The darkness was complete. Iyanna sat alone in its company, hugging her knees to her chest and crying silently, her face contorted into a mask of pain.
"I don't believe in superstitions. This is all an old wives' tale and-" she stopped. "And... and I..." She faltered miserably off into the depths of the cold darkness.
She felt around in the inky black, groping for a candle to light, to break the remorselessness of the night. She looked with her fingers, but her hands shook so badly she couldn't concentrate on anything but her unreasonable panic.
"God," she screamed, though the scream was unheard, "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God... If there is a God, save us now. God, save our lives. If you're real, if you're there, if you really do care about what happens to people, you've got to save us. Please-" Iyanna screamed suddenly. A wave of searing heat blasted her from just ahead. It was so hot, she felt it singe off her eyebrows and eyelashes.
Then everything was as it had been. Had she imagined that? She ran a finger along her forehead. Her eyebrows were gone. No imagining there.
"Hello?" she called, a hesitation catching her voice. No sound came out. She tried again. Still nothing. This time, she screamed it and put her hand in front of her mouth. Her breath was there, but no sound. She could feel her voice rumbling in her throat, but no noise.
The shaking grew to uncontrolable. She felt around in the darkness, but nothing was there. Not her bed, her nightstand, the waxy old candle that she had set there with a match, no window, walls... even the floor felt somehow different.
What happened? Where am I?
That's when it occurred to her. She was nowhere. Not nowhere as in, far away from people, but simply Nowhere, a place that wasn't. That meant she might be not too. It would definitely follow. But why would a person be not in Nowhere? Was she dead?
The mold. I am dead. I died. I died! I'm dead! Oh no, I'm dead!
She clasped her hands to her face, afraid, but realized that since she was not, she had no hands to clasp, no face to touch. She wasn't. Simple as that.
She realized that her heart wasn't pounding, that she wasn't blinking, that the reason her voice made no sound was because she had no voice and that in a place Nowhere, no voice could be heard.
She wasn't sure whether to be reassured or terrified.
Something stabbed her arm. She had felt that. What did that mean? Was she really not? How could someone who wasn't feel something that was? That didn't make any sense.
Her feet felt cold, cold and numb. She was coming back.
"She's coming to," a soft-spoke male voice said. Where were these people coming from? The world was still pitch black.
"Can you hear me?" The same voice said.
"I- yes." Iyanna said, her voice crackling.
"Can you open your eyes, sweetheart?" A female voice this time, farther away than the man.
Iyanna opened them, but it was still dark. "I can't see."
"Are you getting that down, Katia?" The man said. "My guess, ma'am, is that the vision loss is due to your illness. You suffered some major nerve damage."
Iyanna's head swam. Nerve damage? What was nerve damage? And she hadn't been sick. She'd been dead, but not sick. "Will I be able to see again?"
A shuffling noise. "I'm sorry; I don't know. Can I have your name, ma'am?"
"Iyanna." Iyanna's head was pounding now.
"How do you spell that?" Katia said.
She tried to say, "I don't know," but felt herself going weak, slipping from this real world back into a kind of Nowhere all over again... caught in a current beyond her control... falling into black...
Author's note: Bet ya didn't expect that! Anyway, Kylie may write the next part at http://www.reflections412.wordpress.com/, or I'll continue directly from my site. Either way, this is not the end, nor is it the last you've heard of my really strange storywriting skills. Check back soon! Sparks of illumination, C.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Craziest Thing I've Done With My Mom in a While...
Once upon a time, I woke up to the sound of my mom yelling down the heater vent (an approved venue of communication in my house) something to the effect of, "CATEY! GET UP!"
I turned over and tried to fall back asleep - it wasn't that I was trying to ignore her, I just dream things like that all the time.
And then the screaming started again. "Catey! Get up! Dr. Messingham wants to get your bands off today!"
My first thought: Who is Dr. Messingham?
My second thought: Bands + off = good news.
Dr. Messingham!!! Oh! Dr. Devinindisguise!!!! That meant I was getting my braces off today!
I was dressed and ready in record time (something ridiculously short for a teenage girl, that is) We zipped down into the Springs just in time to get to my ever-so-beloved orthodontist, who said that he could tell I wear my rubber bands (duh) and that my teeth looked great.
