Antics-Dote For Sad Eyes
Second chapter of The Chapters of a Unicorn by mhmarie.
2800 words, 10 minute read, Write is in editing as of 07/26/2018.
Chosen for challenge as this unicorn could bring a smile to any face.
First chapter: Never In My Wildest Dreams
https://theprose.com/book/1643/The%20Chapters%20Of%20A%20Unicorn
Image: Drache by sandara on DeviantArt
So, we didn’t meet driving through the desert on some lonely dusty highway in the middle of the night. I thought long and hard how to possibly start telling your story and honestly had no intention of it starting the way it did. I was as surprised as I hope you were when my fingers found themselves taking a different direction to the fictional short story I was working on.
Everything that flowed forth, the words, memories, tears, and absolute dance of emotions all were an absolute surprise and complete shock to me as I poured those words and emotions out in that letter to you. I wonder how many people still think this is a story based in fiction?
Sitting there, editing that write--immediately following the first draft; I again felt the riptide of emotions. I was caught somewhere between radiating smiles like moonbeams full of little giggles at our good times and sobbing; as I relived that hailstorm of vivid details in that tiny hospital room the morning your dance ended.
As I staggered between the chunks of frozen pain hurling through my memory’s recount of that morning and taking the blows that physically jarred my soul--I remembered something beautiful.
That memory is why I’m writing this letter to you. I remembered you absolutely loved surprises. I immediately realized I was on the right track, love. That impossible task you had left me with of writing your chapters. Telling that great story you lived and always hoped to write yourself one day; all the sudden had a first step. A path forward out of the depths of my soul hole and into some form of communication that was sensible; shareable, and somehow remained beautiful; untouched by the darkness of my grief and the clumsiness of my lonely dance.
I knew a surprise was the only way to start your story. It reminded me of that empathy game you would play when anyone was sad, hurt, or unable to smile for whatever reason.
Your little voice, sweet and caring sent out like a true Texas cowgirl’s lasso would ride on waves of beautiful concern.
“Do you want to hear a joke?” You would ask head cocked slightly left or right. Your monster playfully staring out of the viewports of your soul. Her playful and adorable monster smile mirrored upon your own. Pearls of teeth showing between the curls of a anticipating smile; eyes glimmering with hope and raeching out with tendrils of a promise.
If that didn’t work; just a first step to your game. More of a distraction and staging point than anything else, upon which to build a platform structure to support the recoils of an empathy loaded cannonade barrage.
“No.” I’m not sure how it couldn’t have worked and someone denied you, especially your antics. Who wouldn’t want to hear a joke a bout a cat?! They must have been kitten.
Gosh for someone so flighty and always on the move, when it came to others, when it came to saving someone else, you always had the patience and time like that of a perfect sunset’s glow, enfolding upon the horizon of your presence and engulfing the attention of this troubled empathy game contender.
“Can I play you a song?” Your smile radiating. I can hear some of your go to on the spot songs right now - they did that jumble thing; song, playing on song, playing on song. Jumper, Firework, 22, Tubthumping, Boys In The Hood--the Dynamite Hack version of coarse.
You had a so many songs in your library, that beautiful place within our souls we built to lock away everything grand and keep hidden, safe from the world outside.
But, that is a story for another time I think. Our libraries, how they were built, and the wild fantastical places, artifacts, secrets, that they contained. Their custodian staff, playful monster inhabitants, and the demons that raged within, guarding the knowledge, treasures, captured moments, imprisoned eons and hidden truth’s secured within the pages, chapters, tomes, shelves, levels, and vaults of our libraries’ complex design.
“No.” Again a no. I can remember how hard it was though I managed to make it this far more than a few times playing the “No card” in your game; its soundtrack roaring in my head: “I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend.” “As you shoot across the skyyy” “I don’t know about you but I’m feeling, twenty-twoooo.” “I get knocked down, but I get up again.” “I reached back like a pimp and I slapped…” Well…you will have to look that one up.
“I could sing you a song..?” Never loosing your smile. Eyes full of sparkle and shine. Honest. True. Encouraging.
“No.” I’m not sure who truly aside from the most stubborn of individuals made it to this point without caving to that sweet voice of yours and its tangle of Texas southern, pig-tailed adorable, smokey vixen drawl melody played while the needle arm indicator of your empathy register was bouncing far into the red-zone.
