As morning leapt through July’s nighttime cumulus,
a newfound doe bears her fawn.
And then, dark forest’s shroud faded
when tender glimmers played in her eyes of almond,
and the fawn laughed.
Fawn’s herd enjoyed the little things,
her first grasp, her first words,
her first teetering and wobbling,
and youth’s giggles still heard
across the plains of violet bulbs.
Now, the fawn has blossomed,
entering the forest alone,
no herd behind her.
She’s faced by a tundra,
yet she beams,
shining a light,
and laughs.
The Night's Silhouette
I once was a small girl full of naivety and fear:
fear of shadows and darkness
and the creatures that hid
which waited to instill terror within me.
One April night that I could not sleep
as I hid under flowery pink bedsheets
that turned crimson in the dark,
my window was open with a breeze
blowing through the screen.
A finger or two tapped on the sill
like shaky bones that were trembling
with cold and reluctance.
The shadow against the screen welcomed
me with a flick of its hand
and whispered my name.
I stood up from my sheets
and the creature jumped back,
green eyes with hesitant temptation.
Hello, it said,
its empty chatters against its teeth
and my bravery with none held beneath.
I took its bony palm in mine
and he reluctantly took us both to the night,
flying high with the slight light brought on
by the crescent and the stars.
We flew over my house
and my neighbor’s white picket fence.
Their small dog awoke and barked at us from below,
and night owls turn their heads
to look at us fly.
But thus the sun rises despite the night
being younger than I,
and the figure shivered.
It left me at my sill
and I returned to my pink covers,
thinking to myself
And the night that I was not afraid of the dark,
the dark was the one who was afraid of me.
Spending Time
I spend time and time again
being provoked by wanderlust,
to find the place where I wished I could’ve been.
So I could fulfill the ambition of myself,
entwine my fingers with pink lace,
and be free where I could be free.
I want to stay there forever,
not having to wake up
and miss the alias of my youth.
I don’t want to wake myself
in the black wires of my self-hate
and deal with pain of not knowing myself.
I don’t want to live a lie
because of you,
one that I try to believe.
But I don’t want to live a life
without you,
the one where I want to be.
Because you made my life better,
and I don’t think I can do any better.
I don’t want to be the eternal lapse
that Omniscient’s eyes will see
because half of this bloodied battle
is to ensure that someday,
you’ll look into the Narcissist’s mirror
and see what I have in my way.
My place is my right,
I am here and I want to stay here.
It’s where I play the same blue song
and read this blue poem,
in my blue hopes to find some way
to say that you’re wrong.
And in my green hands
I will hold a blooming red
picked from my place’s greenlands:
let it be my hopeful heart
as I put it in the barrel of your gun.
So I return and return again
going to my own place—
the place where I’ve been—
where I know I can belong,
to love myself and someone else,
with hands to lace and fly forever.
Absolute M A N I A - Review
Fall Out Boy has released several albums over the years that were huge successes, such as From Under The Cork Tree, Infinity On High, and Take This To Your Grave. Recently, this band released its new album: M A N I A. However, they only revealed 4 of their songs. These songs are “The Last of the Real Ones,” “Champion,” “HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T,” and “Young And Menace.” The rest of their album is going to be released on January 19th, 2018, due to a delay in the premiere. Their genre of music in this album is alternative/rock, so if you don’t enjoy that kind of music, this album is not for you (all their albums have been alternative/rock, so far).
Starting off is the lure that binds from your eyes to the curious nature: the cover art. M A N I A’s image includes blues and purples, with whites and hues of pinks. In the center of the two laser-like lights toward the middle of the cover, there is a tidal wave pulling back and up, preparing to crash down on whatever can be theorized that is at the bottom. At the bottom in glowing lights reads the band name, with the letters “A” and “LP” in a more faint font. Purple not only stands for royalty, but it also stands for mystery, magic, power, and ambition. The color choice of purple and it’s meanings would support the name choices of the songs in it and also the title of the album itself.
However, in the title of M A N I A, the letters are spaced out by adding one more space every time. The final result is: M A N I A.
Common themes between the songs include ambition to do something (i.e. living through something in “Champion,” and the determination of “HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T.”) The theme of power is also commonly repeated in “Champion,” hence the title of the song and also a lyric, “If I can live through this, I can do anything.” Also, there is “The Last of the Real Ones”’s lyric “...write our names in the wet concrete.”
Writing your name in an area of wet concrete doesn’t have to be simply stating that you were there. “The Last of the Real Ones” is an overall way of indirectly leaving an inkling of insight into what M A N I A is as an album. A landmark within Hollywood, called the Hollywood Walk Of Fame, is where the biggest of stars make their marks. But for M A N I A, this is simply not the case. Fall Out Boy makes a statement, saying they were here. They’re making their names known, and letting everyone know they’ll be making history as a band.
Then, there’s also the inspiration for the purpose of writing the songs included in M A N I A. Pete Wentz, the bassist, lyricist, and backing vocalist of the band had a major influence over specific songs of the album. Pete’s depression (hinted at in “Young And Menace”) and suicidal thoughts were covered in a reference to Nikki Sixx dying twice. Also in “Young and Menace,” family issues of the band are referenced, including everything not being quite as it seems, which would develop the album’s thematic background.
In “Last of The Real Ones,” if you delve deep into the lyrics, Pete Wentz could be talking to Patrick Stump thanking him for helping him get through tough times, or even Pete talking to a theorized potential love interest. Patrick was the actual culprit for the creation of the line “I wonder if your therapist knows about me.” Also in this song, Fall Out Boy could be pointing out how the realest and most honest people are only few, as our society is brainwashed to think they are currently living in a utopia, when in reality, these “last of the real ones” can see that it’s actually a mess and is hardly ever perfect for everyone.
This thematic device of ominous elements, sense of defiance and questioning of society is what has taken M A N I A’s popularity to the band committee by storm. The album is filled with so many theories, ideas, and hidden meanings, such as the band’s trifles, and what they’ve gone through not only as artists, but also as people. These facets of who they are and what they do are commonly unknown amongst Fall Out Boy’s fan base, and these perfectly timed reveals into their aspects feed the curiosity of all the mysteriousness behind the ideas of M A N I A.
