SHORT STORIES-UPDATED

The Cave 

By Shamara S. Davis

"Don't go in there, "Yaella said as she grabbed Zandra's arm.

"Why not?" he replied with a smirk. "It's only a cave, nothing more. Don't tell me you believe those childish ghost stories your grandmother told you"

"They aren't childish."

"Oh my God, you do believe it don't you?" He laughed. "You're too old to believe such things. There aren't any spirits, monsters, witches, or anything supernatural living around here."

Yaella looked at him embarrassed that he'd laughed at her. "Shut up Zandra! What my grandmother says is true and if you do in there you will regret it."

"Okay then lets find out if your grandmother is telling the truth or if she is just feeding you some old wives tale."

"What do you mean find out?"

He looked at her knowing that she would be too scared to go so he told her what he had in mind. "Let's go into the cave and stay there for an hour and see if anything comes out."

"Are you crazy? We aren't supposed to go in there my grandmother and the rest of the elders will kill us if they find out."

"Then lets make sure they don't find out," he replied. "Listen I can understand if you're scared."

"I am not SCARED," she yelled at him. "Why is it that people say I am scared when I am only trying to keep to the old ways. My grandmother raised me to respect our past and all you and the rest do is trample all over it."

"Why are you getting so mad? And don't lump me in with the rest of those morons. You know that my grandfather was a village elder, so I know as much of the history and stories as you do. I just choose not to believe it."

"Whatever I still think it's a bad idea to go anywhere near that cave."

"You are scared. Fine, I'll go alone then and prove to you that there is nothing in that cave to be afraid of."

Yaella grabbed for his hand embarrassed she dropped it as soon as she realized what she was doing. "Wait I will go with you, but I want to bring something. Wait for me here."

Yaella raced back to her home and grabbed a necklace made from bone and feathers. She placed it around her neck and raced back to meet Zandra.

"Okay I'm ready," She told him.

"What did you have to go get?"

"The necklace my grandmother gave me."

"Really you had me waiting here for that."

"Listen it's blessed and if anything happened in there it will protect us. Well me I don't know about you since you don't believe it."

"Whatever let's go and as for that necklace I'd rather take my chances in the cave than were something like that," he said laughing.

The cave sat in the face of Black Mountains. The legend that goes that a long time ago a demon came to Yaella and Zandra's village, it disguised itself a human and started to eat the villagers soon after it had arrived. The elders of the village summoned No-La, who is a distant relative of Yaella. No-La chanted and blessed the village and its people. The monster no longer has a food source went after No-La to kill him and eat his soul. But No-La was wise he journeyed to the cave in the face of the mountain and in the cave was a scared rocked No-La craved a dagger from the rock and waited. The demon had followed No-La to the cave in hopes to kill him, but No-La had set a trap of the demon and No-La escaped the cave. He wanted at the mouth of the cave as the demon ran towards him trying to escape but when he approached No-La plugged the dagger in the demon's heart killing it. The demon's body fell a part and No-La returned to the village.

"Listen if we see anything in there we're leaving right away," Yaella told him.

"Sure, just don't scream when you see a spider or something," Zandra teased.

They climbed up the face of the mountain. This was easy for them since they have been climbing the mountain since they were children. The reached the entrance of the cave and stood their looking into it. It was dark. Yaella could feel that she shouldn't let Zandra go into the cave, but she couldn't stop him. As they stood there a gush of wind rushed out of the cave almost knocking them back towards the edge of the palato.

"Okay not that was weird," Yaella said out loud. "Listen to Zandra, I am not scared, but I really think that this is a bad idea and I have a bad feeling around this place.

"Yaella comes on we are already here and don't tell you you believe that old story about some demon's spirit being trapped here?" He asked here. "It's nothing but a story so come on," he told her as he places his hand on the mouth of the crave and went in.

"Zandra wait for me," she said as she ran into the cave. Yaella felt a cold chill travel down her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she knew that something was wrong. Her grandmother had taught her all the signs that we passed down in her family, and she knew to never ignore them.

"Zandra, Zandra where are you?" she yelled. "She fished through her pocket for her phone and turned on the flashed light.  "Zandra, where are yoo"

"Boo"

"Awwwww"

"Haha Yaella, you should see your face."

"That wasn't funny Zandra. I'm leaving."

"Yaella, Yaella, wait I'm sorry. I just wanted to show you that there was nothing scary about this cave. It's just that a cave."

"Listen Zandra, I am leaving. We've disrespected our ancestors and the elders enough."

"Find, but I want to take something back with us."

"No Zandra leave what is here, here. This placed has been enchanted to keep the souls here at bay removing anything might upset that."

"God, Yaella stop with all the superstitious talk already," he told her. "Look I am going to take this," he said as he bent down and picked up a smooth rock. "This is kind of cool it almost looks like a dagger. Look Yaella."

But Yaella could only look on in shock. An ominous shadow had formed behind Zandra. It's eyes were blood red and Yaella could fell evil flowing from it.

"Yaella what's wrong?"

"Zandra I told you we should have come here...It's the demon's spirit it's behind you."