”…do you need a hug?” Your head cocking slightly again to the side, eyes wide--not with concern but projecting pure portals of empathetic love storms. The light in the strands of your eyes dancing like lightning attempting to ground themselves on pain receivers of whoever was weathering the brunt of this incoming torrent of care and empathetic solidarity.
“No…I’m okay really” That was always my line anyway and we both know it always meant my chest was caving under the weight of whatever was perched upon it eating at my peace.
“I know you will be because you are awesome, and strong…” as you would give a hidden truth; something only you knew. A truth wrapped in a uniquely decorated package and gifted as I imagine a kitten would share its favorite toy with a much larger new feline that had suddenly appeared in their fluffy world. Gently, slowly slid by fresh furred tiny paw, awkwardly; as if not to push it too close but not leave your gift falling short and somehow offending this new presence that you were trying to appease.
This true gift of yours was always given freely as you pointed out the quality or strength you saw and loved most about that person. You wrapped it in the beautiful, caring, empathetic essence of an emotion that you uniquely felt for that person and slowly slid it, with nurturing confidence directly in front of their shaken soul; never breaking your raging love storm gaze that emanated from your caressing smile stare.
“We don’t have to talk about it, let’s not talk about it; if you don’t wanna talk about it! Then, I don’t wanna talk about it!” you would follow immideately after your gift was received. The carefully packaged emotion hidden withen springing out like Poo’s Tigger in a box wrapping its loving care around the weight hanging from the distressed soul’s neck. Like a bouey it would immediately, dutifully begain tugging the darkness that had settled there back to the surface of the hole they had found themselves in, tugging them right into your outstreatched embrace yearning hands.
“Thank you, I’ll be okay--shit happens yah know.” Again, my go to response. I must have looked like an easy opponent in your empathy game at first. I apologize for being so stubborn. I couldn’t let you carry everything, love. I know you would have if I let you.
You would pause then, after confirming there would be no talking about it. Now full of vigor as you were presented with a challenge in your game. A boss match on your last life against whatever foul creature created level 136 that has kept you a prisoner with Princess Peach all week. I mean who would arrange all those bubbles this way to make you memorize that combo and perform whatever seemingly impossible task to complete the match.
I assume situations like these are why you played your games every day in the challenges you faced. I don’t remember you ever playing games, really. Maybe a lot of Just Dance, or Guitar Hero…those were the days.
Accepting this “last life” boss match challenge to turn that “frown upside down” you would dive into your magic world that existed inside your library attached phone rolodex and memorize a new joke because, why not, right? A new trick in your bag of wonderful antics. Once satisfied in your search with a good one line zinger like a zoo that only had one animal being a Shit-zoo and that giggle of yours stifled--probably after texting the joke to someone because you just couldn’t help but share a good joke; the next phase of your quest began.
A song, a perfect song, Youtube, iPod, iTunes--no, maybe, no, no, maybe. Your mind whirling through its music library attempting to pin down that perfect jam that would bring a smile. A smile token roll in queue on your empathy turn playlist just incase that person changed their mind and opened their momentarily shattered heart by deciding maybe a song would help.
Once a perfect classic was queued up and on standby: the next phase of your beautiful game began. This phase began with a little bounce, a shuffle spree--type of motion that found rhythm as your lips began to slightly follow the motions of a song. I always knew it was reflex. You just had to be sure your performance was ready and on point if your offer to sing them a song was debated and later accepted.
“You are my sunshinnnneeee, myyy onlyyy sunnshine…..” was on full blast in your rainbow world. Blasting over your internal PA system like a full on dressed rehearsal of a pop singer like Katy Perry singing Roar to an empty stadium the night before a sold out show.
By this point in your attempt to inject that sullen soul that you were internally serenading, dancing with, telling jokes to, and hugging with your empathetic eyes and radiant presence, I always knew you were shaking inside, your monster ready to play and run off all the empathy you were absorbing. You were simply unable to let it go naturally and its weight at time’s was a strain as you couldn’t help but try and rid everyone of their darkness.
“Well what do you want to do? Because this is not okay! You better cheer up butter-cup!” Taking charge after all this planning you just wouldn’t be able to take it any longer. Something had to be done.
