Our Voice Volume 7

The Lost One

  Roll a story

  By: HD

  The coldness is what woke me up. My mind, a churning river, awakened me fully. Where am I? Slumped against a small cave it was a hard stiff wall, oddly chained by my hands and feet. I was wearing though a big parka and other mountain climbing clothes. The mouth of the cave gave me my only light, finding why I was so cold. A blizzard raged outside, this cave seemingly a pocket in a mountain or high elevated place, I could feel it in my head. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even remember anything. Looking around I wondered how long I have been here. What crime could I have committed? With my shaky blue and black hands I feverishly touched my head. It was sore and covered in gashes and cuts, my heart pitter pattered when dry blood flakes showed on my hands. What happened? What had I done to be shackled in this prison like cell? A distant shuffling of feet sounded from the back of my confinement. I turned quickly then grimaced in pain from the snow blinding my vision. Hurriedly looking again, I found a tall figure with a man’s build covered by a gray cloak, concealing his eyes, only his nose and cheeks peeking through. Mouth and other features lost in a mysterious black shadow. He slowly advanced to the opposite wall of me as I stared in horror. What could I do? Taking his time he crouched down and revealed a cloth like satchel, laying out food in front of him. Not thinking I slowly scooted closer. My stomach seemed to have shrunk and was screaming for food, it hurt to even think about it. Finishing, he unpacked with actual warm drinks. I could see the steam coming off of the cups, making me yearn for it. Promptly he got up and moved to the back of the cave out of distance from my chain length. Maybe I was the monster... “Can I...” I started the sentence didn’t finish by biting into bread without his okay. Chewing, a tear rolled out of my eye and halfway down my cheek. This was the most amazing tasting bread I had ever tasted, the bottom still warm. It seemed as if I ate for hours, by the time I had finished the sky was turning a gray, then dark navy blue. The man having not moved, not even an inch. I leaned back against the wall and shivered from the storm. Even though I had food and was drinking the hot tea, the turning night was bone chilling. After his long perch he moved to the blackest parts of the cave where I could not see. I’m not sure how long he was back there but before I realized it he had built a fire. I blinked and then there, popping wood sounded. Although the flames flared I still could not see his face. Shouldn’t the light aluminate his face? It was becoming a struggle to keep my eyes open at this point. I suddenly felt a warm weight sinking in my stomach. Coughing violently it became it effort to catch my breath. I knew I hadn’t choked on the tea, but rather the tea was doing something to me. I hoped the food would stay down, but it hurt so bad that I eventually tried to throw up. The food staying put, a noise startled me to looking up. It was terrifying; a low rumble like someone was struggling to breathe. I glance and see the man’s nostrils flared, more gurgling erupted. He was…laughing. Oh god, he had drugged me! I was sure of it, why else would be take amusement in my suffering? I curled into a ball, rocking back a fourth trying to comfort myself. Why was this happening to me? The struggling became louder and more hysterical. I couldn’t open my eyes, I didn’t know if I was moving or not anymore. His insane laughing became sharp and painful, but I was already gone.

  I didn’t want to wake up, but I willed myself to. No dreams and I felt lost, completely lost. “Wait,” I spoke aloud my voice unfamiliar. My chains were gone! In fact not even trace of them, no bolts marks on the wall or chain scratches on the ground. The thriving fire last night was a memory. No ashes or burn marks on the ground either. I couldn’t tell what time it was, only that it was daytime and that was because of the white sheet at the cave opening, still blocked me from leaving. I hate this, I had nothing to do. Just wallow in an empty mind. The feast I had last night was already absent, feeling like I hadn’t even eaten. I had no supplies not even to climb down. I attempted standing but fell back down roughly with black blots on my vision. Dammit, I can’t take this! Crawling to a place visible in the cave I found sticks scattered around, maybe that fire had happened. As I gathered them I stared at the black part of the cave, fear rushing into my mind. I picked up my twigs quickly crawled back to my side of the cave, studying the sticks pathetically. You know...I’m that hungry. I examined the sticks one by one again before biting into the wood. Squeezing my eyes I fought down the brittle and dry wood, but It was all I had. Surprisingly I picked off the twigs one by one. Absently looking outside at the white blur, I dozed off and on that day. I tried to think. Laying my head in my hands my face screwed up, the scars still protruding throbbed. My hair was just a brittle cut, missing where the scares were. I didn’t feel or look like I was good shape. My fingers were stiff and were becoming less responsive. In boredom I took off my boots and socks. Gagging instantly as one of my toes fell off. Both feet were black from frost bite. I picked up my rock hard toe throwing it out in the storm. Gingerly putting back on my shoes I felt hopeless. I wonder if anyone would even know if I was lost. Wallowing in my pity I somehow heard a dull hum. Growing louder the familiarity became clear all at once, it was a helicopter! It was twilight by now and the sky was changing colors, it became easy to detect the strong light the helicopter gave out. I screamed in joy, not caring about that crazy gray man coming out. I wanted them to hear me, my legs wouldn’t work but I screamed out with my heart and happiness. The helicopter circled the mountain many times. I grew tired though from all my movement. I know they know I’m lost; it will turn out all right. I need to take a nap, and they will fine me, and this is going to be alright. Surprisingly, it didn’t take me l long to drift off in a haze of security.

