inside out

another prompt, a prose poem

photograph of my mother’s and my shadows, los angeles, 1999

the short story i’ve been working on is nearly ready for publication (or at least, the attempt at such). in the meantime, here’s another short piece generated by prompts from my writing class.

i don’t find this to be necessarily the most interesting or intricate thing i’ve ever written, but i do like the imagery it evokes. when i received the first prompt, i immediately thought of myself- a different iteration, my inner child; my soul, pure and untarnished. there are so many parts of me that sometimes one tries to stop the other, like the third version in this piece; manic, magnetic, deadly. she’s so bewitching that sometimes she’s still able to seduce me; but though she runs after me, calling for one last dance, day by day i’ve been outpacing her; though as is life, on occassion i stumble, slow down. but the distance between us has never been greater. sometimes i’m even able to wave to her from afar, like an old friend. enjoy ~

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Compose a letter or other type of direct address piece to someone you or your character can’t reach.

Then, compose a scene in which your character is in the same room as the person they couldn’t reach.

Calling into the void–are you there?

My voice echoes back at me, thrown against the wall. Fists up, I’m ready to fight; for you, but you don’t call back. I’m standing at the edge of a precipice and I think I see a glint of silver hair; but I blink, you’re not there. My own golden head darkens in despair.

We were sisters, long ago; your soft hand in mind, promising to never let go. Traverse uneven terrain, travel the world; anything, as long as we were together. One heart, one soul.

But seemingly out of nowhere you slipped away. Quietly, like a saint; I held your locket to my chest, but it was broken, blown open by a dark night’s breeze. When I awoke the next morning, your picture was gone, my clavicle bare. And yet, I didn’t notice; not at first.

I thought we were entwined, forever. I remember your first laugh; I bottled it up in a glass jar, stored it for safekeeping. Now I can’t seem to find it amongst the teeming shelves, teetering so haphazardly; one false push and it all comes crumbling down, every manifested memory. My mind blank, like you never existed in the first place. During my darkest times, it’s not a bad thought.

But something always pulls me back to you, even if I threaten to walk away (but you know I’ll always stay). That laugh; I rack the shelves, try to find it. Scale the wall systematically, one by one; toss out fate, temptation, joy, rage. I feel you close, think I’ve almost got you; but then a glass jar slips through my grasp to the ground, though strangely, it doesn’t make a sound. Yet something rises from the ashes; not a phoenix, but a fox.

Before that something crystallizes clear, I see you

(or at least I think I do). I call your name, waving. Joyous. Your back is to me, across the room, but I would recognize that silver swath anywhere. Glinting like frost.

I call your name, again. You don’t turn. I take a step forward; everything goes dark.

I’m falling. Down, down, to depths I never thought I’d go. I land like a lump on sodden ground.

But then, like a beacon: A halo of silver light, illuminating the dark. My heart swells; you fell with me.

I make a move toward you but something blocks my path, a crystalline sheen between us, clinging to my coat. It’s cold, unbelievably cold; I breathe and it burns the air.

I look down; it’s a dagger to the chest. I pull it out, though it hurts my heart. And still, you flicker in and out of my periphery, a soul in limbo, seeking salvation.

“Well?”

It’s her, she is crystallized clear. Breath biting. I should’ve known, should’ve known she’d try to take you, try to make you her own. The inevitability of deceit.

She breathes down my neck, fingers playing in my hair. “Stay here,” she sighs, “stay here.” Cocooned into a false sense of safety. Images float around me, signs and symbols of times past; messy hair, bruised legs, bare feet. It’s comfortable here, not giving a fuck. It almost makes me forget you.

I want to kick off my shoes and dance naked til the sun comes up. She takes me in her arms, our own sort of partner dance. She dips, I relax; and just as I’m about to close my eyes into syrupy slumber, I catch a flash. Of silver.

Of you.

She leans down for a kiss; I spit the poison out my lips.

She pouts. “You’re no fun.” Pawing at me.

But no, we’re in the same room; you’re flashing, flaring out, asking for my hand. And the entire time I thought it was me chasing you.

You want me, too?

With that I break free; the barrier between us no more, she falls to the floor; I step through her, easily.

There you are. Smiling. Waiting. Welcoming me home (you always knew I would come).

I’m fevered by your faith; gathering you in my arms, I feel us beat in tandem. One heart, one soul. My sister, myself. And this is what it really means to be safe.

You shimmy into the crawlspace of my heart; a perfect fit. A fire that had been cold for so long, now ignited; I almost forgot the feeling of flame against skin.

It feels nice, to be alive.