"Sure it is Yaella, I'll turn around and you'll try to scare me for earlier."

But Yaella was right the shadow belongs to the demon No-La and killed. Zandra turned around a found himself face to face with the demon's shadow.

"Yaella what is that?"

"Zandra come we have to leave. Run Zandra."

Zandra turned around to find bright right eyes straying back at him. In shock, he dropped No-La's dagger. He couldn't run, nor could he make a sound

"Feed me your souls," the demon's spirit whispered.  It wrapped its darkness around Zandra and soon disappeared. Leaving Zandra collapsed on the floor.

"Zandra, Zandra are you okay? Wake up we have to leave. Please Zandra."

"Zandra is not here, descendant of No-La."

"Who, Who are you?" Yaella asked.

"I am Malizfist, the devour-er of souls," as he said his name the cave seems to shake. "My physical body was destroyed by your ancestor No-La, but now I have a new body and No-La is no more. I will destroy the town and feast on the souls he tried to protect."

"No, I won't let that happened," Yaella yelled at the demon.

"What are you going to do girl? You cannot harm this body, and with this body, I will leave this cave."

"I will stop you," she said as grabbed the dagger near her feet. "I know what this is and if you don't leave Zandra, I will stop you."

"Hahahah, stupid girl, do you know how your ancestor No-La stopped me? He plugged that stone dagger into my heart. Can you do the same to your friend?"

Yaella knew she couldn't harm Zandra, although she thought this was all his fault. She thought of what she could do and remembered the necklace.

"Listen demon, get out of Zandra."

"What will you do? Kill your friend."

"No, Zandra if you can hear me fight him."

"Your cries are useless."

"Fight Zandra, please."

Yaella's cries got through to Zandra. He looked at her with pleading eyes knowing that at any moment he could disappear.

"Oh on Zandra, do you hear me?"

"Yaella, run, please. He wants to eat your soul and if he does he can leave the cave," Zandra told her. "I should have listened to you. Take the dagger and do what you have to."

"NO Zandra, I have another plan hold him off."

"I, I can't. awwwww"

"Zandra, Zandra."
"Sorry no Zandra here. It's time for you to die descendant of No-La."

Malizfist moved towards Yaella who still had the dagger in her hand. She didn't want to us it, but if it came down to it she knew she had to find the strength to scarifice her friend.

"Dammit," She thought "I have to find a way to get this necklace around Zandra, Malizfist neck."

The necklace that her grandmother gave her was handed down through the generations and is said to be able to expel the strongest of the demons from anyone. It had belonged to No-La.

"Zandra, Zandra here mean please, I know of a way to save you. You just have to fight him and take control."

"He can no longer..No longer." Malizfist could feel Zandra's conscieness and soul fighting for control of his body. "You will not succeed child, stop fighting me."

"Never, Yaella whatever your planning do it now," Zandra yelled at her.

Yaella raced towards Zandra and place No-La necklace around his neck.

"Yaella, get away," Zandra told her but it was too late.

Malizfist had gained control of Zandra's body again. He struck Yaella in the stomach and sent her flying. 

"That was good, what was it now, Yaella, but you have no hope."

"You're wrong," Yaella replied as she started chanting.

"What are you doing? Praying? It will not help yoo.." Malizfist stared to say, but felt himself being pulled part. "Stop what have you done?"

Yaella did no answer and kept chanting. The necklace she placed around Zandra's neck started to glow and and black smoke seemed to be escaping from Zandra's body.

"Stop it, stop it now," Malizfist yelled. " I will destroy you and the boy."

"Zandra, Zandra, help me push him from your body," she yelled.

"I will keep your souls here, one way or another," He told her. "Awwww"

Malizfist had been expelled from Zandra's body and the shadowy form that he first was hung over them. Yaella ran to Zandra helping him up.

"You will not escape me decendent of No-La. I will have my revenage," Malizfist yelled. The cave started to shack and parts of it started to fall.

"Zandra come on lets go, the necklace will keep him trapped, but I don't know for how long."

"Okay lets go, but Yaella grab the danger."

They both raced towards the entrance of the cave, but the magic in Yaella's necklace was not enough to keep Malizfist trapped.

"I will destroy you Yaella," he cried.

"Look the opening it up a head, just a little more," Yaella told Zandra.

They made it to the mouth of the cave but something had caught Yaella's foot. 

"You won't escape"

"I don't think so demon," Yaella said as she through the knife into the shadow.

"Awwww, I will not go back to the darkness, alone," he yelled. 

A hole opened up inside the cave pulling Malizfist back down into the depths. Yaella held on for all she could.

"Zandra help me."

"Hold on Yaella," he told has he braced himself against the mouth of the cave and pulled at Yaella.

The hole that had opened up pulled harder at Malizfist. "No, No, Noooo." Zandra gave it one more pull and Yaella freed from Malizfist's fell on top of him.

"We have to get out of here now," She told him.

They climbed down the face of Black mountain and watched as the mouth of the cave crumbled in on its self.

