How do I speak when
my throat is constricted and
filled with a disease that
seems to keep growing
My hands reach toward
the narrow flesh and
skim over it again and
When the tips of
shaking digits reach
shaking lips my
airway grabs my voice
by the hand and
encourages it to flourish.
by the time my voice
trails to my tongue and
climbs from it’s hiding place
there is no one to listen.
I would be Arizona because I’m bubbly, perky, awesome and I have kick-ass heelys everyone should be jealous of!
She had hair of gold and
teeth of milk,
she had skin so fair and
a smile like silk.
Her laughs were bells
and her eyes would shine,
every touch and caress
I could claim as mine.
It was 12:00 pm, the first grade elementary class anticipating the bell that would signal their departure to lunch. Each of their tiny hands gripped large pencils, scratches against scraps of paper the only sound to resonate in the room.
”Emily,” the teacher called for the girl.
The little girl smiled, her blue eyes bright as she dropped her pencil and ran up to her teacher. “Yes, Mr. Johnson?” her grin was wide, a few teeth missing from her near perfect baby doll face.
Mr. Johnson held out a special pencil, pink and purple stars scattering around it. “Happy birthday.” he smiled, his wrinkled barely reaching his eyes as his eyes glanced to the corner of the room. His hands twitched slightly near his pocket, Emily completely oblivious of his strange behavior.
The tiny girl returned to her seat, pulling out her Hello Kitty backpack and carefully placing her new pencil into her backpack.
The entire class was unaware of the lurking creatures outside the safety of the school. Throughout the school hung red alarms, each ready to ring if there was any sight or talk of the undead within a five mile radius. Mr. Johnson’s head began to bead with sweat, his hands continuously loosening the tie against his neck. His wife, just a few miles short of the school had texted him, saying that all the store were held under lockdown.
The school’s scheduled bell rang, all the students pushing in their seats and rushing out of the room, giggling in joy.
Emily, however, strayed from the rest of the group. She roamed through the massive halls, her head towards the ground as she headed for stairwell C. There she would meet her best friend, Jacob. She pulled off her back pack as she sat down at the top of the stairs, pulling out a heavily wrapped gift. Her dimples showed, her lips pressed together as she placed her head on the side of the wall.
The light patter of running feet echoed in the stair well; Emily got up and bounced in place from pure excitement. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she shoved her gift behind her back.
”Hey! No fair!” Jacob frowned as he stood in front of her and did the same as her.
”Happy birthday, stupid.” she laughed pulling her present from behind her back. Jacob’s eyes lit up as he took the gift from her hands and struggled to hold her at the same time.
He tore the large clumps of wrapping paper off, a plastic toy gun appearing.
”Sweet!” he hugged Emily as hard as he could and gave her the present he wrapped himself as well. “Happy birthday, Emily.” his eyes were still concentrated on his gift.
A blaring sound went off around them, the confusion the both of them held distracting them away from any type of fear.
”What’s going on?” Emily took Jacob’s hand, his dark fingers pulling her to the door.
There were children and adults everywhere, yells and ear piercing screams filling the halls.
”Jacob, I’m scared.” Emily’s voice began to tremble, her eyes watering as she looked at her best friend. He present was clutched against her small frame.
”Come on,” he dragged her down the halls as he followed everyone out of the exit. When they got outside there were people everyone, the screams continuing to increase in dynamics.
There were too many people, too many unfamiliar faces that surrounded the two. The once peaceful playground with slides and sandboxes were now masked by the packed bodies trying to escape. The alarm continued to sound, Emily straining to cover her ears.
”Mom!” Emily was crying now, her face covered in tears as she instinctively searched for her parents. “Mommy!” she let go of Jacob’s hand and ran past crowds of children and families.
Emily stopped dead in her tracks.
There was one scream unlike the rest; it had an edge, a growl tinting the tone. It was more than pained.
It was torture.
The silence was disrupted as the the scream turned into a snarl. What could Emily do? She ran from Jacob, she couldn’t find her parents. She was sobbing, her present the only thing she had as she cried in place. Her fragile hands shook, her nose dripping and teeth chattering as people flew past her.
”Mommy!” she wailed again. A body slammed against her, her head hitting off of the ground as her present flew a few feet away from her. Her ears rang, everything going quiet as her blood pulsed in her head. A muffle a sound barely reached her ears, her hair brushing to tip of her nose as her vision became blocked.
She pushed her hair away, tears streaming down her face as she became a liability. Her mouth opened as she called for her mother, but she couldn’t hear herself. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion; the wind slamming against her face, her fingers clawing into the concrete.
She opened her eyes, her vision slowly returning. The first thing she could see was her gift, the head of a stuffed bunny sticking out from the endless scraps of paper. Her sense of hearing, still hindered, left her unable to hear the decrease in people screaming.
She was alone.
She crawled, her palms scraping off of the pavement as she reached for the stuffed animal. Her fingers were in reach, the toy almost in her grasp.
It is the quiver of hands as they clutch onto a leather arm rest. The material, one I’m not very fond of, scratches my skin. My eyes dart back and forth and blink over and over; tears that have yet to fall, that I refuse to let go of, want to make theirselves known. But my hands, that have now made their way to fluttering lashes, gather wetness with eagerness.
But I could recall the tainted breath that leaked into each piece of my hair until it reached my heated ears. I could smell the odor of vodka and sweat on him, feel the way his wrinkled clothes rubbed against my back.
I could recall my teeth chattering, the coldness of his motions making goose flesh rise and my lips to shake.
What I could recall most was his voice, whispers of “You’re beautiful,” as his harsh grasp of white knuckles fisted my breasts, did I truly feel fear.
my lungs are a comma,
a paused breath held like fingers
to a trigger
a bullet aiming. two targets.
ready to break
i used to imagine kissing you
would taste like
expensive wine and sweaty sex,
the first moment i realised i was
falling in love with you
now i have to…