  Blood is not a pleasant smell. Waking up to that was worse. My chains around my hands rubbed off the skin in my restless sleep. Every time I woke up I felt more and more tired. Wait, I wasn’t chained yesterday? How is this happening? Looking up I scanned the cave for the gray man. His back was to me, busy with something I couldn’t see. Ah! That smell it’s so strong. When I looked up the gray man was looking at me. I think. I still couldn’t see his eyes. Wrinkling my nose I breathed in through my coat trying to block it out. Something clattered, bouncing off the stone walls. His hands were stained with brown and red, a white chalky substance I believe was grounded rock floated in the air around him. Standing up I could tell his body language was different from the last time I saw him. Much more…crude. Stalking his way closer to me, I inched my way in the other direction. Heat rose under my coat for the first time. The gray man’s hands petrified me, they were arched and bent in arthritic ways. Like crazy man. Stopping he motioned to me. Realizing he was beckoning for me to come closer I frantically looked toward the opening wishing to fling myself off the edge. “Who the hell are you?” I quivered. Tilting his head like a lost puppy, I shockingly grew more curious. Was he trying to...communicate with me? Well he’s crazy, and probably the person who took me up here in the first place. “My God, you’re a mad man” I thought. Rising a pale long finger he tapped his lips. Well I think, the eerie shadow still covered his face. Then with a flurry the gray man started running frantically around, composing a fire. There was a lot of wood long and building up high. Is he trying to feast on me? I tugged on my chains until I reached the end of them. He made odd short sounds while making the fire, like talking to himself in a way. He picked up a long wooden staff and randomly stamped it against the ground. When he lit the fire, it grew very large; the flames licked the ceiling with orange, red, and white; sparks dancing with him wildly. He stopped and looked at me. Then bend down and hit the floor with both hands, humming a low and grating tune. He danced around the fire like he was preforming an Indian ritual. His song like voice grew louder and more intense every time he circled the fire. I tried squeezing my hands out of my cuffs but they were too tight helplessly making my wrists sting. What if he ate me?! His staff flailed wildly in the air like a maniac. I started panting with the heat piling in the very air. The dance was elaborate, but not natural. As if seeing me, h
e danced his way to me making motions and gestures. “I-I, no, I don’t understand you!” I got out. Leave me alone please, God, let this be over. He didn’t seem to care, his hums were now an inaudible shout, but muffled. It was as if his skin was being peeled away. Slamming his chest and danced around the circle again, ending by pointing his rod at me. Picking up his paints he attacked the wall with colors that mystified the air. It finally dawned on me that he was drawing. More howling erupted from him. It began to be an effort to handle this as the smoke filled my lungs, lulling me into a sleep like trance. I think gray man knew it too. He glanced at me and made those sounds of agony. Then stumbling away from the wall he opened up his arms, as if in approval. His artwork was of humans dying or killing each other. Humans killing animals or humans just killing each other in the most utmost terrible way. It showed humans ripping other people limb by limb and gathering their blood, smearing it on their faces and bodies. The animals hid, but the humans burned down entire areas poking spears and knifes into their bodies. I was pulled into a coma, I fought hard, seeing gray man clapping slowly. This is what hell is like.