The final release of the full album of M A N I A (January 18th, 2018) was, however, quite misleading. Fall Out Boy had gotten all their fans’ hopes up by revealing the prerelease music, but it feels as if it was a let-down. On the other hand, it is not the lyrics and ballads in the music that feels like it was sour, but the sound of the music that went with it. It’s as if the sound being played didn’t match the tone or fill the expectation and standard that they had originally raised M A N I A up to being.
The overall thematic device of mystery and curiosity remained common in the rest of the following songs: “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea,” “Church,” “Heaven’s Gate,” “Sunshine Riptide,” and “Bishops Knife Trick.”
In “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea,” it is sung that “Seems like the whole damn world went and lost its mind, and all my childhood heroes have fallen off or died.” This song could be referencing the parental troubles that part of the band has gone through, as they stated their childhood heroes have gone away or died, making this mean possibly two things: some of their relatives (most likely parents) have left them or died, thus leaving them alone. Or, it is possibly the ones that they looked up to in the eyes of their youths. Curiosity shows in this metaphor as the wonder set in in their childhood minds, and mystery as to when/why these people left.
“Church” has several repeated lyrics throughout the song, which puts a lot of emphasis and meaning into them. “If you were church, I'd get on my knees. Confess my love, I'd know where to be. My sanctuary, you're holy to me.” There’s possibly a previous reference from Pete Wentz in “Last of the Real Ones,” where he could be talking to a love interest of his. “Church” could be referring to this person, or maybe it’s the relatives that left them in “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea.”
Overall, the album of M A N I A is portrayed as personal and challenging society, including getting over personal issues including those of family. However, if you enjoy headbanging violently or bobbing your head more slowly, M A N I A is carries enough variation in the elements of music, making it a great album, awaiting being listened to. Fall Out Boy has been a classic band since they started, and M A N I A is just the cherry that sits atop of it all.
Down Fall
She was bright. An absolute ray of sunshine that could change your awful mood to something better in a glance. She was absolutely stunning. She was my girlfriend, in fact. Her eyes were so full of euphoria, and not a bag of lethargy lay under them. They were an eccentric hazel, which complimented her tresses of warm brown. She didn't talk much, but her smile made up for those unspoken words.
Everyone envied her optimism when it was needed. What we didn't see, was that she had such a strong guise of innocence and content that hid what was truly going on in her head. She had a much deeper understanding of sadness than what any of us knew. She had a nature buried so deep inside of her that was just full of pessimism.
Even though I've dated her for 3 years, I failed to notice that when our hands weren't intertwined, hers shook. I was oblivious to the fact that she picked her cuticles till they bled. Whenever I questioned her about it, she'd flash one of her million-dollar smiles and say, “It's just a bad habit. Forget about it.” And the sad part is? I actually did forget about it.
I couldn't see that even during the warm, 80 degree summertimes we'd have, she'd still wear sweatshirts. I didn't see that she'd unconsciously rub her forearm and the nape of her neck. It was my fault that I hadn't noticed these little things beforehand.
We never noticed those “quirks.” We never thought about how she felt about specific topics. Her opinion was never valued by others. None of us understood that she had such a hidden cove of woe inside of her heart.
The last time she was seen was with me. We had gone to our favorite spot: the Edgar Jadwin dam. I'd sit her down on the rocky slope and I'd plop next to her, and sling our arms around each other. The two of us could just relax there, and talk about anything and everything. One of us could elbow the other playfully, and we'd end up doing that nonstop. We laughed, we talked, we enjoyed.
Yet, the month of May of 2016 was one of the worst possible times of my life. All couples had their little quarrels, and we did too. It could be, in my opinion, over the most stupid of things. But, I always took those arguments for granted, because I never acknowledged how much they meant to her, and how she just accepted that.
She snapped that month. Something inside of her was newly broken. The effect that I had on winning those tiffs took their toll on her, and changed her for the worst.
The first Monday was when it began. After school, the two of us strolled down to Jadwin, fingers laced together. When we had made it there, we had our normal conversation.
“So, how were things today?” I asked, smiling down at her.
She hesitated at first, and then twirled a lock of her hair. “They… they were fine.”
“It doesn't sound fine,” I said, making a sour face.
“I told you I was fine.”
I sighed heavily. “I feel like you aren't being honest.”
“N-no! Would I lie to you?”
“Not at all!” I threw my hands up defensively.
At that moment, I didn't recognize the idea that she had slumped that conversation off of her shoulders and ignored it. Actually, she didn't ignore it. I just ignored it. And now, as I debate this, it truly killed her inside that I didn't question her further.
She leaned her head on my shoulder, tracing “Xs” on her thigh with her finger. After a little while, she looked up at me with those big and innocent eyes and asked me a question that I didn't think she would ever ask.
“Do you love me?”
I blinked. What? I stared at her with an expressionless gaze.
A drop of melancholy slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with her sleeve. “...d-do you?”
“O-of course I do! Why would you ask me that?”
She winced and rubbed her arm. “I-I just wanted to be reassured…”
“But I do love you! I care about you so, so much! Every star in the entire galaxy could explode right now, and we'd be on the brink of death, and I'd still love you,” I said, my voice slightly breaking.
“Y-you're scaring me,” she whimpered.
“I'm scaring you? You're scaring me by making it seem like you're doubting our relationship!”
Another stream fell down her cheek, and she didn't wipe it away. “P-please,” she asked, her voice shaking, “just stop. Please, I just want to sit here, and relax, with you. I-I'm sorry, please don't be upset…”
“It's okay.”
She swallowed hard, clenching her eyes. “Do you ever feel like… someday, after all the tension and pushing and shoving of the water against this dam, that just… someday it'll burst, and wash away everything we've ever known?”
I didn't answer her. I was too fed up that I had said it was “okay” when in reality, it really wasn't.
And with that, our argument ended, not another word uttered. No “see you in school tomorrow,” or any “I love you.” There was no hug or kiss. There was no “goodbye.”
For the rest of the week, there was no hearing from her. I never saw her again. It was like she vanished in some twisted magic act. Gone, and the audience watching couldn't figure out where she went. It made my heart, my brain, and my stomach hurt like hell as rumors about her spread like the Black Plague.