"Yaella, thank you for saving me."

"Maybe next time you will listen to me and my grandmother's superstitious stories."

"I think from now on I will, descendant of No-La."

Zandra and Yaella went back to their village hand in hand victorious over the evil Malizfist.

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ONE MORE MILE

        By: Shamara S. Davis

It’s going to be hard. I can feel it in my body. To walk by that god damn white sentinel of doom, without reaching out and grabbing its handle and ripping out what lies inside, Fuck you fridge! But I really can’t blame you can I, since you’re my only source of comfort. It’s my own fault I guess for being so weak. It’s not like it runs after me, forcing food down my throat; tasting every delicious piece of food that gets pass my wet lips.

It’s hard being fat, but who else do I have to blame but myself for my body misshapen, I could think of someone. Rolls of stretched flesh hang off me, escalating down my back and my stomach like a wave. Even though I go to the gym, run two miles, ever heart-pounding visit I see little results. The gym smells of sweat and hopes, false hope in my case. “You’ll lose weight faster if you run more, just one more mile” she said as we finished my weekly weigh-in. She sat in her office she looked like Barbie’s sister tall, slender, green eyes, with long jet black hair that felt like silk.

 Skinny bitch what does she know; does she know how it feels when I run? My body screaming in pain, knees aching and heart-pounding, beating like a thoroughbred at the Kentucky derby and sweating like a pig in a butcher shop. Does she fucking know?! But I guess if I run another mile then that’s another 300 calories. My heart hammering away at my chest, my face flushed with sweat, pushing myself another mile, another 300 calories. I can feel their eyes on me staring through me as if I am wafer-thin and transparent, I wish. “Maybe all the laughter is in my mind” I tell myself as I walk by the size 6 beauty queens” .

Heading home I get lost in my thoughts, thinking that at least I am safe at home. Not remembering my foe that cold bitch that opens herself to me to gorge on all the delicious delights that makes my struggle even harder. I could smell failure as I absent-mindedly arrived at my door and it smelt good. “Hey sweetie dinner is ready, we’re having curry goat with white rice and fried plantains” thanks mom. As I sat in the small kitchen catch between my dinner plate and that bastard fridge, I started to think. The thought she feeds me to make me fat so that I won’t leave crossed my mind. My Dad left because she got really fat, and he left me with her because he knew I’d be the same way. But I’ll be different and he’ll love me even though he doesn’t love her anymore. Dammit, there goes all my hard work that extra mile, those 300 hundred painfully, knee aching, heart-pounding calories were all for nothing. As I dig in, enjoy each fat-filled bite, my eyeballs edge to the corner to see that bastard standing there, staring at me with fridge eyes while I eat, knowing that I would come knocking at its door later. Fuck you fridge!

I hate late-night TV, Ab rockers, Ab flex, Alli, Nutrisystem, and Jenny Craig, there are all here to remind me that I need to fit in with society’s perfect image. I thought to myself I guess I could take the easy way out be one of the 341,144 people that had liposuction, what’s another body to that number. But I know I can’t since I’m afraid I won’t wake up. 12AM a dry heat burns my throat as I exhale. I didn’t think it would hurt that bad, but then again ramming my fingers down my throat isn’t pleasant, why wouldn’t it hurt. I can do this, “models do it all the time and look how skinny they are, bitches”, I say to myself as settle into my green couch and I put down the leftover plantains and I drift off to sleep. In the morning, I thought about those 3 miles as I head to the gym anticipating the smell of hope and failure.

As I walk in I see my muse, my so-called trainer. “Hey you’re looking great. See that extra mile is doing you good”, she says to me. I laugh with her as she strolls out of her office and she takes off in the other direction, towards the other beauty queens. Running feels a little easier; my heart still beating like a racehorse, “just another mile”. The rhythm of my heart each beat sounds like a thick hoof hitting the ground or more like a jackhammer digging in to concert.

Lightheaded I walk home thinking, I’m strong. As I enter I look in the direction of my constant foe and still secret friend and yell, fuck you fridge! “Hun, aren’t you going to eat?” In a minute mom I reply. I weigh myself to check my progress down to 200lbs, still too fat. After I ate I planted myself in my usual spot, turn on the TV and the first thing I hear, “And you too can have this body in 2 weeks for just $49.99. Get Slim; get slimmer faster, order now.” 12 A.M again, dammit my throat still burns. Does this get easier? Remember order your Get Slim now. “Hi I’d like to place an order”. I waited two weeks for this small bottle Get Slim huh; yuck, this thing smells like dog piss and taste like it too. “Drink it all down”, I chant to myself, drink it all down.

I’d been drinking that crap for three weeks now. I didn’t tell the trainer, no need to burst her bubble. “Woohoo, you’ve lost 20lbs. already. Great job, keep it up.” My trainer cheers me on, but doesn’t stay with me; leaving me alone with the only friend I have in this sweat tank, the treadmill. “Keep it up.” Easy for you to say 3 miles, I chant. My muscles contract and relax, working hard as I run; my legs look great I thought to myself. I look down; I can see my toes. Home again, “dinner is on the table hun.” My mom yells at me as she waddles her way back to her room down the narrow hallway. Thanks I tell her. I run to eat it all and drink my miracle piss juice. “Get Slim; get slimmer faster” I chanted as I chugged it down. 12 A.M, God the vomit smells worse, but I look good. I coughed and looked my hand a red stain, “wait is that blood?” Doesn’t matter it’s probably nothing.