  I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to wake up. But this feeling of death was knotting in my stomach. It was getting bad, very bad. I had to concentrate for long lengths to process what I was thinking. Last night’s events dropped on me like a bomb. Breath escaped my cracked lips. I didn’t think I’d have the strength to move, didn’t have any guts to face the gray man. But I wasn’t chained and that gave me some hope. I faintly heard the wind howl. It was lonely and lost. Just like me, I scoffed. A pressure settled in my stomach. “Ok, just move your finger, just one.” I crooned to myself. I repeated this for several minutes, “Ok now let’s try two, it’s going to be hard but I can do it. I can do it.” Ever so slightly I functioned to move. I needed anything to keep me going. Finding a rock I suckled on it, its journey to my mouth was long and drawn out. My teeth couldn’t break it down but anything was better than nothing. I had to fight myself to not think about food, physical pain bloomed when I did. As I lay there worthless I felt like sobbing. I wish I could remember anything, just a name from my past to keep me going. I bet the gray man did this, that lunatic. This was his entire fault, to all my misery. With nothing to do I dreamed of getting rescued, or saving myself. I made up scenarios in my head that maybe even God himself would come save me. I would retire to a forever summer land that never had gray skies and was at sea level as to not have the pressure squeeze my head. It wasn’t until it landed did I realize the helicopter was real. I felt my blood spike, my mind racing in agony, I made myself slow down. An emotion of pure hope visited me, I wish I could roll off the cave opening but it might lead me to my death, so I decided to stay put. I didn’t hear any shouts but the wind was roaring, most likely dominated their vocals anyway. As I waited, every second became bearing. What if the gray man appeared? He was still mysterious in his ways and he might take me away. Wishing they would hurry up I hanged on for hours. Often I woke up from not intended slumbers. I was exhausted with no energy. I prayed for them to find me. But as the snow changed to black and no sounds of the helicopter being departed I decided it was ok to sleep, nap. Just for a bit. If they thought I was dead? Surely they would check, wouldn’t they? Although with this uneasiness I instantly fell deeply into a sleep.

  The cold metal rubbed my skin uncomfortably. Not today I groaned. I knew I was going to die soon. What form of torture was this? Or punishment? It made me a little depressed ceasing to exist without figuring out what happened to me. I stay there in silence waiting for the gray man. I wished he would kill me because dying on my own was too hard. Mostly though I didn’t have much left to keep my soul going. The storm was still blazing, a non-stop argument between the skies and the ground, probably would cost me my life. Somehow and for some reason I opened my eyes. They were crusted by frost completely. Not a good sign if my body temperature was that low. I didn’t even have the power to rub my eyes. Blinking repeatedly, a familiar figure came into view. Gray man was sitting politely across from me leaning on the opposite wall, remained unmoving and quite as usual. I stared at him, still only his nose and cheeks peeking out of his hood. I yearned for answers but from the past I knew I would get nowhere. I noted that his pictures were gone, washed away to the polished gray slate stone. Dragging my eyes to gray man I searched for life in his form. No chest rises or fall, no glint on his eyes. Just a lost man. I zoned out focusing on what I was able to move on my command or not. The tip of my nose was past feeling warmth again and my legs still wouldn’t move. It was becoming numb, an odd sensation. What a life. Not an idea of what I look like, who I am, held captive in my body and mind. Lying with my enemy as civil, I imagine. Whoever searched for me probably gave up. Thought I was dead, which I could be very soon. “I hate you” I hope that was audible for him. Get him riled up, do something. Or maybe give me a little fight and do anything, he didn’t even react. Disappointment. That’s how the rest of the day went. Life was leaking out of me, but I don’t care anymore. I didn’t want to live if this is what it will be. Sadly when I woke from my unwilling rests of the day he hadn’t moved. The sky didn’t waver in its opposition, the wind aiding to my misery. Ever so slightly the sky turned dark deep blue, then black altogether. Gray man lit a fire, not sure how though. I never really did. I couldn’t think. Returning to his seat we sat together until embers were all that remained of the fire. I shivered and couldn’t stop. It was ok. I can die like this. Gray man lightly raised his hand. I almost missed it, he held onto his cloak for a minute. Then as I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing he peeled it back revealing his face. My shivering stop instantly, my mouth hung open in a soundless scream. I wanted to run long and far, but that was impossible and I was frozen. His bald head was so pale and shiny, hollowed sunken eyes that held yellow whites and his pupils so brown it looked black. The worst part was that his lips were sewn wholly shut by thread bound tightly against his disfigured lips. Beady eyes looked at me expressionless. A nonexistent ash like face, he was enough to make someone have nightmares for the rest of your life. Those beady eyes examined me for his final journey. Walking to the back of the cave and enveloped himself in darkness. I whimpered slowly but comfort was long gone, I don’t know how but I finally closed my eyes ruing the day I first opened them. Rue the day.