“I heard she ran away because her parents beat her.”
“Nah, that can't be it. She sold herself to some dude in an alleyway.”
“Guys, what if she's just extremely sick?”
None of those rumors compared to the truth of what had happened to her. Her name was plastered on telephone poles, the school’s cork-board, and on park benches. Her parents were out, searching for her. Our group of friends were out, searching for her. I was out, searching for her. Any way to locate her proved fruitless.
I cried for her. Every individual day she was missing felt like a bat smashing against the glass that was my heart. I left school early every day that I could in order to find her. And yet, I never thought to check the last place: where we were together that day.
It was the last period of the day. I had math class, and it was 15 minutes till school let out, yet the teachers still yelled for me to come back as I ran down the hallway. I pushed the doors open with my sudden burst of adrenaline, and sprinted past cars and people that were crowding the streets. I ran, in a desperate attempt to get to her.
My face was sprayed with dripping sweat, I could tell my face was red by the burning I felt, and I wheezed as I fought to catch my breath. I skidded to a stop as I reached the edge of the dam, nearly sliding off into the water below. But then, those beads of sweat turned into searing hot tears as I analyzed the view below me.
Her brown hair was spread across the tension of the water. She was painfully pale, which was worse than normal. Her sweatshirt that I loved so much was gone. Her limp frame was bruised and beaten, and large gashes were carved into her skin. The worst part that sickened me so were her eyes:
Her hazel eyes that were once energetic and bright were now glossed over, staring back at me helplessly. I could peel back layers deeper into them and see shreds of downcast.
Laid across the liquid coffin, was the body of my Thalia Mel Drammer.
Chrysalis
The space inside the sun-bleached, pale yellow Volkswagen Jetta was silent and heavy. The weighted sighs Rachel and Daniel took weren't enough to fill the silence not filled by happy 2000s pop tunes that played on the radio. Rachel sat with her hands folded in her lap, and her legs crossed. Daniel cracked the window to let out the pressure in the car. He shook his left leg as if it had a cramp. "It's really nice out today," Daniel said.
"Yeah. It is."
"The sun feels nice on my arm," he said as sunlight from the cracked window cut across his arm.
"That's great."
Daniel sighed heavily, even with a bit of frustration. "Look, I'm sorry," he said bluntly, his eyes not meeting
Rachel's when she turned her head to look at him. He continued to stare forward at the road.
"Stop apologizing, Dan. I told you it wasn't your fault," Rachel replied sharply.
"But that doesn't stop it from feeling like it is."
"Well, you need to get over it."
"How can you even say that?"
"How about you try going to the morgue? How about you pick flowers in a bouquet that you don't even want?" Rachel sat facing her window as much as she could. Her hands mechanically straightened the cards that rested in her lap.
"I'm sorry I didn't go with you."
Rachel scoffed. "Can you stop apologizing? I told you it was okay, god damn it. I'm sick of hearing 'I'm sorry for this,' and 'I'm sorry about that.' I just want all this sorrow and grief to, I don’t know, evaporate."
Daniel was silent. He put his hand on Rachel's folded palms.
Rachel pulled her hands away from him. "I'm not in the mood."
"Can you stop pulling away from me? You've been this way for the past three months since June. I know your brother–"
"Dan," Rachel pleaded, her voice shaking and breaking, "just please stop talking about it."
Daniel looked at Rachel finally, and when he did, she looked down at her feet. Her eyes began to well up with tears. He closed his mouth. He didn't mean for her to get upset. But since June, that was the only thing she seemed to do. She'd been busy planning and preparing and trying to scrounge up every bit of spare change she had left. All she wanted was something worthy of her brother. She loved him and wanted everything for him. In life, she wanted it all just for him. In death, it was all for him, too.
Daniel couldn't blame her for feeling so miserable. If it were his brother, he'd feel miserable too. Daniel knew he wasn't Rachel either, but if he were, he would've wanted Rachel to ease his pain. He couldn't fathom wanting to push others away, especially during tragic months like these. But for some reason, Rachel didn't care about that.
Every day had been the same thing for her: 1.) Wake up. 2.) Cry. 3.) Ignore all meals of the day. 4.) Cry some more until bedtime. 5.) Cry until she fell asleep. Rachel had kicked Daniel out of their bedroom, too, after he tried to snuggle her while her eyelashes were dense with salty tears. She snapped at him, cursed at him, and forced him to go out onto the couch in the living room. "I said I don't want you to touch me, Daniel! Just leave me alone!" she'd said.
In response to her anger, Daniel did leave her alone. She went to go pick out a headstone for the grave alone, wrote out a poetic epitaph without consulting him, and decided what coffin her brother would lie in without even texting Daniel. He thought that she didn't want him there to bother her. But now, he was left to apologize for doing what Rachel originally wanted him to do. That didn't seem to be the case in the conversation of body language between the two of them.
Suddenly, Rachel smacked the radio until it turned off. It was static for a moment, and then the happy singing abruptly stopped. She crossed her arms and looked out the window, leaning her head on her seatbelt. Her lips were pursed tightly, and bags hung from her sullen cheekbones. Her blue eyes were watery and bloodshot from hours of stuffy-nosed crying through restless sleep.
Daniel looked at her dejectedly. He wanted to say something to her, but he just didn't know how. How did you comfort someone in the middle of grief? How did you talk to them when you weren't even sure if they wanted you to? He couldn't think of anything to say but sorry. "Stop thinking that you want to apologize, Dan."
"What? I didn't even say anything."
"I know what you're thinking. It doesn't take much."
"I don't know if I should feel complimented or insulted by that," he said with a tired smile and a half-hearted, sheepish laugh.
Rachel neither replied nor laughed.
He let out an awkward sigh. "I know I shouldn't be joking in times like this. I know what you're feeling."
"Do you? Do you know what I'm feeling? My brother is dead. Your sisters aren't dead. Your parents aren't dead. Do you expect to know what it's like to pour the past three months down the drain?"
"I don't have to know a dead person to know what it's like to be in grief, Rachel. However, I can say that I don't know what you've wanted me to do about it. These last few months have been quiet and lonely without you because you haven't wanted to talk to me until today."
"What're you even talking about?"
