Sara hated how the wind prickled against her purple jacket. She blinked her eyes, already giving up the battle of trying to force her hair to stay put with her hands. Dusk had settled and the Summer sky had melted into a deep blue dotted with red from a blinking plane passing overhead.
As Sara strode along the sidewalk, she attempted to ignore the scuffling of animals darting around yards too dark to see and trees too shadowy to make out. Her rational mind knew the critters were just going about their nightly business just as she was, but her slightly more irrational mind played with more frightening fantasies. I’ve been spending too much time listening to Helena. Sara’s younger sister Helena was always going on about random magical things she claimed had happened to her. I really did see a theatre made out of rain, Helena protested. Yeah, and I saw a talking fox, Sara retorted. The things Helena saw never made any sense to Sara and they definitely would never make any sense to their parents, which was probably why Helena only told these fantasies to Sara and their younger brother Henry. Sara turned left down the street. She was only a couple of blocks from her house now. During the day, living on the far edge of Buchtton near the woods was an exciting adventure. When she was younger, she, Helena, and Henry would spend hours scouring the forest for materials to build hideouts for themselves and shelters for bunnies. Now that Sara was seventeen, playing in the woods wasn’t as appealing, but she still enjoyed taking walks there during her free time and observing the wildlife. In the dark though, the woods weren’t as much fun. She averted her gaze from the trees’ haunting silhouettes. And that was when she heard it. The trickle of water flowing to her right. Sara frowned. There shouldn’t have been any streams close by and she was too far away from the ocean. She blinked and turned to see a cobbled path jutting out from the sidewalk and into a darkened space between two neighboring houses. She could just make out the hint of something reflecting light toward what she assumed to be the end of the pathway. The trickling sound ceased. I’ve walked home this way so many times, but I’ve never seen this pathway. Her mind scoured to find a reason for this development. Maybe I was always so lost in my thoughts and never noticed. Maybe this was built just today. Before her thoughts could rationalize any further, a strange sensation wrapped around Sara’s body. She was being pulled. No, not physically, although it definitely felt physical. It was something…else. She had to see what was at the end of the path. Taking a shaky breath, she stepped off the sidewalk, letting her sneakers tap against the stone tiles. It felt like her body was ringing. Like a bell had been rung inside of her and now her energy just tumbled out in waves, colliding with the night air, the whispering creatures, the murmuring trees. She was part of it all and she could breathe. Then she was there. In front of a glistening…fountain? It wasn’t a glamorous fountain that rose above its visitors and spouted water onto shimmering pennies. No, it was a gray water fountain, similar to the ones Sara saw at school. Still, it glowed, its silver metallic surface possessing no hint of prior usage. It was a fountain built just for her. She waited for her breath to steady and then she stepped forward in front of the fountain. Hands shaking, she grasped the little button on the side, its polished texture cool to the touch. A jet of water bubbled in front of her. The liquid slithered down the side of the basin and slipped down the drain. It was so quiet, she wondered if it was even real. She dipped a finger into the stream of water and gasped. It was cold and slimy, just as real water should be. Sara yanked her finger away from the fountain, this strange fountain that shouldn’t have existed, and dashed back down the pathway. Once her feet struck the sidewalk, she paused. She turned back around. The stone steps, the gleam of the fountain, they were all gone. She stood there for a few seconds. The wind frolicked with her hair and jacket. The critters shuffled and yipped among the bushes and trees. I must be tired from being out all day. I must have imagined it. But a spark had been startled awake inside her. Because now, Sara knew everything her sister had said was true.
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Celio felt the grass sting his palm and breathed in the salty air of the sea grumbling in the distance. He cherished the thrumming of the waves, the shuffling of the wind, the dancing of his own heart. He couldn’t see it at all, but he could still enjoy the environment around him. That’s what many people didn’t understand. Sometimes, you don’t need eyes to enjoy something beautiful.