  It was not until after I died though that I realized that gray man was not real. A figment, hallucination that was what I made up to past time I guess. So was the helicopter. My name was Austin and I am lost in me. I became a desire of selfishness and fell into a menace of human kind and living. So I was sent away, and did what I was supposed to do. I died. It was not gentle, but that was life. And I could take that. I could die without living that.

  3 Things

  Hannah Kingsley

  The wind was howling and the trees were whipping back and forth causing shadows to cast down around us. The tent we were in was shaking, but still remained intact. We were inside cuddled up with our blankets and pillows trying our best to keep warm. We had to have picked the worst week to go camping. It was a low of 52 degrees in Indiana, and showed a 75% sign of storms, but what did meteorologists know?

  “Where’s Mandy?” Julian whispered to the rest of us. We then took the time to see that Mandy was in fact gone.

  “Who?” Sarah furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

  “The new girl, you know the one we invited out here so we would be friendly.” I mumbled. Sarah was still looking dazed like she had no clue who she was. “She’s in our Biology class and just moved here like two weeks ago. She has the long brown hair and is your lab partner.”

  “Ohh! I know her!” Sarah was such an airhead sometimes.

  “I’ll go out to find her. She’s probably in the bathroom fixing her hair.” Hayley stood up, saluted to us, and then disappeared. It had been several minutes and there was no sign of either one of them.

  “I’m going to go see what those fools are up to.
They probably are in the bathroom sneaking the last of our marshmallows.” Sarah rolled her eyes and unzipped the tent to leave. Now it was just Renee and I in the tent looking at each other with frightened expressions on our faces.

  An hour had passed and still no sign of any of them. We had decided to go out and face the abandoned camp ground together. I was the brave one to take a step onto the ground first. Outside there were leaves scattered on the muddy grass. There was a campfire to the right with the flames still burning turning the wood into scorching hot ashes. The sky was almost a coal black with streaks of lightening passing by every few seconds. There was the restroom building twenty feet in front of our tent. Crunch. Someone had stepped on a leaf, but it wasn’t Renee for she was still inside the tent; it wasn’t me either.

  “Hurry up Renee. Let’s just go to the bathroom.” We started walking to the girl’s restroom before we heard more footsteps behind us. Slowly, we turned our heads back to see who it was. As my eyes settled in on the person, a scream escaped my lips.

  There was a tall figure there with an axe as sharp as Albert Einstein’s brain. Her face was covered with white paint and had blue and red paints smeared like an abstract piece of art.Beady black eyes were fixated on us standing merely thirty feet away. What stood out the most were her creepy white teeth that were placed in a sinister smirk. She was not a clown dressed in colorful stripes with a tomato red wig that had curly messy spirals hanging down. Instead she was dressed head to toe in all white clothing. There was blood spattered across her outfit. At first she was still but after a minute of staring, she took a step forward. Renee and I turned and started sprinting to the bathrooms to try to lock her out. But we were too late. Mandy had gotten to us.

  First Line

  Hannah Kingsley

  When I look in the mirror I see a girl who’s broken beyond repair. She stands with her shoulders sagged, with her head bent slightly down. She’s above the normal height for most fifteen year old girls in their sophomore year of high school. Her hair is frizzy, with small pieces of hair framing her face. The blue tee shirt she wore is now tattered and baggy, just hanging there rested on her shoulders. Her light jeans that were once clean are now covered in grass stains and it looked like she had rolled down a muddy hill after a rainy day. Her skin is pasty and pale as if she were a ghost, but had bright red rosy cheeks as if she had just ran a mile in under six minutes. Tears silently roll down her face as though they were waves crashing against the sand. Her body is shaking with fear as she just stands there looking at herself through the shattered mirror.

  But the mirror only reflects what you want to see. To others she is a strong independent girl who doesn’t need anyone else’s opinions or thoughts. She has beautiful brown curly hair that flows down her back that everyone is envious of. Her eyes are a light emerald that shines like the sun on a summer day and they glow like a fire on a chilly fall day. The tee shirt hanging from her shoulders was still baggy on her but it is not torn and her jeans are still a faded blue like the sky above her. Her skin appeared to be sun kissed with rosy cheeks that were free from any tears. There was even half a smile dimly lit on her face. The girl in the mirror is every innocent girl that society tries to brainwash into thinking they need to do something to achieve something greater. Society wants to make us believe we need to change to be like the “perfect” people, but in reality there are none. When I look in the mirror, I see me, and me is good.

