. Which is so dumb. Batgirl has a totally different mask.”

“I know. I didn’t even know there was a Batgirl at the time.”

“I can’t believe your parents were surprised when you came out.”

“I know, right? They should’ve seen it coming.”

Tony falls silent. I can’t tell whether he’s thinking about me or about the woods.

“What was that?” Tony asks.

He’s looking in front of us. I squint. Nothing. Just the pale light of the moon marking our path.

“I… don’t see anything.”

“No, listen. Do you hear that?”

I stop. Listen.

“Nope. Not a thing.”

“Are you sure? It’s louder now. It sounds like someone’s talking.”

I look over.

“Well, what’re they saying? ‘Come little children, I’ll take thee away?’”

Tony does not look amused.

“No. I don’t know. Are you sure you can’t hear anything?”

I take one more pause to listen. Nothing. Well, nothing except for the sound of our footsteps and the rustle of trees.

“Nope. Nothing.”

But my steps are softer now, more hesitant, senses on high alert. What is Tony hearing that I’m not? What am I missing?

“Wait,” Tony says, so sharply that I can almost feel it.

“What? What is it?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The woman speaking. She’s gotta be close. I can hear her.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“I can hear her, where is she?”

“I don’t know, man, I still can’t hear anything.”

“That’s not possible. It sounds like she’s right here.”

“What is… she… saying?”

Tony looks like his mouth can’t form the words. Open, then closed. But no sound. His eyes bulge, veins just beginning to show themselves on his forehead. Like something is pinching his nose, suffocating him.

“I can’t tell you,” he says at last, with an almost painful effort.

My mild amusement is starting to devolve into outright fear.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I don’t have a secret!”

“What? I didn’t… Tony, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t have a secret. I don’t have a secret. Leave me alone!”

“Tony, snap out of it. No one’s here. It’s okay.”

He takes off running, shoes slapping against the muddy ground. In the dark it’s too hard to watch him, so I follow the sound instead.

“Tony! What are you doing?”

He’s still rambling about secrets.

“Tony, come back. You’re scaring me.”

He’s going crazy.

When I finally catch up to him, he’s sitting on the ground, curled into the fetal position. When I shake him, he seems to look past me, his eyes wild.

“I don’t have a secret,” he says weakly.

“I… don’t really care whether you have a secret or not,” I say. “Just snap out of it, dude.”

He stares blankly at some imagined horror over my shoulder.

“She wants me to tell you. She says I have to tell you.”

“Okay. Then tell me, I guess?”

“But I don’t have a secret.”

“Obviously you do. Not that I care. But apparently somebody cares.”

He doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s in a debate with himself and some invisible force. I’m only a bystander, a witness to a supernatural battle of wills.

He yells something inaudible, like the sound of his voice is being swallowed in an invisible vacuum.

“Fine,” he says, slumping over with defeat. “I’ll say it. Just leave me alone.”

For a moment I almost think I hear it: the maniacal laughter of some unknown woman. But only for a moment.

“What is it?”

He says it so quietly that I can’t hear him.

“What?”

“I’m gay.”

“Wait, that was your secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude I’ve known that for months. I thought you committed a murder or something.”

“Wait, what?”

“Do you not remember your birthday party this year? You spent the entire time talking about how hot Chris Evans was. If that’s not gay, I don’t know what is.”

“Okay, fine, but a murder? That’s where your brain went?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“You’re nuts.”

I laugh.

“Maybe you’re nuts.”

“Well? Can we go home yet?”

I feign an exasperated sigh.

“I guess so.”

The hard part of the night is over. I let myself breathe a sigh of relief.

Every time I go into these woods, it’s a risk. Ever since Jessica told me about the spirit that lives in these woods, a woman called the Secret Keeper, I’ve been taking my friends back here, one by one. Tony was the last on my list. I was just too scared.

Everyone has a secret. But some people’s secrets are vile. I can’t risk that. I need to know. I need to know everyone’s secrets.

Me and the Secret Keeper have made a deal. She feeds off of secrets, see. So when I wandered in here the first time, she knew my secret right away. She was going to expose me, tell everyone about the spell I cast to trick my parents. How was I supposed to tell them that I was a guy? They would never have listened. I needed them to understand.

But everyone would have called me crazy. So I had to make a deal. Instead of my secret, it’d be everyone else’s. It has become a test for me. Are my friends really my friends?

Now I can know for sure. I can know everything. The Secret Keeper tells me what she sees, every deep dark thought and hidden memory.

And my secret will remain safe with her.