“Celio, I found a nice shell!” His little brother Horatio called a few feet to his left. Horatio’s voice was light as if it could drift with the breeze. Celio pushed himself off from the sandy grass and, with the help of his cane, made his way toward the sound of his brother’s voice. The grains of sand shifted underneath the metal stick and embraced his sneakers. He loved the way his feet sunk into the soft substance as if he were being transported to another world. When he reached Horatio, he knelt down and held his hand out for his brother to place the shell in his palm. The damp, curvy figure tickled his skin and he could feel the water dripping off his brother’s slimy hand. “The water feels cold! I don’t get how you can stay so long in the waves, Horatio.” Horatio laughed. “It was worth it to get this shell.” Celio fingered the sea’s gift, stroking each curve and feeling its smooth underbelly. “It’s fascinating. You should bring it home to show Mom and Dad.” “I think I will!” Celio smiled at the excitement in Horatio’s voice. He loved how enthusiastic his brother was about all the little things in life. Celio wanted to be that way, too. That’s why he visited natural environments and forced himself to focus on his senses. He liked being himself, he liked belonging. Celio let his brother take back the shell and he buried his hand in the sand. The dry and wet particles mingled together and shivered against his fingers. He wondered if the tiny insects that burrowed in the sand were being disrupted by his movement. A flicker of guilt flashed through him. Humans could be so destructive sometimes. His brother was now mumbling a Portuguese song their mother often sang, although a bit out of tune. Celio gently recovered his hand from the soil and swayed to his brother’s music, letting himself hum along. “I want to go to Portugal someday,” Horatio said. “It would be cool to actually visit our grandparents in their own home instead of through phone calls once a year.” “Yeah.” Celio brushed off sand that had floated onto his t-shirt. “That would be nice.” He wasn’t sure that would happen anytime soon. While his family wasn’t struggling at the moment financially, it wasn’t like they had that much money to just throw around. Celio wished he could go on vacations like his friend Pavel did with his family. “Hey, Celio,” Horatio said. His voice was tentative in a way that made Celio want to pause his whole body just so he could focus on listening to Horatio. “Do you think we will ever be able to travel?” Celio didn’t know what to say. He wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t want to lie. He plastered a smile onto his face. “You know, we can travel right now. Close your eyes.” He heard the sounds of Horatio fidgeting on the sand. “They’re closed,” Horatio announced. “Good,” Celio said. “Now, listening to what’s around you and keeping your eyes shut, what do you see?” A moment passed. Celio focused on the wind whistling by him and the laughter of a family playing in the waves. Along the boardwalk behind him, he could hear the thumps of footsteps and the scratching of bicycle wheels along wood. “I hear people having fun and walking around,” Horatio said slowly. “What else?” “The ocean, but Celio, this is nice and all, but it isn’t the same.” Celio sighed and ran his fingers through the sand, letting the dry particles slide off his skin. He could heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice, the sadness of feeling stuck. Celio had been so focused on observing his environment, he forgot to pay attention to his brother. “You’re right. To be honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to travel anytime soon.” “It stinks.” “It does.” Horatio groaned. “Vacations are probably overrated anyway. Maybe we’re the lucky ones since we get to stay here and really appreciate this place.” Celio grinned. He listened to the sound of his brother rubbing his hand along his seashell. “Yeah, that may be true.” There is beauty in these moments, Isabelle, my father once told me as we stood in the sand. The grainy particles dug into our feet and the summer sun seared our foreheads as we watched it float down into the waves. This is a gift from God, I had thought. My mind whirled with what my second grade CCD teacher told me last Spring. But now, almost nine years later, I stand on the icy boardwalk and stare at the snow-encrusted beach with only heaviness lingering in my brain.
Is tomorrow really Christmas? A tiny flake lands on my gloved fingertips clutching the boardwalk’s railings. Shivering, I turn to the left and blink water droplets out of my eyes. The wind flattens my dark blue mask against my cheek and I take a shaky breath that fills the slim gap between my mouth and the cotton with warm air. I glare up at the pink-tinged sky. Everything had seemed so accessible back then. I used to think of the atmosphere as where God lay resting among the clouds and stars. As if all I needed to do to reach heaven was to stand on my tiptoes and grasp onto a shooting star with my bare six-year-old hands. At sixteen, that seems impossible. When was the last time I even went to a service? To a mass? We had left the Catholic church back when I was in fifth grade and hadn’t looked back since. Our new church had been much more welcoming and I had loved the people I had met there. It’s just that…it’s getting so much harder to believe. I love sunsets. The clouds are splotches of paint that splatter across the canvas of the sky. A memory trickles into my senses. My best friend Avani and I had been walking home from school last Fall. I had stayed late helping organize a food drive while Avani had play practice. By the time we had left the high school, the sky was almost completely dark. Only the barest sliver of purple lined the horizon. I’ve always thought of sunsets as more organized, I had said in reply to Avani. The colors are layered and the sun always sinks down. There’s an order to it all. Avani had shaken her head. That’s where you’re wrong, dear friend. I had spent the rest of the night thinking about Avani’s words. Even ignoring the aesthetics of sunsets, the scientific reasons for the phenomenon still expressed a sequence of events, not a random splashing of paint. But now, I realize, maybe there is truth to my friend’s claim. There is beauty in these moments, my father had said. A gift, I had thought. There is, meaning it exists. Beauty just exists. That gift exists. No structure required. I peer up at the colorful sky. With a smile, I let go of the railing. Life is chaos. That is one thing I am sure of as I stand outside in the sun. My bare feet dig into the moist soil and the Spring wind crackles against my hair. The sky’s dying light warms my cheeks and I breathe in its crispness, letting it crash against my lungs and tumble down my diaphram.