"You snapped at me earlier for not going to pick out flowers for his coffin. I didn't go because you said you wanted privacy. I didn't go because I thought you didn't want to see me. I didn't go because you told me not to go. So I listened. I didn't go."
She was silent, still not meeting his eyes and staring out the window.
"I can't apologize to you because you yelled at me and told me to stop saying sorry."
"Well, what do you want me to do about it, Daniel? Smile and say that I'm okay? Ignore the whole situation? Disregard the fact that I feel so sad?"
"No, I wouldn't ask you to be fake or just purge any feelings. That's not what I would ever want from you. I just want you to trust me and talk to me instead of bottling everything up and shutting me out. That's all I've wanted."
She let out a shaky breath. "I just don't know what to do with myself. Every day has been the same heart-wrenching thing."
"You can always ask me if you need anything, Rach. You know I'd be there. Since your brother's death, you haven't wanted me to help you. And that help was coming from a genuine place of concern."
"I know."
"And when I wasn't asking, you got annoyed. What do you want me to do? I want you to feel better. I'd do anything to help that."
She didn't know what to say. A few starts of sentences croaked out from her mouth, but none of them stayed.
By this point, their old Volkswagen Jetta was pulling into the white lines in the parking lot. Daniel turned the wheel and parked the car. The parking lot was full of people dressed in black. Some were smiling with tear-stained cheeks and blotchy faces. Others were stoically silent as they milled around the parking lot. The air was full of hushed chatter, like understood respect for the dead. It reminisced about funny memories of Rachel's brother, like the time he fell off of the roof drunk during his 21st birthday party but miraculously didn't get injured.
Daniel rolled up the windows and unbuckled his seatbelt. He opened the door and got out, tightening his black tie closer to his neck. He smoothed out his black clothes and combed back his dark hair with his hands. He adjusted his belt and tucked his shirt into his pants more. He reached into the back and grabbed his black blazer, careful to not crease it.
Rachel was still in the car, her seatbelt still on and the same, empty stare on her face as she looked out the window. Daniel frowned, and he walked around the front of the car after he shut the door. A chip of pale yellow paint flaked off of it. Rachel's eyes followed him, moving as he came up to her window. He opened her door.
Daniel knelt down next to her. She simply stared at him. He took her hands in his, her dead cold and his warm. He kissed her hands, and his lips felt cool when he touched her skin. Daniel shivered. "I know you don't want to go. We can stay out here for a little bit and get some sun. We don't have to go into the building right away," he said.
"How am I going to move on, Daniel? When does it start? Where does it start?"
"It starts when you decide it should."
"But what if I don't know?" She said meekly, her blue eyes dripping tears onto his knuckle.
"You will know, eventually. A lot of people don't get over stuff like this, but I think you will."
Rachel got up from her seat and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her body began shaking as she heaved, heavy with crying. Daniel could feel teardrops gently landing on his blazer and spreading. "I'm sorry," she let out, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into his shoulder.
"What did I say to you about apologizing?"
She sobbed, "I miss him so much."
"It takes time, Rach. It's time I'm willing to wait. It's time I'm willing to help you with. I love you."
Daniel let her go, but Rachel hung onto him for just a second more. He stood up and helped her out of the car.
She smoothed out her black dress and wiped her tears on her cheek away with her finger. She breathed in through her congestion.
They began walking to the funeral home, side by side. Daniel locked the car, and the Jetta honked as they left it. As they passed, people tried to say hello to the two of them. Daniel responded and stopped to shake hands and receive condolences, but they should've been for Rachel.
She seemed numb and unresponsive to the people smiling through their tears at her. She awkwardly rubbed her arm and stared at the ground. Her pale blonde hair blew in the breeze, and so did a couple more tears. She sniffed and they vanished. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Your brother was truly a wonderful man," a small, wizened woman said to her. The woman shook Rachel's hand gingerly, as if Rachel were a Fabergé egg.
Daniel and Rachel continued their walk to the door that felt more like a hike. Rachel's heels scraped against the pavement. Her sniffles seemed louder. The cypress trees lining the parking lot rustled. The funeral home's door opened and closed as people walked past them and headed inside. When the two of them reached the door, a dapper-looking young man in a black suit opened the door for them.
The funeral home had light molding with walls of beige and white. It was a rectangularly shaped room with chairs in rows of three, like pews at a church. A Persian rug reached from the entrance to the decorated box at the head of the room.
Rachel's lip began to quiver at the sight of the casket at the front of the room. It was made of a long, dark brown wood that seemed to match the room’s decor. It was closed with a bronze-colored latch. A red, white, and blue flag trifold was set on the middle of the box. White orchids were in a bundle above the casket.
Daniel took Rachel's hand, and they sat down at the empty spot at the front of the pews. She swallowed and cleared her throat, rubbing it roughly. Her skin was pale, and her hands were growing clammy as he held them. He put his arm carefully around her small body, shocked to see that she didn't pull away. It was nice if he ignored the fact that they were at a funeral.
“What a Wonderful World” started to fade from the radio. An ancient man wearing a priest's robe slowly wobbled his way up to the altar that was adjacent to the casket. His dark skin was wrinkled with smile lines, which struck Daniel as ironic.
The people dressed in black behind them dabbed their eyes with tissues as they watched the priest walk up to the altar. Once he had gotten there, he began to speak kind words of who Rachel's brother was and what he'd done in all twenty-five years of his life, how he'd been in the army since he was nineteen, and the impact of his service.
When the priest finished, Rachel and her brother's loved ones walked up to the altar and said their words of condolence. Someone again mentioned the time he fell off of the roof drunk for the first time but didn't get hurt. A fellow soldier saluted him and talked of the fun times they had during their service of sending letters and feeling like they were in those classic romance movies of lovers torn apart by the military.
Rachel's father folded his hands in front of him and recounted when his son was young and couldn't catch a football for the life of him. He spoke of how happy he was when his only son looked grateful for his father’s efforts, even if he didn't catch the ball. His eyes began to water, and he blinked uncontrollably before sitting
down next to his wife as she got up for her turn.
