I Had a Dream

"Doctor, I think something is wrong. I can't ever feel my pulse when I check for it."

"We can help you with that. We will just need to open you up."

I'm laying on the operation table.
Take the scalpel to my skin.
Peel back the skin, crack open my rib cage.
Hands dive inside as they search for my heart.

"We're sorry to inform you ma'am, but your heart isn't beating.
Your lungs have stopped working
And we believe you have no liver."

"That's a lie! Let me see the proof!"

I yell, sitting up, frustrated.
They take out my dead heart
And show it to me.

"Oh, well what do you know."

TIME

I look over my shoulder to it, sitting under the shade of the sagging tree, smoking a cigarette. It doesn’t notice me- its acne infested face looking off into some other direction. Its buzzed hair not moving in the wind that whips at my cheeks. I take a deep breath, prepare myself, crouch down slightly, and run. I run like my life depends on it. Because in some weird way, I think it does. Here it comes… I’m reaching the end of the field… I close my eyes in hopes that I will finally be able to break free. The millisecond my big toe stretches past the grassy field, I am thrown backwards. It sounds like I ran into a giant building made of jell-o. The strange scene outside ripples, then relaxes as I am flung across, landing in an awkward position on my neck. A fall that should have broken my neck. I should be dead. It looks at me, and cackles, its voice breaking as it flicks its cigarette butt at me. Immaturely, I stick my tongue out at it as I rub my neck. It’s not sore though. I rub it out of impulse. In reality, it should be sore. Just like it should be broken, and I should be dead.

It won’t stop laughing as its voice deepens, and the acne sucks in on itself and retreats back into its skin. A change I’ve always found disgusting. Now it’s a cruel business man chuckling at me, smoothing his hand down his paisley tie which goes awkwardly with his brown suit. I grit my teeth and stare back out at the stranger world I desperately try to get back into. I don’t know what I’m trying to escape from, or what I’m trying to escape to. All I know is right now I stand in a field with Time, staring out into where there should be a sky, but really it’s a light fixture surrounded by ceiling tiles. I sigh as the fluorescent bulb in the light fixture flickers. I have spent countless days now staring at the six ceiling tiles and the light that is collecting dead bugs. I know it’s my only escape, but I can’t get there.

Its laughing still hasn’t ceased. It’s now a high pitched, wheezy giggle. I turn on my heel to look at the ugly withered old man. Clear snot trails down from his crooked nose and drool escapes from gaps between his teeth, oozing down his chin to soak into his thin shirt. My lips curl in disgust at Time. I can hear family members talking faintly in my ear on occasion. I want to say something. Something simple, like “Hello” or maybe even “Help”. But my voice is the music box that can’t be wound up again. Needles prick my skin and doctors poke me in the most uncomfortable ways possible. I can tell its doctors. Their giant masked faces loom in my mind’s eye when these strange sensations overwhelm me.

Time makes an ugly baby. Fat cheeks, pudgy arms and legs with an overly round belly make it seem innocent, but its grey eyes are filled with mirth. Time smacks its lips as it kicks its feet in the air. The repetition of its smacks reminds me of a clock. I pace back and forth, cracking my knuckles.

I hear something now. It sounds like a drum. No, it’s a heart beat. Ba bump. I can’t tell where its coming from. Ba bump. Its getting louder. Ba bump. Louder and louder. Ba bump. I keep trying to pace and ignore the pounding. Ba bump. My face twists in concentration and sweat forms on the back of my neck. Ba bump. Just ignore it. Ba bump. It will go away eventually. Ba bump. My stomach is a pit and I feel my legs shaking. Ba bump. I trudge on and I’m having to drag my heavy feet. Ba bump. Keep going. Ba bump. Keep going. Ba bump. Ignore it. Ba bump. The pounding has me on my knees. Ba bump. I’m crawling, crawling away from the heart beat. BA BUMP. I choke out a simple world:

“Stop”

And I am left panting on the ground. Silence. I sit back on my heels as off in the distance I can hear the low whine of a heart monitor (in C sharp) go off. I grope my chest, and I feel no rhythmic beating of my heart. My head hangs in shame and defeat as Time waddles up to me. He removes his thumb from his mouth and grins, showing the two front teeth missing. I cry, and Time wraps its toddler arms around me.

Jed: During Reception 2

Jed was hiding behind one of the ivy covered brick pillars, sucking on a freezy

pop. Her lips were currently tinted blue and were in the process of turning red. Emily was offering her an entire box of freezy pops if Jed kept out of trouble and stuck to the back of all rooms, but Jed was starting to get impatient. A freezy pop can keep you entertained for only so long, you know. Jed looked down at her Mickey Mouse watch. Mickey had a large smile, and his two arms were crossed in a position that seemed to be quite uncomfortable.