  Author Visit

  Hannah Kingsley

  Love is like being touched by an angel

  Just floating on cloud nine

  Love is having sweet moments to remember

  Just having someone to call mine

  Love is seeing only him in the crowd

  Just seeing how the sun will always shine

  Love is walking arm and arm laughing

  Just going on dates to dine

  Love is not all good though

  It’s bittersweet

  Love is testing the waters and being brave

  It’s just the right person you meet

  Love is being rejected and told no

  It’s just hurting like you’re hit with sleet

  Love is finding he’s moved on

  It’s just that you’ve been beat

  Love is cherished and many still search

  It’s just that they haven’t found someone so neat

  Love is for everyone

  But some find it like kerosene

  Some have experienced it

  And some are not so keen

  Love can make you dreary

  And start to lean

  At the end of the day love is the best thing.

  Poetry

  Hannah Kingsley

  Underneath the bridge at midnight

  A prince charming is trying to be a knight

  He waits for his beautiful lover

  Wanting to tell her there is no other

  Underneath the gray wool blankets at midnight

  There lies a princess saying night

  She cannot make it to meet him

  But her love for him is not dim

  Tick, tock.

  He went to see a clock.

  Half past three

  Where could she be?

  She was asleep

  Beep. Beep.

  He ran on his bare feet to her home

  He thought their love story was a tome

  He was saddened at what he saw

  All he could do was crawl

  She was frozen on the bed

  There was nothing to be said

  She was asleep

  Beep. Beep.

  Write A Round

  By: Hannah Kingsley

  A secret panel swung open, and then a passageway that smelled like last week’s lunch filled my nostrils making me cringe. Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I let my feet navigate my path. The hallway was narrow enough that I could just fit with dim lanterns on each wall across from the other. The walls were smeared a maroon red that was almost a dark purple. Over top was a black lace covering that was ripped and shredded like it had been raved. I could feel a stone floor beneath my feet, like an old medieval time castle.

  I followed the path, imagination running wild with the possibilities of where it led. Although the smell was foul, the secret tunnel had a mystic sort of feeling to it. Light was at the top of the stone path, and I quickened my pace. The blood red that was smeared against the walls were now fading until the walls were just a white like in a hospital room. When I reached the top, I could hardly believe my eyes. How was it possible to fit all of this in Mrs. Cornelius’s house?

  I was confused. I had scanned around at the entire vile, decrepit food that was stashed up here. I hear a blubbering that is echoing off of the walls nearby. I turn a corner where the muffled cries are heard at a fortissimo volume. As I keep promenading, the stench gets horrifying. There was a girl with a gray baggy t-shirt hanging loosely on her anorexic looking body. She looked as if she was about ten, just sitting in a corner with her back hunched over with streaming tears down her face. Next to her was a simple white circular plate with a molding piece of bread and a couple carrots that looked stale on it. There was a glass but nothing in it beside the plate. I start to back away when I heard a small voice.

  “Don't go.” I settle down next to her and observe her.

  “W-w-what happened?” I stutter. I look around for anything that looked to tell what happened to her but there was nothing. She began to tell me her story. I listened quietly, not asking any questions.

  “Okay, now it’s the time to toughen up. The place I was in was huge with high ceilings and dusty cobweb chandeliers. It was dimly lit up by a torch. I wanted to get out of here but I stayed and listened to the small child. I listened to her story as I tried to reason a way to help her escape. I was seemingly becoming paranoid waiting for someone to come across me in here. As t
he girl talked, I cut her off.

  “Can you walk?”

  Looking upset she carefully stood up. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Why would they do something this cruel? The girl said that she didn’t know a way out so she didn’t know how we would escape.

  “Just follow me. We will figure this out together.” I say reluctantly. I wasn’t sure if this was a dream I was having and that I would wake up or if this was actually real life and we were both in trouble. I latched onto her arm and clasped our hands together so it would be easier to navigate our way. An echoing noise suddenly erupted.

  “Stay right here. I’m going to go check it out.” I let go of her hand and crept out of the room. I peered over to the right and watched as someone began to walk towards the room. I run as quickly as I can to grab the girl. “We have to go!”

