Hello world!

Hi guys! This is my first wordpress post (yey!). Although I’ve had this blog for 3 years, I’ve never really posted anything here but inspiration has finally struck ( I actually have 2 other sites, Randomly Creative and Souled Out) and I finally know what to do with this blog site. I’m hoping it’s going to be a sum total of who I am, which is a writer, a singer-songwriter, a poet, an artist, a scientist; and above all, an intellectual. I’m really excited to see what’s in store and I hope this this goes really well! Thanks for your continued support in Randomly Creative and Souled Out and I hope this will turn out just as good as those two, if not better.

❤ XO

YVONNE.

Advertisements

UNTITLED

I stood there and I watched as you picked up your guitar,
It was a brown guitar, Yamaha,
I thought it was quite lovely,
More so how you strummed it,
Gently,
Sweetly,
Tenderly,
Forever burnt in my memory as if it were yesterday,
You started at Am,
That’s where you find your pitch, you said,
I was seated, waiting, as everyone else was,
Waiting to hear you sing.
No one could’ve been eager than I was,
I was at the edge of the bed,
Waiting, waiting,
Waiting to hear you sing.
You looked up and right into her eyes,
A loving stare, a begging stare,
A stare held perfectly enough within time,
Crossing not over the border to creepy,
And I watched as she looked away,
And you looked back at your guitar and started to play.
You didn’t sing,
Disappointing, it felt,
But there was always next time,
Another sang as as you played.
It was all over soon,
The bell went and off we all were,
I thought about what took me there,
Why did I come, I asked myself,
Did I have something to prove, and to who?
I wanted everyone to see that I was normal,
Maybe even not bland,
But I wasn’t normal,
And I wasn’t bland either,
And you saw that.
That was the day I learnt that no matter how many stickers were on my guitar, you’d still think it was awesome.
And the stickers were many.
The big Cinderella/Snow White one at the back,
The sparkly name stickers at the front,
The big scary skull at the front,
The blue and silver sparkly dolphins,
The skeletons and the machetes.
Looking back,
We did start from the finish line,
My phone soon flooded with Ed Sheeran and Daughtry,
Yours soon flooded with…every genre of music?
One day we were dancing in the rain,
The next I was giving you relationship advice,
The next we were drowning down samosas with juice,
The next we were soothing our gut with ENO,
We were so very alike,
Yet so very different,
We made up stuff as we went(but we both know I’m the better storyteller)
And hell, we couldn’t promise the future, but we lived like there was no tomorrow.
We were not friends, we were patners,
Mostly in crime,
We waged our wars,
We shared our victories,
As we celebrate that, there’s just two things that are perfect for the moment:
Here’s to never getting married and never having kids!
Cheers!
ps.
I might be the rat that’s been terrorizing you’re fridge :-0

THE TALE OF THE RAGGED YOUNG BOY

He stood there, with his hand outstretched. There was a ragged charm about him. I was instantly drawn to him. I stopped where he stood and greeted him.

“Hi! I need to get home and I don’t have any money,” he started.

“Well, if you don’t have any money then how are you here?” I asked him.

“You see, I go to school at the primary school within the university. My mother works here and after school, I go get bus fare which is 20Ksh from her. Today she wasn’t there, you see. I’ve waited for her but she didn’t show up. I need to get home so that I can open the door for my sisters and give them food and then we eat together. I’m only asking for 20Ksh,” he said.

I sighed. 20Ksh wasn’t a lot of money, I probably had coins in my pocket, but I was also hungry and the noon sun was burning me up and 20Ksh would get me a cold fruit drink which would then give me the energy I very much needed to walk home and get some food as my classes for the day were done. I hadn’t gotten to have breakfast that morning and the heavy backpack I carried made me slouch. I shifted from foot to foot to even the weight and looked up.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Ruiru,” he said.

True, that was 20Ksh away. I wiped the trickling sweat off my brow. I was starting to feel dizzy. I became aware of people watching as they walked on by. The boy had been there, you see, and no one had stopped. I supposed they were looking at me because I had. I shook my head and slipped my hand into my pockets. “20Ksh you say?”

“Yes,” he answered.