She barely noticed when her mother briskly walked out into view. There was someone else out there. He was a tall, muscular man with a clean shaven face and short brown hair. There was some hushed talking on her mother’s part, a confused look on the stranger’s face. Now things were getting more interesting for Jed.

“Do you remember anything at all?” Emily asked, sounding frustrated. The guy shifted his weight to the other foot, taking a moment to think.

“Oh yeah! You’re the chick who dropped those hot garlic mashed potatoes on my crotch!” he said, his face brightening with realization. In contrast to him, Emily’s face fell, with an expression of complete disbelief.

“Are you serious?!” her voice had gone up an octave or two and cracked mid sentence.

“No drunken night comes to your mind from ten years ago? No drunken night 7 months later? Does the phrase: ‘Here’s twenty dollars. Buy a nice house for you and kid’ ring a bell at all?!”

Jed was trying her best to pay attention, until she saw a daddy long legs crawl over her foot and now she studied the spider rather then the dialog going on. The conversation went on longer. It seemed to get more heated, more frustrated and confusing.

“You have a nine year old daughter in this world, and I think it’s high time you come into her life!” Emily’s voice was a deadly hiss as she jabbed her finger into his chest. He winced, and rubbed his sore spot as Emily stomped back to the reception. Her aura said: death to anyone who talked to her.

Jed was frantically sucking on plastic now, her juicy ice long gone. Her eyes were wide as she stared at this man who was… her dad?

“What does mom mean by ‘drunken nights’?” Jed suddenly asked, her voice slightly scratchy from lack of use. The man turned around to look at her, and his eyes widened. His mouth formed silent words as he stared at Jed, and Jed stared back at him. Jed made it into a staring contest. And he was good at not blinking. It was just a question really. She didn’t understand why he took so long.

“H-hey kiddo.” He said, the words rolling off his tongue awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

“Jed Corey Garrison. I was born on January 29^th. And I like freezy pops,” she said, producing the mangled plastic.

“Danny Kingler. My birthday is August 7^th. I like…. erm... I like soda.”

Jed looked up at the Danny. It was an awkward silence between them, but Jed seemed oblivious to it. She inserted her freezy pop wrapper back in her mouth, grinding it between her molars.

“So… what are you doing to keep yourself entertained?” Danny asked her eventually.

“I watch Mickey.” Jed showed him her watch. Danny cleared his throat a couple of times. He scratched the back of his, sighing several other times.

“Um… did you hear the conversation between your mommy and me?” Danny hoped with all his might she would say: “That’s not my mommy!”

“She’s not ‘Mommy’.”

Relief.

“She’s Mom. Only babies say ‘mommy’”

The relief was short lived.

“So then you did hear Mom and me talking?”

Jed nodded her head. “What does ‘a drunken night’ mean?” she asked again.

Danny squatted down next to Jed, and tried his best not to compare this little girl’s features to his own.

“A drunken night includes… Jack Daniels. And some Sam Adams.”

“Who are they?”

“Friends.” Danny said quickly. “And maybe a mistake or two.”

“What kind of mistakes?” Jed asked, sucking intently on her plastic wrapper.

“What… kind?” Danny’s face turned a slightly rosy color. “The kind… where… you drink too much pop and eat the candy that your mom said you can’t eat.”

Jed nodded her head, her gaze diverting off into another general direction. Suddenly her eyes went wide and she leaned in close to Danny. “Do you want to hear a secret?” she asked.

Danny nodded. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Well. Sometimes, Mom has had a really hard day at work, and when she comes home she doesn’t talk at all. Then at night, when she thinks I’m sleeping, she will come into my room and cry. And she says stuff like ‘You’re not a mistake’.”

Another long silence came over the two. Danny didn’t know what to say to her. He stared at this nine-year-old little girl. This fatherless, nine-year-old little girl. This fatherless, foreign, strange, nine-year-old little girl. And he heard the DJ’s voice come from the reception room.

“They are… the Father-Daughter song is playing.” He said and Jed smiled. He had freckles across his nose, just like her. Her mom didn’t have any freckles.

“Do you want me to be your dad tonight?” he asked, and Jed nodded her head.

“Does it have to be just tonight?” she asked, and Danny shrugged.

“Maybe not. Maybe I can be your daddy tomorrow too. We’ll have to look into that.”