  We continued to hastily race for what feels like an hour. It felt like we were going in circles. We’ll never get out of here. I halted in a familiar hall where there was a door. I opened it slowly.

  “No, don’t open it. There are only three doors, one in, one out with good things and one with bad things. What if that one’s bad?”

  “Well I guess we will have to see now won’t we?” I opened the metal door to see nothing but a bright blue sky with puffy clouds and a bright sun glowing down onto us.

  “See, you’ve out now. We’re okay.”

  “I guess you were right.”

  We darted down the sidewalk like there was an ice cream truck at the corner by the Stop sign. Then, we took a right and ran back to my house where we contacted the police. The Cornelis’ were then charged with kidnapping and were sentenced to life in prison although I certainly don’t think that’s enough.

  Bus

  Hannah Kingsley

  6:30 pm. It’s time for Bingo Night! I downed a glass of pills that I had to intake everyday which was mandatory that were supposed to “help” me stay alive for a while. But what I keep telling the doctors is that I’m gonna go when I’m gonna go! They don’t listen and just keep prescribing me my medicine! Dumb docs! Anyway, I slowly got into the community bus that picks us up every Wednesday night and drops us off at the building where we gather for our bingo games. I sat down on the bus making sure I didn’t break a hip. On the bus, there was a young gentleman who was gazing out of the window at the Miami sunset.

  He looked quite magnificent with his cinnamon colored hair that was shaggy but not like Justin Bieber hair. I only know that because the ladies at Bingo talk about their grandchildren who listen to him. When he turned to see who had sat next to him, I saw his lime eyes that looked like all of the shades of trees in a forest. He then stretched his lips into a bright smile most likely because he thought old people were cute. News flash to him, I’m the only cute old person. Heavens! At the rate the driver was going I would never make it to Bingo on time!

  “Do you like black licorice?” The man turned and spoke to me as the bus was stopped picking up more old folks. I shook my head yes just to get rid of the young fellow and looked down at the book he’s reading, So you think you’re old? That’s awfully strange seeing how he’s at least sixty years younger than me. All of a sudden the odd boy stands up and starts shouting how he is going to be the champ at Bingo Night tonight. All of the old farts like myself were turning the volume down in our ear pieces so his yelling wouldn’t damage our hearing even more.

  When he sits down, he’s scribbling down what looks like Chinese on a filthy torn piece of old paper. I look away when he makes eye contact with me. He seemed like a lovely boy, but he also acted like a crazy person so I didn’t want to risk going to Bingo. I felt a light object fall into my lap. As I looked down, I saw the piece of paper with Chinese scribbling in every direction. I could not understand what it was saying so I just simply nodded my gray weave at the younger teen.A ringing noise had started to occur and as I curiously peeked my head around, I had found out it was the boy. He stomped onto his phone, breaking it into multiple pieces.

  The teenager gestured out the window to a red licorice factory and made a slice against his neck as if he was a terrorist from the black licorice faith and he was trying to demolish the red licorice faith. I just took my cane and moved it to his side to try to block him out of my mind. He’s such a weird fellow. Suddenly, he leaped out of his seat and darted for the back escape route. Without stopping he plowed through the doors and skipped to the red licorice factory.

  After he was gone, I looked down and found another note in my lap so I carefully opened the psychotic man’s wrinkled piece of paper. It read: Have a nice time losing at Bingo tonight old lady.

  Well I will surely have a splendid time winning I do believe.

  Bus Story

  Hide and Seek

  I gripped my cane and purse when the bus stopped. Why does the bus keep stopping? I’ll be late for Bingo if this keeps up. The girls will be so mad at me. I knew that I shouldn’t have taken the bus this morning. My hubby should have taken me, if only he wasn’t snoring on the couch with beer cans around him like a blanket. A guy from a basketball team plopped down in the seat in front of me. His skin was tan and his hair looked like a birds nest. It had so many different tints of blonde. He sure looked like a fine piece of eye candy. If only I didn’t have a husband ha-ha.

  The boy stood up quickly and nearly startled me. He gripped the edge of his seat as his honeycomb eyes surveyed the crowd. This young fella was looking for someone, but who I wonder. I observed his Adams apple bobbing before he spoke.

  “Do you value your lives?” The crowd ignored his words. They went on with their small talk. He surveyed the crowd when he stopped on mine. I gripped my purse tighter, ready to smack him silly with it if he tried anything.