Then came the last episode of devilish torture that I shall hopefully ever have to endure. If you've ever had braces, you'll know that it doesn't hurt to get them on. It does hurt to get them off. Dr. Devilindisguise took his pointy red tail and sawed the brackets off one at a time and then shaved off the glue using the same caudal device. Ouch.
Then the dental hygienist woman shoved pond slime down my throat in order to make impressions of my teeth. (Note: It's not usually a good thing when the lady says, "Um... have you ever had impressions done? No? It's going to feel like it's going down your throat, but it's too thick to do that." So the only thing stopping me from certain death is the fact that the goop is so thick?? That's a really comforting thought.)
When I came back two hours later, they had made me two clear plastic trays that fit the shape of my teeth. I was given a five-page list of retainer care (no taboo foods!) and then sent on my way.
It was the same day as Chapter Meeting for CFC (Communicators for Christ). Since I was a student leader now (!) I had to come "professionally attired" (insert Catey gulping). I'm one of those people who ALWAYS dresses really nicely, but I have no professional clothing. I mean, I'm a writer for gracious sake. I do not need a suit. I'm not a debater, nor am I a competitor. I'd gone to the CFC conference with just my regular nice clothes.
But then it hit me. I may not be competing speech, but if I was to continue student leadering, I would need some business clothes for various platforms, depending on where I was going and what I was doing. So, my crazy wonderful mother and I decided to go shopping. It was sometime around noon, and we had just over an hour to get back home in time to pick up younger sister Carli and get to Chapter. So, after dashing all over Marshalls (which, in case you were thinking about trying to find clothes there, doesn't have any professional-looking skirts, slacks or blouses for under forty dollars for a size smaller than a fourteen...) So, my mother and I resigned to go look at the Dress Barn.
Yes, you read that right. The Dress Barn. Whoever thought up that name should be given major points for creativity but some serious downgrading for that particular selection. I felt like I should be buying cowboy boots or bandanas going into a store like that!
But there isn't anything of that kind in there. Actually, the clothes are a lot nicer than I'm accustomed to looking for (which is kind of a change, since I ALWAYS dress nicely) To cut a very long story short, we ended up not being able to find very much under a size 8 there either (grr). When we did end up finding something, it was this amazing grey suit that I liked very much. Again, smallest size was a size six. Unfortunately, I can't wear a size six. Then my mother had a brilliant idea. The mannequin! Surely that was a small size...
You guessed it. We made the poor store clerk (just another one of my random store clerk experiences) undress the mannequin so I could try on the suit. And, miracle of miracles, it actually fit! But we were so short on time by now that we actually had to ask the very nice store clerk lady if I could wear the suit out of the store!! I am firmly convinced that, separately, my mother and I are unusual, but together, we are entirely insane! I walked out of the barn with tennis shoes and no nylons, but I had my suit!
Hopefully that is the last entirely random and crazy thing my mother and I will do for a while. Hopefully...
I turned over and tried to fall back asleep - it wasn't that I was trying to ignore her, I just dream things like that all the time.
And then the screaming started again. "Catey! Get up! Dr. Messingham wants to get your bands off today!"
My first thought: Who is Dr. Messingham?
My second thought: Bands + off = good news.
Dr. Messingham!!! Oh! Dr. Devinindisguise!!!! That meant I was getting my braces off today!
I was dressed and ready in record time (something ridiculously short for a teenage girl, that is) We zipped down into the Springs just in time to get to my ever-so-beloved orthodontist, who said that he could tell I wear my rubber bands (duh) and that my teeth looked great.
Then came the last episode of devilish torture that I shall hopefully ever have to endure. If you've ever had braces, you'll know that it doesn't hurt to get them on. It does hurt to get them off. Dr. Devilindisguise took his pointy red tail and sawed the brackets off one at a time and then shaved off the glue using the same caudal device. Ouch.
Then the dental hygienist woman shoved pond slime down my throat in order to make impressions of my teeth. (Note: It's not usually a good thing when the lady says, "Um... have you ever had impressions done? No? It's going to feel like it's going down your throat, but it's too thick to do that." So the only thing stopping me from certain death is the fact that the goop is so thick?? That's a really comforting thought.)