“Okay. But I don’t know how to dance.”

”Daddy will teach you.”

Jed: During Reception

Okay, so I'm not entirely happy with this. And I need some more meat to the last conversation between Jed and Danny. I'd appreciate it if you guys could give me some suggestions for what else they could chit chat about.

Jed was hiding behind one of the ivy covered brick pillars, sucking on a freezy

pop. Her lips were currently tinted blue and were in the process of turning red. Emily was offering her an entire box of freezy pops if Jed kept out of trouble and stuck to the back of all rooms, but Jed was starting to get impatient. A freezy pop can keep you entertained for only so long, you know. Jed looked down at her Mickey Mouse watch. Mickey had a large smile, and his two arms were crossed in a position that seemed to be quite uncomfortable.

She barely noticed when her mother briskly walked out into view. There was someone else out there. He was a tall, muscular man with a clean shaven face and short brown hair. There was some hushed talking on her mother’s part, a confused look on the stranger’s face. Now things were getting more interesting for Jed.

“Do you remember anything at all?” Emily asked, sounding frustrated. The guy shifted his weight to the other foot, taking a moment to think.

“Oh yeah! You’re the chick who dropped those hot garlic mashed potatoes on my crotch!” he said, his face brightening with realization. In contrast to him, Emily’s face fell, with an expression of complete disbelief.

“Are you serious?!” her voice had gone up an octave or two and cracked mid sentence.

“No drunken night comes to your mind from ten years ago? No drunken night 7 months later? Does the phrase: ‘Here’s twenty dollars. Buy a nice house for you and kid’ ring a bell at all?!”

Jed had begun to tune herself out once more. This stuff was getting boring, and she had no idea what her mother was talking about, or how she knew this man. The conversation went on longer. It seemed to get more heated, more frustrated and confusing.

“You have a nine year old daughter in this world, and I think it’s high time you come into her life!” Emily’s voice was a deadly hiss as she jabbed her finger into his chest. He winced, and rubbed his sore spot as Emily stomped back to the reception. Her aura said: death to anyone who talked to her.

Jed was frantically sucking on plastic now, her juicy ice long gone. Her eyes were wide as she stared at this man who was… her dad?

“What does mom mean by ‘drunken nights’?” Jed suddenly asked, her voice slightly scratchy from lack of use. The man turned around to look at her, and his eyes widened. His mouth formed silent words as he stared at Jed, and Jed stared back at him. Jed made it into a staring contest. And he was good at not blinking. It was just a question really. She didn’t understand why he took so long.

“H-hey kiddo.” He said, the words rolling off his tongue awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

“Jed Corey Garrison. I was born on January 29^th. And I like freezy pops,” she said, producing the mangled plastic.

“Danny Kingler. My birthday is August 7^th. I like bee- erm... I like soda.”

Jed looked up at the Danny. It was an awkward silence between them, but Jed seemed oblivious to it. She inserted her freezy pop wrapper back in her mouth, grinding it between her molars.

“So… what are you doing to keep yourself entertained?” Danny asked her eventually.

“I watch Mickey.” Jed showed him her watch. Danny cleared his throat a couple of times. He scratched the back of his, sighing several other times.

“They are… the Father-Daughter song is playing.” He said and Jed smiled. He had freckles across his nose, just like her. Her mom didn’t have any freckles.

“Do you want me to be your dad tonight?” he asked, and Jed nodded her head.

“Does it have to be just tonight?” she asked, and Danny shrugged.

“Maybe not. Maybe I can be your daddy tomorrow too. We’ll have to look into that.”

“Okay. But I don’t know how to dance.”

”Daddy will teach you.”

300 Word Story V. 2

Sally lay in her bed, curling and uncurling her toes, her hands clenched around the sheets that were pulled up to her nose. This year was the year. The year that Sally would finally see him. The Easter Bunny.

She pinched her cheeks routinely, staring up at the ceiling with high hopes. Her childish excitement could barely be contained and she would occasionally giggle to herself.

It was 3 in the morning. Her eyes were heavy. She couldn't- Wait- what was that? There it was again. It was a heavy thump. Her parents didn't walk like that. And her baby brother? Well, he couldn't walk period.
Another thump. Sally carefully pushed back her thick princess blankets and dangled her feet above the floor.

A gasp, a choked back cry, and a strangled sigh. She slid off of her bed and made the long trek to her door and peeked through. Nothingness. Just the lone light coming from the nightlight plugged into the wall. Her palms were getting clammy and she rubbed them on her shirt.
Easter bunny. Think of the Easter bunny. Her slippered feet shuffled across the wooden floors to her parent's room and she twisted the metal knob. The door swung open on its own accord and Sally held her breath.