  “You miss; do you want to start over?” A folded up piece of paper fell from his jacket and landed on my lap. The boy pointed to the teenage girl sitting next to me. She had been quiet this whole time. Her fish like eyes looked up at him confused. The girls’ hair was tied back in a small black bun.

  “P-Please sit down sir. You’re causing trouble.” This girl looked deathly afraid as she spoke. I saw a hint of blush arise from her cheeks. She likes the eye candy too. This eye candy though, was acting like one of those crazy folk where I used to live. Could he be one of those spokesperson that try to get you to buy their products? What has this world come to?

  I felt the bus come to a complete stop, making the boy fall back in his seat. My eyes trailed outside, only to see another bus stop. The girl beside me rose off of her seat and hurriedly walked to the door. She didn’t look back as she exited the bus. I loosened the grip I had on my purse and tried to relax. The aching in my bones didn’t help against the jerking of the bus. A couple minutes passed before the empty seat beside me became occupied again. The boy from before took her place. He smiled warmly at me. His smile seemed to pinch at my memory.

  “Do you want to start over?” The question he asked resembled the words of someone I knew when I was a young’un. We used to play on the farm. He was around my age with outgrown bleach blonde hair. I remember him moving his hair away from his eyes while chasing me around the farm. We would play all sorts of little games. He would always try to play the hero. I would either be the villain, or the girl in distress. I remember his deep honeycomb eyes would sparkle with happiness when he slayed the imaginary dragon. Those were some good memories.

  My memory shifted to the last time I saw him. We were in the barn playing hide and seek. I had to find him because I lost at rock paper scissors. I hadn’t known the rules of the game at the time, but I went along with it. How hard could the game be?

  I closed my eyes, faced the house’s wall and began counting. In the background I heard the door to the barn open hastily. I chuckled and counted to ten three times. Once I was done I opened my eyes and began my search for him. Time flew by as I was searching fo
r him. I had no idea what time it was until my mother came looking for me. She ran up to me and asked me what I had been up to. I told her that I was playing hide and seek and was looking for my friend.My mother’s face became worried. In an instant the whole town was searching for him. I had thought that they were joining in on our game. I didn’t think anything of it then. We searched all night and the next day. He was never found.

  “Good afternoon Nina. Where are you heading off to on such a fine day?” I looked at the boy stunned for a moment. His formality had change abruptly from his nervousness.I took my purse and wacked him with it. He gave out a gasp and tumbled over in the seat. I don’t carry this purse for nothing.

  “It’s Mrs. Baron to you boy! Who do you think you’re talking to?” I scowled at the boy. He gave out a light chuckle and sat upright in his seat.

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Baron. I just wanted to see you again.” I looked over at him confused.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you around here before.” I prepared myself to hit him again, but his response threw me off guard. He put his hand to his red jersey hurt, then smiled sadly. The boy looked over at the bus doors. I felt the bus come to a sudden stop. The doors mechanically swung open. The boy stood up from the seat and looked back at me.

  “It was nice talking to you Nina. Auf Wiedersehen, meine freund.” He smiled and strolled to the front of the bus. His eyes grazed at the crowd before departing. I was dumbfounded by his words. No one from America speaks German anymore. The lad was probably a foreigner. I didn’t give any thought about it. He was only being polite to an old lady.

  I felt my eyes trailed down to my lap. There was a folded up piece of paper that the boy had dropped earlier. I had completely forgotten that he’d done that. My shaky hands picked up the piece of paper and fiddled with its folding. The paper was worn with some color on it. Once I got it unfolded I tried reading the small, black, blurry letters. I gave a frustrated sigh as I pulled the paper inches from my face. The words read: You found me. -Viktor

  Child’s Play (Author Visit Poem)

  I see this person over there

  Inside the mirror is a killer

  Who smells of blood and burnt hair

  Its hysterical laughter is a chiller

  Like the crows singing in the winter snow

  Is what leads its captives to him

  They will never know

  That their fate becomes grim

  Their screams only seem to show

  That this child’s play is only pay back

  For that day so long ago

  And their existence fades to pitch black

  Another one is down below

  Now there’s nothing to hold it back

  Poetry

  #1

  Behind the crack in the wall

  There’s a world so big and dark

  It’s a place where people fall

  That way they can’t lurk

  Their screams fade away

  Like the ending of a song

  They’re now faraway

  To the place they belong