Man, I’m dying to look like her, I thought as she weighed me again. “Okay 3 miles today, you look amazing, another 10lbs. This weight seems to be slipping right off you.” She was proud of me my trainer, my muse I run and my heart thunders against my chest, pushing at my rib cage, trying to escape this abused body. One more mile, I placed my hand over my heart to feel it racing, pounding away like a herd of wild stallions thundering across my chest like the open plains.

Still running my throat burning, dammit what’s happening? I can’t see anything! Am I still running? I can’t feel my heart. I can’t see. “Someone call an ambulance.” The trainer yells. I didn’t know if I was imagining it all, I felt nothing and heard nothing. The pounding against my rib cage and the thundering sound that was present in my chest were gone. What happened? As I lay there in the darkness all I could think about was my trainer, my muse and all my hard work; I was really dying to look that good.

“Amara can you hear me? Amara can you hear me?” Dad, my Dad is here, I struggled to open my eyes to only find myself being looked over by a doctor, and my father was never there. My mother sat crying in the corner eating some chicken with rice and peas. As I watched her I thought about the fridge waiting at home to greet me and comfort me with all its wonderful delights. I called the doctor over and asked him what he could do about my weight, “ wirier your mouth shut.”

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STORY # 2 

Childhood Memory- Sea Monster 

I remember we were all excited, filled with joy about spending a couple hours on the beach.  My house was only a few steps away. All of us walked down the block and there we were looking at a gray sand beach. The sun was almost high over head and it was only 10:00 A.M and already 80 degrees. We stood there staring at the black little pebbles that made up this beautiful scene. “What are you all waiting for?” my cousin asked. But we all stood there like petrified trees staring at this gray sand beach knowing what to expect. We ran “laadd Jesus it hot,” I screamed as I ran to meet the sea. Relief as we hit the water and submerged our feet into its cooling body, only to be hit back by the angry wave that rushed upon us.

The wave closed its self around us pushing us back and forth. Fighting with the shore like a game of tug and war to see who would keep us, sadly we were the rope. Finally the wave gave up on us and with its last final push and the shores final pull smashed us upon the shore leaving white foam upon us. Blood washed away with the wave as it retreated smiling at us like a mad dog foaming at the mouth staring at us preparing its next attack for the naive swimmer who dares to wonder into its arms. 

“Are you okay?” my cousin screamed, racing towards us with a horrid look upon her beautiful face.  “Mi wan go home,” I said, as we all pulled ourselves up to see the cuts we had received from the victor. Each of us bleeding one worse than the other, the side of my leg looked like someone had taken a rack to it and ripped the flesh from my skin the same goes for my right knee. I could see the white meat that lay below my brown skin that wasn't there anymore the blood-colored it as it spilled out.

Hurt and shaken we left that gray sand beach that day. A day that started out with laughter only to end with tears and a scar, I still can’t get rid of till this day. I always remember that day when I go back home to Jamaica. Now when I visit that beach I wear my slippers to avoid running back into the foaming jaws of that monster I call the sea.

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SHORT STORY # 3

JOURNAL THOUGHT

I often wonder whether or not if anyone notices that the things I write about are mostly all about me. I know that if they did they would think I was troubled somehow, but I can honestly say I’m not.  Sure my father left when I was young, and yea I have a slight obsession with food, but I’ not obsessed with my weight. Some people would call that denial, but I’m not denying anything. I can honestly say that some of the things I write about I’ve done. I’ve shoved my hand down my throat so that I can fit that look that I like society thinks is perfect. But what would you expect from a 14 year old girl who is treated harshly at school. I hated being called fat, because along with that you’re called ugly and all kind of other names that haunt you all your life.

I remember once when I was in high school I had finally had enough of not being noticed by the only boy I openly liked. So I thought I would try to lose some weight, maybe then he would notice me. I stopped eating which was one of the stupidest things I ever did. I went a week at homing hiding my food letting my grandmother think I ate her delicious food. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and the notice I wanted wasn’t the noticed I got. My friend told me that my skin looked strange, a little grayish; I took a good look at myself in the mirror when I went home and saw that my face did looked strange. My cheeks were sunken in and I didn’t look like the plum face smiley person everyone knew.

Happily that period in my life didn’t last long, but they lasted long enough for me to develop a dependence on those experiences to write what I show everyone now. It’s sad to say when I really read some of the things I write, I start to think maybe I need to talk to someone, maybe there is a couch out there that I should be lying on spelling my gusts to some stranger in thick bottle-cap glasses. I always think about that, but then I think those assholes are probably just as fucked up as I am. I’m 28 years old now and I still stay up at night and watch all those damn self improvement commercials and all the new pills, workout equipment, and diets that they have on at night to brainwash young women like me.