Her mother only managed to croak out, "I love my son," before she began weeping and speaking incoherently. She tried to talk of the time he'd gotten the worst stomach ache of his entire childhood because of her cooking, but he ate it anyway because he "didn't want to hurt mommy's feelings." When her story was over, she gave a nod of acknowledgment to Rachel. Rachel didn't reciprocate as she kept staring at the trifold on the casket.
Silence filled the room as Rod Stewart’s “Forever Young” played. The procession behind them looked at her in confusion, but she didn't meet their eyes. "I can't do it," she said quietly, turning to Daniel, "I can't go up there."
"It'll be okay," Daniel whispered.
"I don't want to do this, Dan."
"I know you don't."
"Why do I have to do this?"
"You need to say goodbye to him, Rach. To get better. To heal."
"It all starts from somewhere, right?"
He gave her a reassuring smile.
She awkwardly straightened her cards as she approached the stand, her heels scuffing the floor as they did outside. She played with the end of her knee-length dress and took a large, shaky breath. She didn't want to speak. Even with her cards in front of her, she couldn't figure out what to say.
Rachel opened her mouth to talk, but she didn't make it as far as her mother did before she broke down. She gripped the edge of the ornate podium, her arms shaking and wrist veins popping out as she struggled to hold herself up. Tears frantically began to fall from her cheeks and onto the Bible opened in front of her. A drop landed in the middle of Revelation 21:4. "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
She pursed her lips and then bit her lower lip, causing a rip in the skin. It bled for a moment as she sucked it away, and then she began to speak as a couple words escaped her lips, “He wanted better for me than this.”
Daniel mouthed to her, “I’m here,” but Rachel could only make out “Heal.”
“He wouldn't have wanted us to suffer for him like this. To cry for him and let the pieces of ourselves that we shared with him to die with him. He'd be laughing in the face of death. He wanted better than this.”
Some of the people in the pews looked at her in surprise.
“I love him more than anything. I spent months crying his name and speaking to it. I thought if I worried about it that maybe it would be as if he never left. I pushed away my relationships so I could hold the one I shared with him closer…”
She dropped her cards, some landing on the altar's lower shelf and others on the floor. Her grip lessened, and the veins in her wrists slowly faded back into themselves. She sighed, wiped her eyes, and then made her fingers curl into a fist. Rachel looked out the glass door several feet ahead of her.
Light cut across her eyes, making her blue eyes shine, and the tears on her cheeks sparkle. Her sharp cheekbones rounded out in the sun, and her skin glowed. She let out a sigh of relief as the sun was setting. “I’m not afraid anymore,” she whispered, barely audible. She bent down and picked up her cards with scribbled words and teardrops on them. She straightened them again and left them on the altar next to the wax candles.
Rachel walked over to his casket, putting her hand on the bronze latch. With her other free hand, she gripped the trifold and brought it to her chest. “I will not fear your death,” she said aloud.
The glass doors glowed warm yellow as the sun was cut into a semicircle behind the tall cypress trees, making them take on an orange hue. She still faced her brother's casket as her lips curved into a smile—the first time she smiled in three months. She brought the trifold to her eyes and wiped her tears that quickly began to overflow.
Rachel turned to face everyone, and then she briskly walked out of the funeral home. She pushed the door open, and it almost seemed like she was vaporized by the golden light. The mourners looked around in disbelief, obviously confused. Rachel's mother and father stared pointedly at Daniel, almost as if to say, “Well? Aren't you going to get her?”
Daniel adjusted his tie and stood up. As he rose, everyone’s eyes followed him. They looked confused, with cocked heads and eyebrows. He quickly followed after Rachel, leaving the people inside to choose between waiting or continuing with the funeral service. He and his shadow vanished into the sunlight.
He didn't see where Rachel went. The park benches out front were empty, any stoops she could've sat on were empty, and the trees hardly seemed like they were hiding anything. Daniel had to wonder if she left the funeral altogether. He walked around the parking lot, checking in between the black, white, and tan cars, including one obnoxiously red truck. Finally, he looked for the Jetta.
Daniel approached the pale yellow car. The windows were rolled down, and the cheesy 2000s pop music was playing. Rachel was sitting in front of the car, the trifold clutched to her chest. She was humming to the song playing on the radio. She waved her finger in the air as if she were conducting, apparently oblivious that
Daniel was coming.
He leaned against the hood of the car, crossing his arms. There was only silence between them except for the humming from her lips. Her eyes were closed, but then she suddenly stopped her song. "Hi," she said to him.
"Uh, hi," he replied.
She continued to hum.
"Are you okay, Rach?"
"I could always be better."
"Well, do you feel any better?"
She took a moment to respond, tapping her finger on her chin. "Getting better is an intense process."
"What?"
"It's a long one, too."
"What do you mean?"
"I've spent so many days wasting myself away in my room, Dan. Wasting away days of my life I'm never going to get back."
"It wasn't for nothing, I promise—"
"Can you let me finish? I," she inhaled, "want to explain myself."
He closed his mouth, taken aback. "Okay."
She gripped the flag in her hands. “I'm never going to get those days back again. My brother might be dead, and part of me might be too. But he wouldn't want me to live my life worrying about something that's not going to change.”
The sun was beginning to set in front of them. The tendrils of the sun reached over the arch and circular window at the front of the funeral home. The sky swirled with dark purple and pink with gold leaking in between. The bright yellow crescent moon began to rise behind them.
The black parking lot was now in the shade, making the white cars turn lilac, lavender, and violet. Rachel and Daniel's black funeral attire turned into an even darker black. Rachel's flag became several different colors of purple, like the cars. The remaining light cut across the tops of their heads like natural halos.
“I need to get over him, Daniel,” Rachel said, “He's dead. I'm never gonna see him again.”
“Yes, but how you remember him is your choice.”
“My choice?”
“To get better,” he laughed awkwardly, “you have to decide when you want to move on.”
“That's all it’s about? Moving on?”
“I mean, I guess so.”
They sat and watched as the sun crept towards the horizon. Mourners made their way out of the funeral home, evidently avoiding approaching Rachel and Daniel. They sat and watched as the last golds gave way to purples and violets. They sat and watched until the sun was gone and the sky was black.
Rachel broke their silence, saying, “I have to get out of here.” Daniel gave her an inquisitive look. “I want to do something.”
“Like what?"
“Anything,” she said, smiling to herself.
