Jig-jolly-gee, jig-jolly-joo, jig-a-jig-a-jig-a-jig-BOO! Jig-a-jig-a-jig-a-jig-BOO! Stink-a-Stink-a-Stink-a-Stink-STOO!
This limerick is my hell. My never-ending chorus, my purgatory, my life with Lana.
She sings this taunting schoolgirl chant to Kailey, her dog. I pretend to do my homework.
I remember when I was 21 years old—it seems as distant now as a forgotten dream.
I had awoken on a dusty bus stop bench near a busy street corner at dawn. Blinding white light singed my eyes and I could see only pale shadows of people busily passing me. I felt a dull ache in my skull.
"Why do I do this to myself?" I sat up slowly and set my quivering feet to the ground. My head bowed to my knees, I breathed a deep sigh.
An old Mexican woman hit me with her bag. "San Ysidro?"
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I 'll still have to find a way to the sprawling Marine Corps Base I called home.
I could stow away on the trolley to downtown San Diego then, maybe, tell the Greyhound driver my wallet was stolen and hope he’d feel sympathy for me.
It 's all I can do.
There’s no one.
If I got arrested, a Tijuana prison, I would imagine: fingers broken by guards, lying in feces on a floor at night, food laden with hepatitis or worse.
No, I had to think about making it.
I could recognize the buildings now; we’re almost to Revolucion Street.
The summer air oppressively smothers the back of my neck; sweat dribbles down my brow and stings my eyes. I feel electric panic pulse through my spine.
My leaden arm reaches for the door handle, "Right here 's fine, man," I falter.
Not waiting for the cab to stop, I burst through the passenger door. Frantically, I sprinted on the air two inches above the asphalt. Breakneck. Thunderclap. I ran like rain in a storm.
I’m pulled back to this couch in Kenwood. Lana’s staring at me, “You’re drifting again.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about that Central Asia test this Friday,” I sigh.
“Uh-huh,” she raises her eyebrow.
I close my laptop and grab my pack of cigarettes from
I woke up unusually early so I decided to get ready then find out who Allison is. Allison,Beacon Hills,California------Search I found an article on an Allison Argent.
The once starry night now resembled a cluster of tiny white smudges engulfed by a grim lifeless mass. Just as my eyes were fully shut, I heard a distant yell, followed by a woman 's piercing shriek. My last thought, “What is happening to me.” “We need to evacuate the building.” “Wake the girl, we have to move, NOW.”
This morning was hell. The will to lift myself from my friend’s couch waned exponentially and spoiled my insides, costing me my first class of the day. Consciousness devolved into a haunted, sleepless void. I want to die. How my friends convinced me to get up that day, I don’t know, but every aspect of my surroundings was plagued with a layer of desaturation; my gut, caked with viscous contempt; my wrist, decorated with gnarled, carmine stripes.
Memories inscribed themselves into the body as well as the mind, and she trembled, muscles tightening, ten- dons and bones aching. She rubbed her legs and arms, face and neck, until her skin heated and relief set in. As a woman, she suffered for days and nights after exposure to the light of the sun. Headaches, migraines, throbbing lights, voices, voices of men, fingers, hands, and bodies writhing, terrible things being done.
I don’t understand why I’m being woken up. The desire to return to sleep so strong I nearly said a curse word. But in that moment a breeze blew in a mouth-watering aroma I didn’t want nor could ignore. My mouth was open to complain but my tongue sampled the scent and I was rendered speechless. I became so enveloped in the aroma that I barely noticed the coolness of the concrete floor nor the fact that I had even gotten up and walked to the kitchen table.
I was sweating out of every pour. I could feel Winston shaking and sweating we stood back to back barely touching. I thought about running for my life before it was too late no such thought occurred. We were standing in fear, as we heard a snap, and crash. “Boom,” then breaking glass.
“Ma 'am, I 'm gonna try my hardest ta keep myself straight. I might’ve fell off the wagon, but I’s got back up, didn 't I?” “Yes, sir, you sure did! “ “And, I’s a keep pickin’ myself up as long as I has y’all ta lean on…” “I talked with Henry last night and we have decided to move up to Cherokee County.
My pace quickens as I’m just about to burst, when I recognize my cul-de- sac in the distance. By then I was sprinting and the rage was enough to kill me. I bash through the front door of my quiet hopeless house, and jump over the railing of the stairs. I tore open my bedroom door throwing my backpack toward the wall as I confronted my savior. My ragged, old, patch work punching bag.
Sparks of excitement and stress exploded in my body as I opened the door. I took my first step to freedom then sprinted down the stairs almost tripping and falling flat on my face. I ran to nearest train station and hopped onto the back where i curled up in the corner waiting for the long road ahead. I didn’t know where this train was taking me and I didn’t know what I was going to do when I arrived
I reached an office block and began climbing up the stairs. I walked two steps at a time, my mind consumed with the thought of the beautiful act of rebellion I had committed. I reached the final flight of stairs, my lungs struggling inside my chest as I took those last few steps and ambled out onto the roof of the building. I staggered towards the edge of the building where I gazed across the fading landscape around me. I checked my watch: 6:07am.
The rest of the day was spent in solitary. That night I did manage to get what some would call sleep, but it was far from pleasant. At first, all I could see was a thick veil of darkness. Then I began hearing crying in the distance, like a lost soul adrift in the abyss of darkness. Then it cut off abruptly, only a suspended echo remaining.
Ordinarily Incomplete I know I am not an ordinary person. At the age of 16, I can do many ordinary things like others of my age. I am different, incomplete, divided in flesh and limb. One half of me is perfectly normal, the other imbalanced and cursed.
I’m anxious, deserted, concerned; I feel like there’s a darkness advancing closer to me. It feels dramatic and I feel my heart thumping. I see a car drive off. Australian Government written on the side. No way, please no.
The Storm Lightning crashes overhead as I race back into the house, dripping wet. I was just returning back from an adventure in the woods. The storm was unexpected, even the forecasters had never expected it. Luckily, I managed to make it back inside safely.