I found a 50Ksh note in my pocket. I thought of the long walk home and how hungry and thirsty I was and how tasty the cold fruit juice was going to be; but then I thought of that little boy whose mother had probably had him at a time that wasn’t convenient for her probably because she was supposed to be studying and not carrying a pregnancy but still had him anyway, and his sisters too, and now does all she can to scrape by. “Beware, first years, most students drop out of school within their first year, mostly due to unplanned pregnancies,” we had been told at matriculation. But he could also be a con artist, a very young one. I sighed and looked at him. He was believable, but isn’t that the most crucial part of pulling off the con? I thought of his supposed hungry sisters waiting to be let into the house. I looked down at the note again, then I stretched out my hand and gave it to him. I told myself that he needed it more. “Take it,” I said.

He looked at me in disbelief.  “Thank you so much!”

He looked happy. Tired, worn out, hungry, frustrated, but happy. I bid him good day and watched him disappear into the distance. I had chosen to believe him. In that moment, even the scorching sun and how tired I was couldn’t hold down the rush of joy and excitement I felt. I was lost in bliss, till I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Danny, a good friend of mine.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yes I am. Actually, I’m better than OK!” I said happily.

“Are you sure?” He looked very concerned.

“Yes, is something the matter?”

“Yes. You have been standing here talking to yourself for the past seven minutes!”

“What!? Don’t  be silly Danny, I was talking to that ragged young boy!”

“What boy?”

“How could you not have seen him Danny, you were right over there by the shop! You must’ve seen him! Are you playing a trick on me?”

“Sheryl, there was no boy,” he said, very slowly.

I dipped my hand into my pockets and found a 20Ksh coin. “Then where’s the 50Ksh note then?”

“You had only a 20Ksh coin today, remember?”

I noticed a crowd had gathered. They seemed to have been there for several minutes. It was then that it dawned on me.

“He was right here!” I mumbled.

“Come on,” said Danny, “I’ll take you home.”

DEAR MICHAEL

Dear Michael,

I paused. I wondered what to write. So far I had nothing, just ‘Dear Michael’. What would I even say? “Relax,” I told myself, “Michael isn’t going to read this letter, it’s for your own benefit, it’s for you to get out  those feelings you’ve been burying deep inside.” I looked at the foolscap. I closed my eyes and sighed. “OK, let’s get this over with,” I said. I opened my eyes and started writing and didn’t stop until I finished.

Dear Michael,

I don’t know what you were hoping for exactly on Saturday when you came over with a movie but when you said you came so that I can apologize, I got angry. Apologize for getting sick? You broke up with me because I got sick? Yes, later on on Saturday night, you texted and explained and said I push you away every time I get sick – which is a lot because I have a faulty immune system- but what I don’t get is how you feel pushed away exactly when I’m experiencing mind-blowing pain. Maybe you should explain that. Also you said that I was being ungrateful when I said that you’re only here for the good times and nowhere to be found when the bad times come knocking. I wasn’t being ungrateful. It does feel that way on my end. Let’s take the last two weeks for instance, you’ve broken up with me twice in a span of two weeks – when I was sick. Yes, you do take care of me when I’m sick but really that’s more of a distant memory.  Do you know on Wednesday you came in and just sat there, watching movies on your laptop, not a kiss hello, not a kiss goodbye? At least that’s what I remember. Maybe I should hear your side of the story, I’m sure I’m biased right now because my heart hurts. However, I’m sure that deep down, this isn’t about me getting sick and you feeling pushed away. I think this is about something bigger. Something that goes all the way back to when we met. Remember those day? You were busy chasing down just about everything in a skirt until you met that one girl that got all your attention and suddenly your focus changed. Suddenly you were interested in one girl and one girl only. She occupied all your thoughts, conscious and sub-conscious. All you ever talked about was how you would make her yours. You talked of how deep down you knew she was the one. And Lord knows deep down into a year of us dating I never ceased to hear her name. That girl is Mel. Mel was on of the few friends I had made in college when we started, way back two years ago. My part in all this – I was the DUFF. Bianca and Wesley had their happily ever after, and I thought we would get to have ours too, but I guess life had other plans. I guess part of the problem was you loved her and we both knew it. And when you couldn’t get her, you settled for the next obvious choice – the DUFF. I hate that day when I lied to myself that we were going to be happy, I’m a smart girl, I know better, I should have known better. We were never meant to be, you knew it, I knew it. But still every time I tried to walk away, something held me back.  I see what was now. That was my blindness, Lord knows I could see through your charm. Then again Prince Charming was raised to be charming, not nice. After all, who says, “I don’t want to lose you because I don’t want to start all over again,”? I’ve heard ‘I don’t want to lose you because I love you’, ‘I don’t want to lose you because I can’t live without you’ and all the other sugar-coated words that may or may not be meant but I have never heard ‘I don’t want to lose you because I don’t want to stuff all over again’. And you didn’t stop there. “That process is so long and boring, I don’t want to do that,” you continued. All those times and I never said anything. Mostly because trying to tell you something would end up with ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ or ‘How dumb do you think I am?’ and if I was lucky you’d also throw in ‘You’re stupid/dumb/lazy’. Also, your issue is how I hurt you. I hurt YOU. I know no one is perfect, I’m not claiming to be, but I’d really like to know how I hurt YOU. I was the one who lost my dignity and my identity plus a few grades, but no one knew this because I never let it show. I guess all these things add up to me refusing your offer of me asking you to get back together with me as you offered I do on Saturday night when you texted to apologize for unceremoniously coming over, waiting for me to apologize to you. It shocked you when I didn’t ask you to forgive me and take me back, as you suggested I do. You called that me ‘re-breaking’ up with you. How can I break up with you when we already broke up? You broke up with me, Michael! To put it aptly, I just don’t want to hurt you anymore. This is me making my selfless act like Lana did when she absorbed all that green kryptonite.  Am I okay with the way things turned out? No. Of course not. I was the easy one to get to after the one you couldn’t get the one you wanted even after numerous tries – some ‘innocent’ ones occurred even when we were dating – and that is always going to haunt me. The only thing that will haunt me more is the fact that I really did love you.