“We can't just do ‘anything,’”
“‘Anything’ as in something that will get us away from this funeral home.”
Daniel looked shocked, blinking a few times in confusion, “What? But shouldn't we find your parents?” He hesitated. “Out of respect?”
Rachel laughed. “I think they’ll forgive me just this once. And my brother would want me out of our house after being a lump in our bedroom.”
“Well, we can always go out and get food or something if that's what you want.”
“Food sounds good right about now,” she replied, her stomach rumbling.
Daniel stepped away from the car, opening the door for her.
“Wait.”
“What’s up?” He cocked his head.
“I want to do something first.”
“Okay, what do you want to do?”
“Get in the car. I'm driving.”
And with her order, he obliged. He hopped into the passenger’s seat that usually was hers. Rachel got into the driver’s seat and put her seatbelt on. Daniel tossed her the keys from his pocket, and then she put them into the ignition. The engine came to life, and she turned up the radio’s volume to more bad 2000s pop music.
They rolled the windows down and began to drive. They drove out of the parking lot and into the night as fast as the moon was rising. The leaves fell from their trees as the car crunched the leaves that littered the pavement. Other vehicles drove past them.
Finally, they pulled into the Riverbed Rest Graveyard and drove past thousands upon thousands of white and gray headstones. Rachel slowly drove them through the many roads that skipped between the rows of graves and hedge groves. They weaved to the middle of the cemetery, stopping at a small, smooth, light gray stone. Rachel's brother's name was engraved on it, along with his birth date and estimated death date.
She got out of the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition. She grabbed the trifold from the dashboard and walked over to his grave. There was a large hole dug out in the dark green grass in front of the stone. Roots hung from the sides and white pebbles of soil poked out. A mound of dirt stood next to the hole. There were dozens of white flowers on top of the casket that rested at the hole’s bottom.
Rachel brought the trifold to her chest, closing her eyes. She kissed it, said something that Daniel couldn't quite hear as he was getting out of the car. She walked behind the headstone and leaned the flag against his headstone. “I know you can’t hear this, but I feel some part of you everywhere I go,” she whispered. “I'm done crying for you. I love you.”
Rain
Ever-growing darkness rolled across the hills like waves as they barreled closer and closer to the large, paneled window. The incoming clouds were pregnant with heavy rain as I pulled up a stool and put my elbows on the sill. The single, green-leafed maple tree stood on the tip of the hill, reaching for the sky with its twig arms like a baby grasping for its mother's breast. The rumbling rain clouds eventually covered the tree in darkness, saturating the leaves and making them rustle with eager excitement.
Eventually, little droplets began to pelt my window, making little tink tink tinks as they landed. The clearness and round, black shaded edges fascinated me. My head moved with the sky's milk down the glass until it eventually trickled off and onto the pale blue vinyl of my house. The rain got faster and faster against the pane, going from hundreds of drops to thousands a minute until they formed a large stream that spread across the yard.
The tree became a green smudge as I stared intently out the window. Its branches swayed from side to side like a toddler teetering with its first steps. My ears imagined hearing the rain hitting the leaves, making intense pitter-patters as the rain droned slowly on. The low mumbles of thunder melded with the rain landing on my window, creating a soft but baritone lullaby as if it were putting the tree to sleep.
I jumped as a large, heavy, hand was put on the sleeve of my blue shirt. I turned around to see my father, the indentations on the corners of his mouth flexing and his crow's feet curling as he smiled. "Hey, kiddo," he said.
I was silent, still staring at the tree doing its rain dance outside.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"It's raining."
He laughed with a slight rasp.
"What's so funny?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"You've always loved the rain. You never stopped watching it when you were little. Summers like this were spent with you propping up your footstool and peering your little blue eyes over the sill because you were too short to see over it. I remember you begging me to pick you up and hold you so you could see."
"I don't know what it is about it." I leaned forward, putting my arm on the sill and resting my head on my hand.
Dad pulled up a blue-painted wooden chair, the legs skittering against the ground with a loud screech. He sat down next to me and put his hand on my leg. He began to watch the rain stream down the windows in a flourish, eyes following it downwards. His eyes were a dark brown, murky mud puddle, fresh from after a rainstorm. “Your mother liked the rain just as much as you do,” he said finally.
I pursued my lips at hearing that.
“It was the only thing that calmed her down when she needed it. It’s funny that the same thing happened for you.”
“She doesn’t like it very much anymore.”
“Oh,” he said quietly, the wrinkles of his eyes drooping, “I guess.”
“Listen, dad...”
“We filed the divorce on a rainy day.”
We sat and listened to the rain.
“I was born on a rainy day.”
“That was the best day of my life,” he said, his eyes lighting up. We listened to the rain falling on the roof. “I even proposed to her on a rainy day.”
“I’m sad she doesn’t play outside in the rain with me anymore.”
“I’m just happy you didn’t lose your love of rain like she did.”
“I don’t think I ever would.”
The clouds pulled over my house like a child pulling up a quilted blanket over his or her head, getting ready for bed. As time went on, the rain slowed down. The flooding of the window eventually stopped. The pane was dotted with the little rain droplets, some falling from the top and clustering with other droplets. Some clung to the window, barely holding on with their immense weight and trying to hold themselves up.
The tree's leaves drooped like they were sad that the rain had stopped as if playtime was over. They hung low, the rain slowly gathering its weight on the tips of green leaves and eventually falling down, causing themselves to ricochet back up again. Dewdrops covered the blades of grass lining the rolling hills, creating glimmers as the sun peeked out around the dissipating rain clouds. Puddles were formed on the muddy pathway up to the tree, ready to grab someone's rain boots and yank them into the ground.
The rainstorm was over, and so was my curiosity. I got up, shaking my dad's hand off my leg. I took my stool and put it back by the table behind us, the same skittering screech announcing itself as I dragged it. I headed for the archway that went from the bay window to the door and the front porch. "Where ya going, kiddo?" My father asked.
I turned to look at him as I smiled. "I'm going to go play in the puddles."
And with that, I pulled on my yellow rubber rain boots and my navy rain coat over my shoulders and arms. I swung my keys around my finger as I took them off their hook. I opened the door and ran outside, my boots creating craters in the freshly watered dirt and flecks of mud on my blue jeans.