Yes I’ll admit that I’ve been brain washed! I say, I like who I am now, but when I see all these skinny little girls on TV, I feel inadequate all over again. My husband tells me that he loves me the way I am, but at the same time he will say “all you have to do is get rid of your belly and you’ll be fine.” What the hell is wrong with my belly? Shut up!  There is nothing wrong with the way my stomach looks. At least I can see my toes and I don’t look like a pregnant hippo. Comments like that force you to take a long look at yourself in a full length mirror all over again, making you find new things to pick at to hate about yourself. I think I might end up on that couch someday talking to some freak with a degree in listening to so called crazy people.

I can honestly say I’m not obsessed with my weight. I’m just obsessed with being a perfect version of me. I am smart, beautiful and did I mention smart. I have a talent for writing and it brings me more joy than stuffing my hand down my throat for someone’s stupid approval. I go to the gym and run that extra one mile, even though I don’t want too, but like I said I’m not obsessed with my weight  I’m just obsessed with trying to be a better version of me. I stand in front of the mirror and look at myself I’m not fat just husky. So why should I try to fit in societies cookie cutter image? Why should I try those extreme methods of weight lose?  I don’t know why. These are question I ask myself all the time and in my 14 years of being body conscience I have yet to find an answer.

My writing give me a way to release my fears, when I walk down the street and I see someone way bigger than me I pass my judgment silently and fear what I would look like if I packed on the pounds, but happily my fear of what I did to myself all those years ago to fit in, to look what everyone thinks is sexy still plagues me. But then again I think about what if I did do it again, it would give me some fresh ideas for my writing. I realize if I did it I would just end up back here writing another journal piece about not giving a shit about my weight when in fact since I am writing this I secretly do or end up on the couch at the therapist across the street from my house. At least help and a listening ear wouldn’t be too far for the right price. There probably people out there that are worse off than me and I know it. So hopefully when June 5th rolls around I get a little wiser by then and get off this diet just to show myself I’m a better me with our without that extra 10lbs.

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SHORT STORY # 4 THE BIRD AND THE BOY

 In a dark room sat a boy with his thoughts

He desired her. His thoughts were loving and selfish. Her beauty had no reveal and so he had to have her. He plotted and plotted, giving his every thought on how he would attain her for himself.

That night he crafted a beautiful black cage and adorned it with flowers to hide the ugly truth of it. He knew she liked daisies and would not resist coming close to the dark trap he had set. So he hung his trap and left a little light shining to compel her in.

The beautiful bird was tired and could fly no longer. She knew of a house that was close by so there she went. It was dark inside, except for a little green light that was surrounded by daisies. She flew towards it and found that it was solid; I will sleep here, she thought. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

He was standing in the dark watching her. He came out when she slept. He quietly closed the cages door, but the little bird a woke to see the young boy staring at her.

"Your mine now," he said. "You will stay and sing for me and only me."

"But I must return home," the little bird told him.

"This is your home now," he said gazing at her beautiful yellow feathers.

"But I must...," she started to say.

"My heart is not cold, if you sing for me tonight, I will let you go in the morning," he told her.

"Thank you, thank you," she sang.

And so the beautiful bird sang her sweet song for the young boy, who's heart was not as cold as you would have thought.

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By Shamara D.

(This is a complete work of fiction and should be taken as such. Although some events are currently in the news remember I am a writer, I take inspiration where I find it.)

I was on the train tired and half a wake. I sat there watching the population of the New York transit community spill in and out of the train. As I sat there trying my hardest and failing not to stare at all the odd balls that supposedly rolled in with the normal people I glimpse their weird behavior and automatically add them to my odd ball list. It was late when I got in. My apartment was cloaked in shadow as I fumbled for the light switch. Empty, always empty. What else would I expect to find here since I lived alone. Thirty years old, Kendra, and no boyfriend, no husband, no kids, and no prospect of any either.

I went into the kitchen to fix my self something to eat and as usual there was nothing in there but deli sliced turkey and cheese and some old Sunday dinner. I really did have to go shopping one of these days. The food my neighbor Ellen gave me a week back is starting to grow its own population, but I left it where it was not really caring. I made myself the sandwich and thought about the grit and grime that was all over my hands and body. I placed the sandwich on a plate and put it in the fridge. I grabbed my towel and headed towards the bathroom. I ran the water making sure it was lukewarm. I undressed and stood there in the bathroom looking at myself in the large hanging mirror. No wonder, I thought as I stood there gazing at the image of a woman that was new to me. Lucky the water was warm enough to create a fog and made her disappear. I stepped into the shower and let the water hit my face. I stood there thinking of the lackluster day I had sitting at my desk answering the phones saying the same thing over and over again. I wish I could wash the thoughts of the day away like the dirt, but I can't.