I put the pen down. I felt a tear run down my cheek. I stood, picked up the feelings letter, walked to the kitchen, picked up a jerrycan of kerosene, doused the letter with kerosene, struck a match and set the letter ablaze.

FEELINGS WITHIN

“Is this really necessary?” I asked as I looked around. I was in Dr. Meyer’s living room, lying on her couch, prepping for a session. Dr. Meyer is my next door neighbour and a psychologist. Licensed psychologist. Her living room was chaotically organized, giving away that the home had some children in it. There was a pile of bedrocks in one corner and a pile of cushions in another. Some toys were neatly put away in yet another corner but there were also some scattered around randomly posing a tripping hazard. I collected my thoughts. “I don’t think this is necessary, Jane,” I said. Jane was Dr. Meyer’s first name.

“Oh relax. I’m not going to literally pick your brain. You just look so tense and I can’t have my assistant tense now, can I? Sends the wrong message to my patients. We’re a team, Perry,” she said.

“But I’m not your patient, Jane, besides, many other people have been dumped. Honestly, I can get over it. It’ll take some time, sure but I’ll get there.”

“So you’re okay that Michael broke up with you?”

I paused pensively. I remembered that day all too clearly. Maybe because hardly even a week had passed. On that material day, which happens to be last Wednesday, I had taken ill, and I was in a bit of a mood. Michael, charming prince that he is, came all the way to baby sit me and make sure I was as comfortable as I could get. He stayed till the evening when he headed home – and broke up with me.

Back to the present, I closed my eyes and sighed dramatically. I opened my eyes. “Yes, Jane, I am OK.”

“He promised to be with you on Valentines…”

I cut her short. “Valentines is over-rated, Jane!”

“So you’re absolutely fine? Nothing you want to share with me?”

“These toys are a tripping hazard,” I said, motioning to one.

“Oh those ones. My son Jay, I can never get him to put them all together, he always leaves some behind.”

“Maybe you should let him trip on one, see how he likes it.”

“Very funny!”

I sat upright. “Your couch is very comfortable but I’ll go home now.”

“Perry, wait. Why don’t you try writing down how you feel.”

“You mean one of those feelings letters?”

“Yes, exactly. No one ever has to read it, just get everything out…” I got lost in my thoughts as she droned on and on. A long awkward silence informed me that she had finished speaking.

“Sure thing. Have a nice evening Jane.” I said as I left.

What Jane didn’t know is that Michael had actually come over on Saturday, expecting an apology from me, waiting for me to ask him to take him back. I didn’t, and it made me angry that he broke up with me and disappeared for around 3 days before showing up unceremoniously on my doorstep, acting like nothing happened.