Outside the blue vinyl house, the air was misty with light condensation as I walked through it. I turned the corner and headed to our sedan, the puddles clapping with every step. I slid in the door and put my keys in the ignition. I turned on the wipers as they bent and curved across the glass, making water spray from the windshield. Putting my hands on the wheel, I stepped on the gas, causing mud to fly into the air and fall back to the earth.
Thunder
The sphere was some metal he had never seen before, like steel but with a faint blue hue. It stood out about three feet from the earth, and where it was exposed to the air, lightning struck it repeatedly, illuminating his surroundings with each strike. “That’s it!” Erin shouted over the whipping wind, the crackling of lightning, and pelting of heavy rain. She peered her stormy gray eyes over the sliver of the grass on the cliff.
“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get it, Erin,” James yelled to her, his feet unstable on the muddy ground of the hill, “Not without electrocuting myself!”
The sparse number of leafy green trees blew violently in the wind, throwing sharp water pellets straight at their faces. It stung their faces, but they’d been in worse scenarios before: the horrible smell of sulfur and burning iron when they had to retrieve the fire geode, and the water filling their lungs like pneumonia when the ocean crystal was sinking deeper and deeper into the whirlpool.
But for some reason, the lightning sphere was terrifying to James. He could feel himself losing his stance on the ground, whether it be from fatigue and the verge of passing out or from the earth itself beginning to turn into a mudslide. His hands were so sweaty he could’ve bent the liquid off of his palms with the ocean crystal. In fact, it seemed like a good idea until he remembered Erin had it. “James! What do you want me to do?” Erin yelled from just a few feet above him, her voice barely heard while she fiddled in her pockets for any element she could be using.
“Stop the rain! Stop the wind!” James ordered.
Luckily, Erin had an affinity for the air stone and the ocean crystal. She stood up and took her ground, sinking her feet into the grass and mud of her cliff. She tossed them in her hands, warming them up. Then, she spread her arms out.
With that, the waving of the trees abruptly stopped in its place. They were frozen in time, bending to the side and their leaves stuck in a position as if they were being blown. Every blade of grass in the wide field stood in a straight diagonal. The rain ceased, the droplets of water in the air like ornaments hanging in the sky. The only thing that kept moving on through what seemed like a time warp was the lightning, louder and ten times more deafening than it was.
James couldn’t decide on what to do. Erin was struggling as if she was about to be crushed by the sky’s weight. The veins in her wrists were popping out, and her eyes and mouth were clenched like she was biting something. “Make a choice. Fast, please!” she said through her teeth.
He backed up on the hill, apprehensive to run down and obtain the thunder metal. But then, the ground began to move beneath his feet he didn’t have time to make a decision. He lost his footing and began to slide down the hill, the hill following suit. He let out a yell and then ran down the mudslide towards the hunk of metal sticking out of the ground.
James’s dirty sneakers beat against the grass. The shape of his shoes were imprinted behind him like he was an imperfection moving through the frozen time warp. His blue jeans and gray shirt were heavy with water, the fabric stuck to his skin. He shoved his hand in his pocket, blindly and frantically searching for the fire geode. He flinched when his already sweaty fingertips warmed, sending heat up his arm and into his shoulder.
He pulled the small orange and red crystal from his pocket, rubbing it between his fingers and heating it up. It was crystalline with flames pulsing through, turning angular and yellow towards the end. He moved it to the middle of his hand, the power arcing through his veins. Then, he continued to run at the metal sticking out of the ground.
The metal itself was like a reverse-crater: it was a silver, perfectly spherical dome. Lightning broke the ground as James ran through it. His ears blared as the thunder roared. The rain suspended in the air soaked through his blond hair and clothes.
In his sprint, he broke it as he dug his heels into the mud. Erin shouted far behind him, yelling for him to hurry. James looked behind him, seeing Erin tremble from the power of the stones in her hands. He stopped in front of the sphere, almost to the point of touching it. Energy pulsed through the ground beneath his feet and moved up his body. His mouth tasted like he was crunching on a ball of tinfoil.
He clenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. James gripped the fire geode tighter in his hand, feeling the heat expand through the cracks of his fingers. Fiery light escaped with the heat, glowing brighter and brighter until the illusion—no, actual fire was burning through his hand. Then, he released his force on his hand, and the fire erupted from his palm. The fire geode floated in front of the middle, expelling flames at the metal. Heat shifted from his arm to his whole body, making him sweat even more. The veins in his hands and wrists began to pop out, along with his arm muscles flexing.
The fire erupting from the geode and his hand began to encase the sphere, combining with the light blue hue around it, making the flames turn from orange to bright blue. Then, the steel circle began to melt, the side caving in on itself with blue liquid dripping off of it. Once the side caved in, James jumped into the side. The whole center underneath the sphere was hollow. He went on his hands and knees, still holding his hand in the air above him, fire still melting the half-circle. He began to struggle underneath the crippling weight of the fire power.
The grass he crawled through was faded green, almost brown. The taste of tinfoil in his mouth grew stronger, making his eyes water and cooling down his cheeks. James crawled as swift as he could through the sphere, the metal above him liquefying and close to melting his clothes off of his body.
In the center of the sphere, there was a smooth, round, pebble-sized rock floating. It pulsed with lightning through the sphere, making the hairs on his arms and neck stand up. It was the thunder metal: the very mythical object that erected the sphere from the ground. As James got a closer look, he noticed light blue cracks throughout it. It looked identical like the very sphere he was in. There was a light blue aura around it, crackling with electricity.
James gripped his fingers around the fire geode in his other hand. The flames erupting from his palm was extinguished, but the heat in that very hand grew hotter. He shoved the hot stone in his pocket, and looked at the result from using it. His hand was pulsing and bright red, stinging every time he tightened a muscle in it. They were first degree burns, and James could feel a blister forming in the center of his palm where the fire geode floated. Second degree.
James bit down on his lip and swallowed his pain. He continued to crawl towards the thunder metal, extending his hand out to it. The electricity began to crack toward him, as if it had a mind of its own and was reaching out to him as well. His fingertips touched the electric energy coming toward him, feeling sparks of energy connect to his veins.