“Let’s get a beer - it looks like you need one. Don’t you worry! I’ve got the first round. Let’s go find today and you will forget all about it!” I loved this moment. Your tender grasp around the heart would change. It would shift so suddenly from nurture to play I doubt anyone that hadn’t undergone this enchanting berate of your play many times before would even know what had just reached inside and grasped them.
Spurred to their feet, maybe smiling, maybe not yet, soon their hand in yours, or somehow at least feeling completely trapped in your grasp they would manage, one foot after another, to follow your energized bouncing gait.
They would follow because it was no longer their choice. I mean, they had a choice obviously but most were ill-equipped to pull against the vacuum of your presence - now in motion pulling at everything in your wake. Something inside them, that positive vibe we all carry, had latched onto your positivity and courageous nature, fully wrapped in your adventure’s path.
Your nature which by now had undoubtedly--completely captivated their mind, heart, and soul. This captivation held heart in tow was compelled to follow your bouncing playful boot steps, the dancing sway of your hips as you jammed that song previously set into queue, and became ambushed by the joke previously declined.
In short order that entrancing spell of yours would deliver this new devout follower of your enchanting tune into a habitat of your choosing. Typically, an establishment with plenty of alcohol, a jukebox, and all hoping, a compliant and understanding bartender as they too were now a unwitting participant of your game; trapped behind their bar and under your playful smile stare.
“Hiiii! How is your day going? Are you almost off? What is your favorite part about working here? Do you have any stories, you know, something crazy that has happened? My friend here needs some cheering up - can you help me with that? I need two shots and two beers pweaseee! Thank you!” Hook line and sinker the game had shifted opening up a new front of bartender flair, and your smile stare, against the thing sapping the smile within the contender you were playing against. Three against one if you counted alcohol as a neutral contender its self…I will be sure to ask next time I see you.
“Now that you have some booze in your tummy, don’t you feel betters?!” As your counter offensive to this question was being packaged, activated, loaded, and locked into your response tube like a torpedo awaiting to be sent from a stealthy submarine. No matter what the response hurling your direction was going to be, you would be ready to again counter.
“Well! Keep drinking, and remember! No tears in your beer. We are big kids at play here.” By now a smile surely had cracked somewhere a long this line of play. And, you would be holding it hostage, somehow suspended in mid air between you and this person as a promise. A promise you made from that first empathetic wide eyed glistening smile that said you were playing a game and the goal was to keep that smile a float--a promise that you wouldn’t let it drop on your end; and you did not loose.
I appreciate all the times you played this empathy game and held that smile for me. I appreciate every time you launched into this game with all of our friends, strangers; anyone who needed to be reminded how to play. A game designed to remind the contender that big kids too can still play and our smiles are often being held by great friends when we have lost them.
That look of surprise at the end of the game when that person realizes their smile was hanging there, right in front of them the whole time like some magic trick. Just floating there, suspended in mid air by your smile stare is the prize and all players win. This game is now something I know how to play because of you. Thank you for making me your partner in this game over the years. This will forever be one of my favorite games and it has already painted some of those smiles for you in this world like I promised.
Hopefully this second chapter did it’s thing like you would and played the empathy game as it was read, bringing a smile to the tears that stain the pages of the first chapter for those who were surprised by your last dance. It sure wiped some of mine off my cheeks, love. Thank you - I needed a quick empathy game myself.
That memory, I suppose is the best way to approach this second letter to you. The second chapter of what I hope is a very playfully clumsy, bouncing, and all over the place recount of your chapters. Only under these conditions could it be told while capturing that part of your curious nature. Forever clumsy, but in a graceful somehow natural and not awkwardly stumbling, yet always bouncing back to its feet never missing a beet like you managed in your dance of silly quirks and beautiful natures.
So, I started with a surprise and at the end because never in my wildest dreams could I imagine leaving all of these beautiful people that will read your chapters with the heaviest part. It was not meant to be carried and the goal is to set its weight here and out of me at the start of your story to be left there. To be left there and ensure the sadness of your passing does not loom as your great story is being told.
It is not meant to be picked up or carried and only by starting at the end could I be absolutely confident the hardest part of your story was over for all of your new fans who will soon be doting over your antics.