I switched on the lights as I got into my house. I looked around. My living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado, and no, no kids. I sighed. “I need to arrange this place,” I mused. I went into the kitchen, took a beer from the fridge, doubled back into the living room and put on season 5 of Modern Family to watch. I set myself comfortably on the bedrocks – no couch – and readied myself for a marathon of two gay dudes with a Vietnamese kid, an old dude with a trophy wife and a guy who got a wife by accidental conception but now has three kids with her. There was a foolscap on the table. I thought about what Jane had said about a feelings letter. “It’s not such a bad idea,” I thought to myself. I picked up the foolscap and a pen and started writing.


LOTTA LOVE

Morning dewdrops are effete linings of fallen clouds that take a nap on the life just a few feet above the sea level. They give mornings a feeling of calmness and unfledged part of the day that buds into this warm and cosy and sometimes churning air like now in India. Every person has a normal routine when they wake up: some shower, some get to look for something to eat, some do not actually have a routine making that the routine, some call or text those they love, some just lie in bed. Mine was the latter two, and it’s you I had in mind most of the mornings I woke up and wasn’t physically next to you.
Now, can’t sleep, no appetite, no psyche to get outta bed; looking like a frail doll just expeditiously made for no apparent aim or motive, but have to live through another morning of despair. Sounds like a low self-esteemed person, yeah I know that, but that used to be me way before.
Understanding situations to me is usually easy irrespective of time taken to perceive that’s why I’m able to toss a few words in and out to try and make sense out of nonsense. But every person has a weakness of letting those close to them fall under the scrutiny line of friends and you are no exception, I never thought too deep and too far about you until when I opted to see if I try and save you from yourself. Now as this situation stands tall, none of it makes sense at all.
You say ‘There’s this burning in my chest that I just can’t free myself from. A hollowing in my soul, a heart rugged with scars. How do I put this aptly – I’m dying. Slowly, I’m sinking into the abyss that my life has become. The pain I’ve been trying not to feel for so long is coming down hard on me. I must’ve been a fool to think that I could’ve remained forever numb. It runs so deep in my veins I just want to let it out, let it flow, and so if you come across cut marks on my arms or slashes on my wrists, do not be surprised’
No one asked you to remain numb, no one asked you to die; but you did, and maybe it’s not because you want to but because of certain situations that are in your reach only that you can’t physically grasp it. I know how swiftly a heart can be exploited by another heart, by words, situations or by somebody’s own mind and most of the times it doesn’t aptly conform to what is of truth and heart aches grow out of this.
If I’m to reminisce about us, I could write three or four best-selling novels and could win tons of prizes because they are precious moments in both our lives with both taste and fun and any other component that may come to mind. But I will only remind you of a few moments.

  1. It’s around twelve at night, cold as hell, but the frogs can’t stop croaking and the stars can’t stop twinkling. We are listening to a couple of songs out loud, we are laughing at drunks and random people, Kisses as of two angels, hand in hand as of two oceans, smiles and laughs as of the roars of a dozen comets, I have to leave, anguish in both our eyes and the grip between our hands is tight now, hard to let go.
  2. It’s on the eve of closing school in semester 1.1, you are alone in the hostels, I come over and ask you if you want to talk about  what it is you are going through, you push me hard, I storm out softly and not even say goodbye, in the air smidgen whispers are heard, we can’t let go
  3. Its 15 April I guess, the sun is scorching, the air is stuffy, the shower hot, we both smell fresh as candy now, you have to go, your ride arrived, we have time for a quickie, but we can’t come to terms with the fact we are leaving, thought of going back to the dungeons scares the life out of us, so I cup your cheek, deep my eyes in yours, say It will be okay, and a subtle kiss to assure both of us it will, can’t look at you go, letting you go is apical twainly.