As I stepped out of the shower and walked towards my room I turned on the TV, I got dressed, grabbed my sandwich, and parked myself right in front of it just in time to see the start of the news. I hate watching the news it’s the same thing everyday, somebody killing someone and or some country in totally catastrophic decline. I sat there eating my sandwich wishing that I had the power to change the channel with my mind. I had left the remote on the stand with the TV and found it so hard to get out of my lazy boy to get it. I sat there and watch the rest of the news until I got the motivation to get up off my ass to get the remote finally. I flipped through the channels and finally found a movie that I actually liked. Paul Bettany is an awesome actor. I watched Priest until I fell asleep. That night I dreamt of a futuristic world where I was dressed in a long black robe killing freaky ass looking vampires.

I woke up at my usual time, showered, brush my teeth, ironed my clothes, and grabbed a slice of toast for breakfast. As I walked towards the bus stop I heard a bunch of ‘hello’ and ‘good mornings’ from passersby all of which I didn't acknowledge as usual. It's the same people each day, I don't know if they are hoping that I will eventually return their greeting, but I would advise them not to hold their breath. As usual I get on the B103. I hate the bus! You really can't do much to hide on there. You try and stick your head in the paper or a book, but when you come up for air you see some beady eyes staring back at you as if you had a billboard on the crown of your head. Finally the train station, I thought.

Same shit as before, more odd balls. This time I found a seat next to the rail so I could rest my head. I closed my eyes for a few minutes only since I was on the 5 train. I drifted in and out of odd dreams, and conversations that were not my own. When I finally woke up before I reached my stop to transfer to the other train that would take me to my daily prison, I woke up with some guy's junk right in my line of vision. This is the damn problem with the trains you go to sleep and then you wake up with random dicks in your face. I put my hand on my forehead enough to block this unwelcome view and sat there until I got off at Nevins.

The 2 train ride was much smoother, even though I was standing. I kept my head down trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Trying not to peer at these people out of the corner of my eye and make my daily judgments. Finally, I thought as the train came to my stop and I stepped out. I walked towards my office knowing the long vagarious day that was a head of me. Paperwork, phone calls, smiling at those that gave the same fake ass smile back. 8 hours, 8 hours of this shit, I thought. "Good Morning how may I help you? No this is not Moon Cakes, Listen lady you have the wrong number."  30 years old and this is my life. Master's Degree and all and I'm stuck being a desk jockey. "Kendra, excuse me Kendra, did you file that paperwork I gave you yesterday?" I heard from behind me. Yes bitch I did, I thought, "Yeah Jeania I did," was all I relied smiling vapidly at her.

4.59PM almost time to get the hell out of here. Friday, sweet Friday. I endured the same train right home, but this time I managed to fall asleep. I stopped at the Target to get some food with the little money I had left in my bank account. Turkey, cheese, bread, and a box of orange juice, I remembered to pick up some soup also. I made it home an hour and a half later, damn slow ass bus. This time I was too tired to make it to the shower before I ate. I washed my hands as if they had mud on them; the trains are filled with all kinds of germs. I made my sandwich, poured myself some juice and turned on the evening news. Another killing again, but this time it wasn't here. They showed the building burning. People protesting in the streets, burning a familiar looking flag. I watched as they reported that four people had died. One of them was a father of two. Poor kids was all I thought. I watched as the reports try to tell the story but I was tired and I drifted in and out of sleep. My head nodding back and forth, each time I picked my head up I managed to hear "Death to America". 

I woke up late, I raced to the shower, brushed my teeth, put my clothes on, and ran my fingers through my hair as I speed out the door. I made it just in time for the bus; it was weird usually when you got on people would pick their heads up to see who boarded as if they were expecting someone they knew. I found myself a seat in the back which was virtually empty except for one guy who had a newspaper in front of his face. "US EMBASSY BOMBED" was all I read from the front cover of his paper. I tried to remember if this was what I heard about on the news but couldn’t really remember. The bus had reached the subway and once again weirdness, it too was virtually empty.  I got on the train and saw that everyone had a newspaper "US EMBASSY BOMBED; DEATH TO AMERICA". I sat there thinking about the headlines it wasn't anything different but I felt different.

"#"

The day at work zoomed by, which was a godsend. It really didn't feel like I was there at all. I kept thinking about the headlines I saw. When I got back on the train it was the same thing everyone with their heads in the paper no one looked up as some would usually do when the train doors open. No one got off, nor did much of anybody get on. I tried not to think of it and found an empty spot and sat down. I gazed at the newspaper front page across from me reading "DEATH TO AMERICA"; ‘pieces of shit’ was all I thought. I caught myself I'd never had thoughts like that before, it must be the job, and I must be tired. As I arrived at the train station the doors open and all the people with their faces in the newspapers sat completely still as if they had all fallen asleep. I got off the train and ran up the steps in time to meet my bus. When I made it home I did my usual routine thinking of how strange my train ride was. I turned on the TV and heard those words that I read all day "DEATH TO AMERICA". 