Then, suddenly, the metal came flying into his palm. He shuddered, jumping back like he was shocked. The thunder metal was now bound to him, and James could feel an extension of his own power grow. Electricity surged through him. It must’ve been how Erin felt when she obtained the ocean crystal and the air stone.
Just as the thunder metal came into contact with him, a large chunk of the metal sphere with blue fire liquid fell next to his leg, sending a large wave of heat up his side. He jolted his leg away, brushing away the blue fire that was trying to eat at his pants. Then just three feet away from his arm, another chunk of metal glowing with blue energy fell near him. The metal sphere was breaking off in lumps, cracks weaving through what remained of the gray surface. Without the thunder metal, the sphere was falling apart.
James jumped up. There was no time to dust himself off. He shoved the pebble with light blue cracks into his pocket, instantly feeling warmth spread down his leg. Then, he began to run towards a large hole on the opposite side of the hollow house of the thunder metal.
The side of the reverse-crater he entered through collapsed behind him, falling like dominoes behind him. As he looked up, there was a large crack high above his head that continued all the way to the side of the sphere that he was running towards. Chunks of metal with blue fire and hue fell around him. He was sweating profusely, wishing he had the ocean crystal. Erin was lucky she had control over those elements, he thought.
Suddenly, as he was running and was close to the end of the sphere, the cracks above him arced into the shape of a gigantic triangle and dropped rocks from the roof. The shape cracking into the ceiling above him then fell, like the cavern was going to crush him. He jumped to the side, almost squashed like a bug between the burning grass floor and a large stalactite.
James felt his adrenaline pulsing through his arms, making the blister on his hand feel like it was ready to explode. That was one downfall of using the fire geode: the heat from it was so strong that it could even cause major heat damage to the user. James didn’t want Erin to have to face that pain herself: it was what he had to do as her older brother.
He jumped back up again. The portion of the metal that fell from the sky was now a curve that lead up to the hole itself. James smirked to himself. That was his exit. All he had to do was climb the curves of the chunk of the metallic sphere and he would be free. Just as another blue-hot rock fell down next to him, he raced as fast as he could to the newly-made makeshift ramp. There were crags and angles for James to grab onto, and he did just that. He put his hands tightly on the edges, pulling himself up like it was a rock climbing wall.
Blue flames ate at the air around him. Parts of his jeans and shirt were singed with black soot, the fire burning holes into his clothes. Sweat dripped off of his brow and upper lip, and his whole body was wet with it. He messed up his footing as he almost slipped on a piece of the ramp that fell far below him.
Finally, he reached the top. Before he could do anything, he had to get back to Erin. He narrowed his stormy gray eyes, and saw her. She was on her knees on the little plateau of grass and stone on the hill, sweating with the weight of the wind and rain on her shoulders. She looked like she was about to pass out, her face and body also wet with sweat like James.
The lightning that struck the ground around the sphere vanished, taking the smell of sulfur from the air and the taste of crinkled up tinfoil in his mouth with it. The sphere behind James continued to erupt with blue flames that continued to eat at the sky. All that was left of the sphere was the very ground he stood on, which was about one quarter of the size that the sphere originally was. He was standing on an arc of the metal, which was slowly flickering into fading with the light blue energy. With the thunder metal out of its possession and into James’s, it couldn’t sustain its own energy itself.
Meanwhile as the flames continued to lick the air, Erin was holding up the skies. The rain still hung in the air like little icicles hanging onto a house’s roof. The trees were still bent as if wind was blowing them, but there was no wind to feel against skin anyways. The flashes of light were nonexistent as the lightning metal was taken.
James stared down at the ground below him, which was burning with little blue embers. He hesitated. He took a few steps back, again nearly losing his footing and falling back into the flames as the stone fell from underneath his feet. He then ran forward with shocking traction as his feet were in a mix of wet mud yet cracked and dry dirt. He jumped far out, landing on the ground. The entry back to the outside of the shell of storm energy would’ve been ten times more slick if it weren’t for the fact that he face-planted, taking a full face of dirt.
Jumping back up for what felt like the one hundredth time, he then broke into a sprint towards Erin. He cheered loudly, thunder metal in hand. He fist-pumped, yelling at Erin, “Hey! Hey! Release the rain and wind! I got the next element!”
Erin dropped on all fours, the ocean crystal and air stone still clenched in her fists. She rolled onto her back, letting go of her elements. Her breath was heavy and her hair was drenched with sweat. Her muscles looked like jelly, tensing up and then releasing again. She held the rain and wind for an exceedingly long amount of time, more than what James had anticipated.
As soon as Erin landed on her back, the rain that was suspended in the air then fell violently to the earth and making a large sloshing sound like a tsunami. The wind began to blow again, which made the trees whip and whirl with a fun little dance as if they were happy that weather was continuing on like normal. The rain that was falling with heavy force felt good on James’s body that now ached like crazy since his adrenaline rush was receding.
James climbed up the mudslide of what was left of the hill, his shoes collecting a thick coat of mud on their soles. He kneeled next to her, propping her up against his leg. “Please tell me you still have it,” Erin asked tiredly, almost breathless like she’d gotten the wind knocked out of her. She moved her hand towards the blue crystal and smooth, sandy-colored stone. She held them loosely, sliding them into the pocket of her blue jeans before dropping her hand back down again. James gave her a cheeky grin. He pulled out the cracky blue pebble, rolling it around in circles between his thumb and his index finger. “You bet,” he said.
Erin let out an intense breath of relief. “Thank God.”
“I agree. My hands are so burned from using the fire geode.”
She elbowed his knee, causing him to wince in pain and rub it. “Shut up, you dork,” she smiled, “I just had to use two elements at the same time! Do you not see that I’m exhausted?”
“And you did great.”
“Just ‘great’ doesn’t cut it, James.”
James rolled his eyes and laughed. “You were amazing. I’ll even do the dishes for you a week.”
“Thank you.”
James then put the thunder metal in his pocket. “Has Marco told us about the next element yet?”
“Yeah. He talked to me while you were taking your sweet time getting the thunder metal. The next one we have to get is the earth quartz.”
“Did he tell us where it is?”
“No, I told him to talk to us when we get back. It’s not like I was busy when he contacted me,” she smiled and laughed.