I understand a lot about where you come from, you have opened up to me enough to get a hang of ‘why’ questions. My life since birth has been of struggles, diseases and other deficits but all through my parents love has walked us through a lot of stuff and has salvaged a lot of items from the dragons breath of ice; I mean all my life I have seen and felt love from my family that my hearts has become a streetwalker. Good thing is that that makes me a good person under given circumstances, bad thing is that that makes my heart a loose lock.
What I love about you is a lot; that you give credit where it is deserved, give chances a way to start and see where it will lead to, you toil with other people minds; you know, as you call it a psychopath, I love how you open up to me, how you let me in so that I can unwind a few tangled knots inside you, how you listen to me, how you gently you choose list is endless.
Waking up next to you, sleeping next to you, walking next to you, cooking next to you, well you cooking and I spooning and getting you horny and making the wall a bed, taking a bath with you, brushing your teeth, laughing and taking pictures of you pooping, going for shopping with you, discussing stuff with you, the sex, the funny laughter, getting high on coffee, unearthing each other’s manic heights, tickling …
It’s not only about love when honeymoon ends, it’s about care and affections, daily ablutions off of pain and problems, it’s about holding hands, it’s about tasting the waters on all corners, it’s about switching TV channels of our lives. But the love still lingers around and around, can be seen, neither hidden nor blinded, clear as crystal, sunlit but blizzards hit hard, and sometimes, as strong as it is, it swiftly falls down dead seemingly lost off the face of earth.
I love you I do, I have proven to you more than any normal person could say the expected number of words in a day, I care about you and your life, I miss making love to you dawn till dusk, I miss talking with and listening to you openly without setbacks and am patient, or I used to be; can’t say more now, but I can ask you to let me love you, let me make you fall in love with me once again, to let me delicately select the pieces thought of dead to you.
It doesn’t end when I break, it ends when closed doors stay shut, and no one wills to find a key, or break the door. I never break, I just slip into a dark place, not as so to get your arse out, but to find me before I find you. I’ll find you snow white, I know I will again.