This time my mouth went off without my say so "freaking assholes, death to whatever backwater country you’re from," I heard myself saying. "I'm so tired of seeing these idiots on TV. Everyday, every night, it’s the same thing. Don't they have someone else to hate on; murdering dirt bags." I clamped my hand over my mouth shocked at what just came out of it. I was scared. "It's time we made them pay," I heard, but I was home alone as usual, so I did not know where it came from. "They blow up our embassies kill our fellow Americans, but we don't do anything about it. It's time we made them pay "DEATH TO EVERYONE THAT DOESN'T LIKE AMERICA," the voice yelled. I looked around my back against the wall. 

"Who's there?” I barked at the shadows. 

"Don't act stupid," the voice replied.

 "Who are you? How did you get in my house?” 

"Your house? As far as I can remember this is my house."

I raced towards my bed room. "Get out or I'll call the police."

I switched on the light in the room and grabbed my chest; it was only my reflection in the mirror.  I didn't hear anything from outside my bedroom door. "You better get out." I yelled once again. I stood there pressed against my door and there was no reply. I opened my door slowly bracing my foot against it in case I had to close it fast. I peeked out the door and saw no one. The TV was still on but no one was there. I must be going crazy I thought. I went back to the living room it seems all the news wanted to talk about was those damn terrorist. I changed the channel but to no avail, every station had the same time. "Damn terrorist", was all I heard. I raced back to my room. "Why are you hiding?" I heard from behind me. "I don't want to hurt you," the voice said. I was in a panic; I turned around slowly just to see myself looking back at me. Now I knew I am going crazy.

She sat there even though I was standing looking back at me. Giving me time to come to terms with what I was seeing. "What the hell is going on here? You, you can't be real," I said pasted against my wall.

"Of course I'm not real. I'm just someone you made up," she said sarcastically. "I'm just some figment of your crazy imagination that's talking to you.”

"I've finally had that break down," I said out loud. All those long hours at a job I didn't like, with people I pretty much didn't care for. I finally had a nervous break down.

"Oh please you didn't have a break down," she said to me. "I'm you, the real you."

"The real me?" I said.

"Yes, you know the person that has all those things to say but you never say them because you think that people might look at you differently. Well I am tired of staying in the shadows. It’s my time to lead."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

"I am tired of you sitting there watching the news and seeing all this death to America bullshit." She yelled. "Everyday you come home it’s the same shit. They blow up our embassy, they burn our flag, they kill people and yet we do nothing. We don't bomb their embassies, we don't go after their citizens, and you don't hear us shouting death to whoever."

"You don't make any sense, what the hell are you talking about?" I asked her.

"We need to do something. Take some kind of action." she replied.

"What do you mean?" 

"We need to show them that we aren't anything to mess with." She replied.

I could see that there was a fire in her eyes and it wasn't anything good. I stared back at her and thought to myself that can't be anything that's inside me. I don't think like that. Sure I really don't like the shit that's going on but I'm no crazy person. I sat there rubbing my temples to see if this figment would disappear somehow. I picked my head up periodically and she was still there staring at me. The fire in her eyes glowed even brighter.

"This cannot be happening to me," I said.

"Listen, to me, LISTEN," she yelled.

I stopped and stared at her. She looked back at me as if she had me since I gave her the chance to explain her self.

"You won't have to do anything," she said. "Just give me control and I will take care of everything."

I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but I could fell myself slipping away and those thoughts and those words filling up my mind. Soon I had no voice of my own, she was in control now. I began to worry what was going to happen, what was she going to make me do? "Don't worry it's nothing you didn't already think of," she replied to my thoughts. 

She was on the internet looking up groups of some kind. She was looking up hate groups. I tried screaming, but nothing happened. "Stop yelling in there," She replied. Remember I'm in control now so even if you scream out loud no one but I can hear you." I didn't like this feeling of not being in control. She went back to her internet research and found one that she seem to take interest in, UNITED AMERICA, meeting on May 15th, 8:00PM, that was today in 2 hours. She wrote down the address and started heading towards the door.

"Wait, wait...," I yelled as I struggled against her control. "Where the hell are you taking me?" I demanded to know.

"Don't worry you’re just a long for the ride remember. Now shut up and let me do what I need to do."

We went to the bus stop; the skies were dark with big black clouds. I thought that was strange since they didn't mention anything about rain today. We boarded the bus and no one looked up. They had their faces plastered to the news paper like earlier. This time the newspapers said something different FIRE STORM, bastards was all I heard her reply. We arrived at the address she wrote down. There were people standing outside smoking cigarettes. I hate cigarettes. We stood up wind as not to inhale any of that, but I was stuck in here no control not knowing why she came to this place.  This isn't me I thought. But this is you I am you remember, She thought back.

The meeting has started when we went in I was taken back by the smell at the door. It smelt like piss and vomit, but she didn't seem too troubled by the smell. From the smirk on her face it seemed she enjoyed it. When we got to the hall there was a large mix of people, but mainly black and white. I watch as we moved towards the section that was mainly black. She introduced us as Jessica, I don't know why. 

"What the hell are we doing here," I yelled from inside my cage.

"Shut the hell up. What we are doing here is taking a stand, taking action," she replied.

"I don't want any part of this," I said. "Do you hear me?" But she didn't answer.

