Kylie Laude
32,512 Feet
8:03 A.M.
32,512 feet into the air and we’re flying.
Far, far away from our little apartment in the city. Far, far away from the struggles of trying to finish high school and trying to raise my younger sister, Violet. Sometimes, I just wish it was over; all of it.
The land rolls far away from my field of vision, like it stretches on forever. The trees are changing colors, slowly transforming from green, to red and orange, then to brown. From this high, it looks like a mitch-matched quilt for a family of giants. I picture myself among the quilt of trees, finally sleeping peacefully.
8:25 A.M
Violet kicks the vacant seat in front of her. She rolls a potato chip bag between her palms, making as much noise as humanly possible.
“Are we there yet, Annabelle?" Violet asks, staring up at me with her large, pleading eyes. “When will we get to see Grandma and Grandpa?”
"Not yet." I respond. I lean back in the seat and close my eyes. "Soon."
"How far is 'soon'?” She grumbles under her breath, aiming another kick at the seat.
9:06 A.M
"Did you hear that?" My sister digs her fingernails into the skin on my forearm and pulls two sharp tugs.
"Hear what?" I sit up groggily, blinking sleep and exhaustion out of my eyes.
There's a loud popping noise followed by a series of creaks. I sit up straighter and glance around the cramped plane. Everyone seems to have the same idea I have : what’s going on?
Violet’s wide eyes start to tear up. There’s panic in her fragile voice. “Anna…”
"Shhh," I whisper, running a shaky hand over her head. My thoughts buzz around my skull like a swarm of angry wasps. "It’ll be okay."
9:12 A.M
"Ladies and gentlemen," the flight attendants voice crackles over the speakers. It seems as if everyone on the plane perks up to hear her explanation. "I'm going to ask everyone to please buckle their seat-"
Another series of metal groans cut the flight attendant off. The plane lurches to the right, throwing everyone to the side. My shoulder knocks against the glass.
"Anna," Violet’s voice cracks. She clutches my hand with both of her sweaty ones. "What's going on?"
I search my head for an answer she’ll be able to comprehend. Any answer that’s less terrifying than the one that seems to keep emerging.
9:19 A.M
The plane lurches for the second time, throwing us all to the right. Violet lets out the first shriek. She buries her head behind my arm, whispering to herself. There's another loud popping sounding, piercing my eardrums. She lets out a louder scream.
"I love you, Vi,” My voice breaks, revealing my terror. But over her screams and the popping, I can't tell if I said it out loud, or if she even heard me. I hope she did.
9:20 A.M
The plane lurches again, but more forcefully. The side of my head knocks into the glass window, intensifying my ringing ears. There's a bang louder than anything I’ve ever heard. Louder than the rock concert I went to with my friends last summer. Louder than the thunder that always seemed to shake our building down. Every passenger screams simultaneously. I catch a glimpse of the woman's face in the seat in front of me as she turns around. Her eyes are wide with fear, like she's witnessed every horror in the world. Her eyes must have mirrored mine. Before she even opens her mouth and utters a single word, I know. I feel it deep in the insides of my stomach, like I knew all along.
"We're going down."
9:21 A.M
Somewhere in Manchester-Boston Regional Airport, my grandparents stand side by side with excited smiles plastered on their faces. My grandfather holds a sheet of paper that says “My beautiful granddaughters: Violet and Annabelle.” My grandmother’s hands shake with anticipation. After four years of not seeing us, they were more than excited.
Little do they know that somewhere between Virginia and New Hampshire, something went wrong. Little do they know the plane they’re waiting patiently for will never arrive.
9:21 A.M
32,512 feet into the air and we’re falling.
B-Sides and Rarities
We spent our evenings
belly-up among the lily pads,
lips plump with wildflower
nectar, breathing
in Her warm hues.
Your back was spotted
golden with sunflower seeds
and soaked in honeycomb,
a reminder of
drinking sap from
sugar maple trunks.
The dirt paths we walked down
were covered in strawberry
vines and wild daisies.
Ferns caressed your mud-speckled ankles,
begging you to stay, and the
golden wheat field waved goodbye.
I called for you in the gasp of winter,
and wept to the moon as
my hands searched for slanted shoulders.
Your departure created hallows
in my chest that have yet
to be filled.
One day
I hope to relearn
the calloused lines of your palms
and the smell of gardenia
woven into the roots of your hair.
A Fool's Melody
We used to be written in the
space between Orion and Capricornus.
I thought our futures were hammered into stone,
you thought it was merely molded with clay.
Your phantom limb
against my hip still whispers at
night through beech fingers.
You sang to me in ancient tongues,
coating your mouth with velvet. I begged for
translation—you didn’t hear me over the
heart in your throat.
Meet me under the line of pines
where our names are carved into the trunks,
and where our footprints are hidden
under amber sap and fig leaves.
I’ll tell you stories of bathing
in creek shallows as children
and eating blood oranges
pregnant with juice.
The Space Between Your Eyes
We met in the gasp of winter—
I, a nomad. You, a vagabond—
two wandering souls colliding
at the wrong time. But how could
I resist that smile?
Your eyes glistened with
untold stories and azalea. I
didn’t recognize your language, yet
ate easily from your hands. I should’ve known
not to judge a book by its cover.
We lived under the pale
skin of earth, painting on the walls with
crushed pomegranate seeds. You watched
from the corner, blowing out smoke bubbles
for me to pop.
How many times have you
stepped on the small of my back and
spit poison into my throat?
A phoenix rises from your ashes; a
songbird is reborn from my scream.
Dancing with Milkweed
Set me down on the
smooth banks of the river
beside the rows of cattails.
I’ll drink milk from dandelion stems
and catch sunlight,
allowing you to sip from
my cupped hands.
Your fingers align themselves
like planets against my spine,
while symphonies roll off your tongue,
waltzing through my mind for hours.
My half-lidded eyes tremble restlessly
with the chanting of your heart.
You long for the ease
of sleep, harboring your
weary shoulders into
slanted lines. I’ll
bury myself in your dream-sand -
its sweet fragrance of lilacs
and baby’s breath will lull me to sleep.