ELLIPSES

There’s this burning in my chest that I just can’t free myself from. A hollowing in my soul, a heart rugged with scars. How do I put this aptly – I’m dying. Slowly, I’m sinking into the abyss that my life has become. The pain I’ve been trying not to feel for so long is coming down hard on me. I must’ve been a fool to think that I could’ve remained forever numb. It runs so deep in my veins I just want to let it out, let it flow, and so if you come across cut marks on my arms or slashes on my wrists, do not be surprised. Pain flows in, blood flows out. Or maybe anorexia. Or bulimia. Or shit that actually works, say cocaine or heroin? Maybe even crystal meth. Where am I going with this? Quite frankly I do not even know. But one thing I do know is that pain scares the life out of me. It’s not even logical. How can a human being living in pain be so afraid of the one thing that confirms her life? Pain stops me from doing all those things. I cannot fight fire with fire, that’s just creating more fire. And so here I am, in the lonely hour, alone, trying to fight insomnia and get at least two three hours of sleep before the rude awakening. Which brings me to the question, why am I doing this? Day after day, going through the same damn thing over and over again, bearing the pain, wielding the glue that holds everything together, putting on a brave face and a brave smile, why? I could try taking the easy way out but it’s never worked for me for the times I’ve tried it. Am I weak, cowardly? I beg to differ. As many stay alive for they are afraid of death just as many seek their death for they are afraid of life. Who’s the pot calling the kettle black? There is certain bravery in seeking the world of the departed for who knows what follows; the happy hereafter of rainbows and leprechauns and candy canes and pots of gold and unicorns or the doomed hereafter with hell fire and lava springs and nuclear fission and tripods and all things red and flamey? Or maybe even none of them? Or reincarnation?
I don’t know why I do this, every single time you ask me, my answer is the same. You found me broken. You found me psycho. You found me with an innate passion of all things dark, like my lifelong dream of being an assassin. You found me like this. I understand why you would want to fix me. It’s a cruel reality to wake up every morning to the fact that the person that could easily be the love of your life is all these things. Correction – the person you believe to be the love of your life. And so you keep your quest, every single day trying to make me better, trying to make peace with the voices in my head, trying to make peace with the different people that I am, trying to answer why so you can make it stop, trying to take me into the abyss of candy canes and all things nice in the here and now, trying to heal me/help me heal. I get all that. Yes, we did hit it off. We connected, a connection deeper than I have ever had with any other person. Possibly even the deepest I’ll ever have, even sexually (and God knows I wouldn’t want to give that up). I could go deeper, pardon the pun, but that would turn this into a porn section.
You have seen what you think are all my demons. Yet that’s not even the half of it. It takes a lot of love and commitment to keep up with that craziness. Unfortunately, you cannot come out of it alive. And you know it. You can see it. I see it too. It’s eating you away. It’s rotting your very core. Soon your lungs will give way. You cannot keep living like this. This is my curse not yours. And in as much as you try to label it as ‘our curse’ in the spirit of oneness, I just can’t let you. It kills me inside to see you do that. It adds to the pain. It’s not fixing me; it’s pulling me apart quicker. And I know you’ve run out of options. But you’d never give up. We live in the moment, cherishing every bit, till the tornado sweeps forth and topples the boat. And though we’re in the same boat, the tornado leaves me a board to hang onto, what do you get? Nothing! It drowns you. It sinks you. You cannot resurface. Like the scene of Titanic where Rose is on the floating thingy and Leo (I forget his character’s name) is in the freezing waters. He dies. And yes, there was enough space for both of them on the floating thingy. That’s where the difference comes in, my floating thingy is my demons. Demons get you in, demons get you out. But you chased out all your demons long ago. You have majorly angels. My demons pull you in with me, your angels cannot pull you out. And so it happens. How you even resurface, I do not know, but one thing is for sure, you get weaker each time, and we both can see it. But still you hang on. You’re dying and we have to face it. Correction, I’m killing you as I die.
So why not just end this. Say the word because only you can. I’ve tried, doesn’t work when I do it. It wasn’t meant to be after all, you were ready for the plunge, I wasn’t. You are in love with me, I love you, but I am not in love with you. I said yes because I couldn’t say no, because you couldn’t stop asking, because I figured, “What have I to lose?” Well, I have you to lose. But it was going to happen anyway, I mean whoever heard of a boy and a girl who are best friends and don’t end up together one way or another, even if it doesn’t last? I might also be gay, not sure though. Though the right way to put it would be bisexual. It’s not like I haven’t been to the other side of the vineyard. I know I said I put it behind me – the truth to that is…not so much, not even close. Let’s just call it questioning for now, I mean, whatever the case I am definitely a member of the LGBTQY community and sitting on that just sucks. But it’s better to sit on it than to not sit on it because not sitting on it would mean I’d have to prepare myself for an exorcism. In fact, not sitting in any of these things would need me to prepare for an exorcism. But you already know most of them, don’t you?
I lie to you. That you know too, but you only know the lies that I let you know. Guess you lie to me too but hey, I trust it’s for a good reason. Yet I know you don’t lie to me. I’m a pathological liar. I’ve had years and years of practice. I do it without even batting an eye lash. Even a lie detecting test can’t trace the lies. Well, maybe the sophisticated one can, but not for long. Why do I lie? Sometimes a lie is better than the truth. For instance, if you were to read this, you would break into pieces that would never fit back together. Because some things in it I just can’t tell you. I should, probably, but how do I get around to it? Maybe it would be better if you read it. Maybe it would be better if you don’t. But one thing’s for sure, tonight you lie awake wondering how tired I was to go to bed at 10, the other day it was 9…and so it goes…well, if I were asleep I wouldn’t be writing this now, would I? I just can’t take it anymore and so I try to stay away. And part of staying away is avoiding the late night texting, which I love doing by the way, but one of these days all these will spill out, then what?
Am I trying to hurt you? No. am I trying to make you look the fool for love? Definitely not. I am lucky to have you. Blessed. But I can’t keep doing this anymore. These are not normal people problems. Normal people do not have split personalities or obsessive disorders or are schizos. We both aren’t normal. I’m turning you into me and it just isn’t fair. You know it, you said it, and I said it. The voices in my head tell me to tell you the truth, tell you how I really feel. I just wasn’t ready for commitment, probably never will be. I can’t even commit to finishing prescriptions. I have never committed to a promise, not even one to myself. And I love you. And I care for you. And now I’m stuck here, not knowing what to make of the end to our story. Maybe it doesn’t end. Maybe it goes on forever. Maybe. But the truth is, in my head, in my heart, it doesn’t go on forever. It ends. It ends when you break.