A hunched over... rabbit thing... stood next to the king sized bed. It turned its furry head over to look in Sally's general direction. It was shaking, and tufts of fuzz were missing, showing ugly gray bald spots. Its pupils were dilated. Its small, bulgy eyes blood shot. Blood dripped down its chin and its clawed hands reached up to clutch its chest. Sally stood, staring as it stretched out its hand to her, two tin-foil wrapped chocolate eggs sitting in the palm of its hand.

"Easter bunny?"

300 Word Story

Sally lay in her bed, curling and uncurling her toes, her hands clenched around the sheets that were pulled up to her nose. This year was the year. The year that Sally would finally see him. The Easter Bunny.

She pinched her cheeks routinely, staring up at the ceiling with high hopes. Her childish excitement could barely be consumed and she would occasionally giggle to herself. Oh, she was diabolical.

It was 3 in the morning. She couldn't- Wait- what was that? There it was again. It was a heavy thump. Her parents didn't walk like that. And her baby brother? Well, he couldn't walk period.
Another thump. Sally carefully pushed back her thick princess blankets and dangled her feet above the floor.

A gasp, a choked back cry, and a strangled sigh. She slid off of her bed and made the long trek to her door and peeked through. Nothingness. Just the lone light coming from the nightlight plugged into the wall. Her palms were getting clammy and she rubbed them n her shirt.
Easter bunny. Think of the Easter bunny. Her slippered feet shuffled across the wooden floors to her parent's room and she twisted the metal knob. The door swung open on its own accord and Sally held her breath.

A hunched over... rabbit thing... stood next to the king sized bed. It turned its furry head over to look in Sally's general direction. It was shaking, and tufts of fuzz were missing, showing ugly gray bald spots. Its pupils were dilated. Its small, bulgy eyes blood shot. Blood dripped down its chin and its clawed hands reached up to clutch its chest. Sally stood, staring as it stretched out its hand to her, two round robin eggs sitting in the palm of its hand.

"Easter bunny?"

55 word Story V2.0

Adrianna was there when David walked in the door.
"Where's the extra house key?"
She was irritated. He shrugged, listless.
"I dunno."
"You probably left them at her house!"
She hissed.
"What?! Who's 'her'?"
"Screw you! You're cheating on me!"
Adrianna swung her purse at him. The key fell out and clattered to the floor.

Untitled by Anonymous

What would my life be like if it were a book? I wonder if I were a character imprinted on paper if I would be able to understand the thoughts going on inside me. Or would everything be just as abstract and incoherent as my life really is? Would it be in third person, or would I be telling the story? How would you condense me life into a few words to a make a title that summarizes my life?

The birth, terrible twos threes and fours, puberty, angsty teenage years, college life, marriage, kids, over the hill, menopause, grandchildren, arthritis, hip problems, deterioration and ultimate death of Mackenzie Branch

Right. Not a very good title. So what would be the title? Who would write it? A friend? A relative? An enemy? A stranger? God? Death? Or some random voice that simply narrates the entire world? I think I will just leave my life untitled. By anonymous.

55 Word Story

She was waiting for him when he walked in the door.
"Where's the extra house keys?"
She hissed. He shrugged.
"I don't know."
"You probably left them at her house!"
"What?! Who's 'her'?"
"Screw you! You're cheating on me!"
She swung her purse at his head. The keys fell out and clattered to the floor.

Her (final version)

She sits across the tiny room
Legs crossed
Hands folded
Eyebrow cocked
One corner of her mouth
pulled up
in an
interrogating
sideways
smile.
The smile that says:
“There’s more to you
that you’re not telling me”

And that dreaded gaze.
That horrible
Dreaded
Gaze.
It’s friendly
but it’s trying to pick me
a
p
a
r
t
Piece by piece.

No one has ever done that to me

I avoid it
reading the spines of her books
I almost have their order memorized
Schizophrenia, OCD, Bi-Polar, Multiple Personality Disorder
Anxiety
Depression

But she keeps gazing
keeps picking

She chips away at the broken edges of my shell
Pulls away the frayed edges of my cover

And she breaks me open
I spill
all over.
I smear across the walls.
I am smudged into the carpet.

And then the pill.
The tiny pill.
The pill that contains
happiness?
Yes.

Procedure:
Open mouth
Insert pill
Close mouth
Swallow

c o n t e n t m e n t