There was a man on the stage now. He was white short, and had a bald head. I looked him over and noticed that something about him didn't seem right and it was unsettling. He was a skin head. I managed to have her look over in the direction of the other white people that were there. They weren't all skin heads but a large number of them were. 

"Oh my fucking god! What the hell! Where the fuck did you bring me?" I yelled. "You bitch where the hell did you bring me?"

"Somewhere we can take action," she replied. "So shut the fuck up and listen."

I could feel her forcing me back into the cage and I could feel my strength to speak slipping away. The man on the stage began to talk and everyone started to listen.

"Greetings everyone. Welcome to United America. I'm going to keep this meeting short so we can get down to the real business. You've all seen the news and the newspapers. Those people want to kill us, white, black and in between. as long as you’re American you’re as good as dead," He yelled from the stage. "They blow up our buildings in '01, they kill our soldiers, and they take our hard earned money that our government gives them, but they want us all dead. Every time they blow up one of our buildings, or kill one of our citizens, no one over here protests, no one over here burns their flags, and lays siege to their embassies and kills their ambassador even though they might deserve it."

"I don't wanna listen to this," I said in a whisper.

"Shut up and listen," she told me.

"What I am saying here people that's it about time we take action. We need to show them that even through we the people in this room might hate each other equally, we hate them MORE, enough to put aside our differences. We can show them we hate them more," he yelled. “We need to organize, protest, and get some things done if you know what I mean. Show them that America is the greatest country in the world.”

I listened on in horror at what was being said. I listened as the others around me cheered and started to acknowledge each other for the first time since they were in the room. I could hear her yelling with them, with my voice. I wanted no part of this and I couldn't do anything about it.

"#"

She took me to two other meetings after that, each meeting planning and conspiring on how they would make a statement. She listened greedily wanting to make a move already. They were moving to slow for her liking; she learned how to make a small bomb at the second meeting. I was in a panic now, pushing at her to regain control.

"You can't do this to me," I yelled at her. "I don't believe in this. I don't want to die for hate. You can't do this to me."

She didn't listen. She went on listening how to build the bomb. We went home and she had bought all the ingredients for her device of death. I pushed and yelled at her, repeating the same thing. "I don't believe in this. I don't want to die for hate. You can't do this to me." She ignored me of course. She constructed the device in the bedroom. I could see her reflected back at me that fire that was in her eyes had all but consumed her. I started to think was this really inside of me? Is this how my story ends as some crazy home grown terrorist that people will remember as some murderer like those fools on TV? Will it make a statement, my actions? 

She had picked a spot where she would do it. She wrote a note in my handwriting and told all my friends, the little that I did have why I, she, was doing this. I didn't want to do this, this wasn't me. She placed the device into a bright pink backpack as not to be stopped in the subway and checked. She dressed up nice and neat, looked in the mirror and grinned. As she headed towards the door she picked up an apple. One last meal, I thought; remembering the saying "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." Where's that doctor now?

She had found the address to the building she had chosen to do this evil deed. We reached there in an hour, not having much of any trouble getting through security. She went into the bathroom and occupied the last stall. She checked the backpack to make sure her device of doom was still intact. She took off her coat and put it on. She put her coat back on and took the back pack with her. I screamed at her "Don't do this to me; I have a lot to live for. Please don't do this please." I yelled, but it fell on deaf ears. She went into the center of the lobby; it was crowded with people, all minding their own business. She shouted United America and that was it. I felt as the explosion ripped through my body. There was a reflective wall across from us. As parts of me went everywhere I saw those eyes still burning with fire. 

AAWWWWWWWW, I woke up yelling. 

Buzz

Buzz 

Buzz 

"Good Morning New York. It's a great Saturday morning the sun is shining and the humidity is great so get outside and enjoy your day after you finish watching our show of course.  Our guests today are award winning actor and philanthropist Brad Pitt and musician and activist Jared Leto."

"Oh my God was that all really just a dream," I said as I grabbed frantically at all my parts to make sure they were still there. I’d fallen asleep watching the news and then some movie about a war. ‘What the hell man’ I thought. I was still shaken up. I decided to take the bus to Target to get some much needed food to place in my fridge. As I walked to the bus stop passersby wished me a good morning and I did the same. I got one or two hellos of which I greeted them back the same way. I waited for the bus and it was packed. As I got on to my relief people looked up at me as they usually did, I smiled and went back to what they were doing.

I listened to the conversations that were not my own and enjoyed them, well some of them for their content. When I finally got to Target I bought so many things that I had to take a cab home. When I arrived home to my now sunlight house; I called the few friends that I did have and invited them to dinner. They were very surprised by my invitation but they all gladly accepted. 

Later that day I had finished making the stew peas and rice I had learned from my grandmother. My guest all arrived on time and happily served themselves. We all ate the table I told them about my dream. They looked at me as if I told them I had a bag full of cat heads in my room. My friend Marcus on the other had broke the silence "Kendra, you're bat shit crazy." 

I laughed with delight and enjoyed the food after that night of disaster and terror.