15. Mrs de Winter

I was feeling sick, depressed.  I was still seeing Vietta, she was condemning me for abandoning her.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  The stress was too much.  I had lost two cases in a row.  Losing a third case would mean early retirement for me.  I had been fined for disorderly conduct in court.  I had lost Taliah and I knew there was no way I would get her back.  So many thoughts ran through my head, some were nice, most were not; as a result, I suffered from migraines that lasted for days upon days.  I finally decided to go see a doctor.
On the drive to the hospital, I debated with myself on whether I really needed to see a doctor.  Before I realized it, I was at the reception area of the hospital.  I was immediately referred to a Dr. Khan.  A kind-looking nurse showed me to Dr. Khan’s office.  I shuffled my feet there.  I wondered what the doctor would say.  Would Dr. Khan just give me some aspirins and send me on my jolly way?  Would Dr. Khan refer me to a psychologist or even a psychiatrist?  Would Dr. Khan ask me to switch to a sugar-free organic diet?  What would Dr. Khan do?  I realized that I had reached Dr. Khan’s office.  I knocked.  No answer.  I sat in the waiting lounge outside the office.  I felt dizzy.  I could feel myself going to that dark place again.  “Why, Terry, why?”  It was Vietta all over again.
Leave me alone!
I couldn’t stop it from happening.  I fell to the ground as my consciousness flooded with old memories.  Leave me alone Vietta!
“Vietta?  Ma’am, we’re here to help,” said a calm gentle voice.  I looked up.  I had apparently been screaming out loud.  A lady wearing a white lab coat was squatting, trying to help me up.  I read her name tag.  It said Dr. Khan.
“I…I need help, Dr. Khan,” I managed to say.
“Come with me,” she said as she led me inside her office.
I followed her into her office.  It was plainly furnished.  I lowered myself into a chair.  “I’m not mad,” I started, “I’ve just been having bad dreams.”
“Bad dreams?  Was what just happened one of them?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to tell me what happens in these bad dreams?”
“I help my sister…I help my sister but it’s my fault.  It was all my fault…”  There it was again.  Leave me alone!  I got up and ran out.  I couldn’t see where I was going but I kept running.  I had to get away.  I had to leave.  I found myself outside the hospital building.  I stepped onto the road.  There was a girl in the middle of the road.  I made a mad dash across the road and pushed her out of my way.  I heard the screeching brakes too late.  I felt a lot of pain as my world went dark.

14. Josh Summers

My soul was at peace at last.  Taliah was going to be the best thing to ever happen to me.  The day she happened to me, I had peace.  Peace at last.  She was a natural.  She answered all the questions on that show exactly as she was supposed to.  Granted, she did go off script, but I saw great potential in her.  She was a rebel, an outcast, a pioneer; she was me.  She was perfect for the job.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. 
I sang as I walked into my office.  I whistled and clapped.  One would have mistaken it for me having a private worship session along the hallways but that wasn’t it.  I was happy.  I was happy that things were falling into place at last. It’s finally here.  I smiled as I poured myself some whisky and drowned it in one gulp.  The dawn is here.
My soul was at peace at last.  Taliah was going to be the best thing to ever happen to me.  The day she happened to me, I had peace.  Peace at last.  She was a natural.  She answered all the questions on that show exactly as she was supposed to.  Granted, she did go off script, but I saw great potential in her.  She was a rebel, an outcast, a pioneer; she was me.  She was perfect for the job.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. 
I sang as I walked into my office.  I whistled and clapped.  One would have mistaken it for me having a private worship session along the hallways but that wasn’t it.  I was happy.  I was happy that things were falling into place at last. It’s finally here.  I smiled as I poured myself some whisky and drowned it in one gulp.  The dawn is here.

13. Liya Summers

     I did not know where I was.  Dr. Khan had said that I was in a hospital.  The smell was acrid. My head felt heavy.  I touched it.  the left side was heavily bandaged.  I wondered what had happened.  I looked around to see if I could find a mirror but there wasn’t any.  Turning my head made me realize that my neck was stiff, like someone had tried to break it.  I noticed some silverware in the room.  I walked over and used it as a mirror. That’s when I saw it.  I was in a neck brace.  My right eye was blackened.  I went into shock.  That was not the reflection of myself I was used to seeing.  I let out a loud scream.  A nurse came running over.
I did not stop screaming, I couldn’t.  The nurse went to get the doctor.  Dr. Khan came rushing in followed quickly by the nurse.  She tried to calm me down but I kept on screaming.  I screamed and screamed and screamed some more.  I felt a sharp prick in my arm then everything went black.