When I came back two hours later, they had made me two clear plastic trays that fit the shape of my teeth. I was given a five-page list of retainer care (no taboo foods!) and then sent on my way.
It was the same day as Chapter Meeting for CFC (Communicators for Christ). Since I was a student leader now (!) I had to come "professionally attired" (insert Catey gulping). I'm one of those people who ALWAYS dresses really nicely, but I have no professional clothing. I mean, I'm a writer for gracious sake. I do not need a suit. I'm not a debater, nor am I a competitor. I'd gone to the CFC conference with just my regular nice clothes.
But then it hit me. I may not be competing speech, but if I was to continue student leadering, I would need some business clothes for various platforms, depending on where I was going and what I was doing. So, my crazy wonderful mother and I decided to go shopping. It was sometime around noon, and we had just over an hour to get back home in time to pick up younger sister Carli and get to Chapter. So, after dashing all over Marshalls (which, in case you were thinking about trying to find clothes there, doesn't have any professional-looking skirts, slacks or blouses for under forty dollars for a size smaller than a fourteen...) So, my mother and I resigned to go look at the Dress Barn.
Yes, you read that right. The Dress Barn. Whoever thought up that name should be given major points for creativity but some serious downgrading for that particular selection. I felt like I should be buying cowboy boots or bandanas going into a store like that!
But there isn't anything of that kind in there. Actually, the clothes are a lot nicer than I'm accustomed to looking for (which is kind of a change, since I ALWAYS dress nicely) To cut a very long story short, we ended up not being able to find very much under a size 8 there either (grr). When we did end up finding something, it was this amazing grey suit that I liked very much. Again, smallest size was a size six. Unfortunately, I can't wear a size six. Then my mother had a brilliant idea. The mannequin! Surely that was a small size...
You guessed it. We made the poor store clerk (just another one of my random store clerk experiences) undress the mannequin so I could try on the suit. And, miracle of miracles, it actually fit! But we were so short on time by now that we actually had to ask the very nice store clerk lady if I could wear the suit out of the store!! I am firmly convinced that, separately, my mother and I are unusual, but together, we are entirely insane! I walked out of the barn with tennis shoes and no nylons, but I had my suit!
Hopefully that is the last entirely random and crazy thing my mother and I will do for a while. Hopefully...
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Pure Brilliance
White snow
Falls into the black
That is my soul
The bloodstained hands
Reaching out toward
The sunset sky of
Despairing seas
Tossed by a windblown
Idea or unknown
Thought
Pure brilliance and
Love
The white of snow
Covers me
Holds me close,
Close submerges me in
Clean water like
The cool of icy white
And the forgiveness
Beginning
Of white snow.
I promise this is the last poem for a while.
Coming up next: Part III of the Purple Mold Trilogy...
Falls into the black
That is my soul
The bloodstained hands
Reaching out toward
The sunset sky of
Despairing seas
Tossed by a windblown
Idea or unknown
Thought
Pure brilliance and
Love
The white of snow
Covers me
Holds me close,
Close submerges me in
Clean water like
The cool of icy white
And the forgiveness
Beginning
Of white snow.
I promise this is the last poem for a while.
Coming up next: Part III of the Purple Mold Trilogy...
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Starlight
Silvery starlight
Dances from a hidden
Moonlit night
With silent hopeful hands
Outstretched toward
Leaping goals
So far from reach
In a deadly world of
Pain and misery
What one thing mirrors
Heartfelt glimmers
That thing which is beyond
All knowledge
All life and
Love
Without the pain,
Without the whimpering torment
Of another's lie
There is something
Beyond and
Perfect beyond
All measure
Hiding in the silver of
The starlight
Dances from a hidden
Moonlit night
With silent hopeful hands
Outstretched toward
Leaping goals
So far from reach
In a deadly world of
Pain and misery
What one thing mirrors
Heartfelt glimmers
That thing which is beyond
All knowledge
All life and
Love
Without the pain,
Without the whimpering torment
Of another's lie
There is something
Beyond and
Perfect beyond
All measure
Hiding in the silver of
The starlight
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