Life is chaos. Shouting bellows inside the house behind me. A tangle of words tremble in Venezuelan Spanish. My little brother has once again disappointed my mother. Life is chaos. I hear the weeping downstairs of the monster my sister has adopted in secret. The poor thing is frightened by a world that fears beings like him. Life is chaos because I can’t control it. I, Loli, can’t control the sun, the dirt, the wind that surrounds me. I can’t control the yelling inside my home or the Minotaur my sister Aziza has embraced. I can’t even control my own mind and the thoughts that entwine with my brain, convincing me I’m wrong, that I’m not good enough, that I’m...not...me. And that’s something I will have to endure. I peer at the clouds gliding across the sky. They’re so fluffy and orange now. Who could imagine they will eventually grow heavy with the sorrows of the world and pound against my roof? Who could envision the little sprouts underneath my feet sucking in that pain through their roots and growing taller will only be mowed down later on? Things can change so quickly. I blink and water shrouds my gaze. I turn back toward my home with the bellows, the monster, the disorder. Yes, life is chaos and I have to endure it, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do. I see fish flying in the night. As I tiptoe out from under my covers and into the cool evening air, I can see starry fish dancing in the sky outside my window. The way the lights flicker emboldens me and soon I'm not fifteen-year-old Isabelle Huff stuck at home with a mom who doesn't understand and two little sisters who incessantly argue. No, I am an explorer in a dazzling spacesuit, ready to leap from star to star. I can stare up at space and float. Although I can feel my eyelids sink and my mouth yawn, I am free. Inside my house, only little taps resound from the fridge and the radiator. No yelling can be heard. No disappointments, mess-ups, conflicts. In the sky, there are only the fish. They glow purple and bronze and blue. Their sleek bodies twirl among the stars. The moon guides them with its luminescence and Earth's green hills roll like distant oceans underneath them. As I lean against my window and my slow breath fogs the glass, I am suddenly struck by how distant these magnificent creatures are from my house and me. Do they even know that Buchtton, the small town I inhabit, exists? For them, none of us really matter. My struggles with my mother are nothing to them. Sibling squabbles slip by their attention. They journey the whole universe to the point that little things that alarm me are pointless to them. My heart yanks at my chest and loneliness sinks in. Maybe they don't care, I think to myself. I sigh. The fish look so beautiful among the twinkling stars. Their scales appear sturdy and thick. Their eyes, large as houses, radiate with warmth and sadness. They've seen too much of the world, I realize. Maybe the point is that I care about them. With that, I grin and continue gazing at fish flying in the night. Thank you for reading! If you like my story, please don't be afraid to give it a share. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts. Question: If you saw giant fish flying in the night, what would you think?
Imagine this: you are on the school lawn and everything is paused around you-- the cars on the road, the people on the sidewalk, and even the leaves on the trees. Not a horn is honked, a whisper uttered, or a branch shifted. The only two things moving are me and an amber cat and I am chasing said amber cat across the grounds. This is what will happen in, say, ten minutes after my math class. Anyways, my day had been going well. I had totally led my team to victory in my history class' Vietnam War debate. I had managed to get to twenty-five push-ups in my 9th grade PE class. I even won a lollipop in my Spanish class for using proper grammar. My life had only started to get weird as I was leaving my math class, my last lesson of the day, and I observed an orange glow coming from my locker. My eyebrows raised, I paused in the middle of the hallway. "Evelyn!" a classmate hissed behind me as they nearly crashed into my backpack. Other students glared at me as they wove around me. "Sorry," I muttered and stalked over to my locker. The orange light was still there, but no one seemed to notice it except me. All the other teenagers continued lumbering down the hallway talking to their friends or staring at their phones. No one even glanced in my direction. I grasped the cool lock in my hand and slowly attempted to twist in my combination. It had been a while since I last used my locker. Finally, after a few minutes of struggle, the lock slid open. My heart soaring and my fingers thrumming, I opened the door. There on the metal floor of my locker sat a small orange orb. Its glow entranced me and I reached out to hold the object. The orb blossomed with a warmth that tickled my palm and just for a moment, I squatted on the tiles clutching this unnatural, but beautiful item. Throughout the school day, I had been so busy trying to impress my friends and teachers that this tiny chance to simply relax by myself was rejuvenating. I had no idea what the orb was or what it could do, but only that it wanted to belong to me. Then I heard screaming. The few students left in the math hallway were shouting and pointing at an amber shape hurtling in my path. I tried to stand up quickly, but my heavy backpack slowed me down. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the amber creature had snatched my orange orb from my hand and had dashed off toward the staircase at the end of the hall. Without pausing to think, I scrambled to my feet and pursued the thief. I could see the creature, a cat, I realized, racing down the stairs. I followed after it, skipping two steps at a time. I could feel my veins pulsing and my hands tightening into fists. That cat had no right to take my orb. I took a corner on the stairs. The robber with the orb still gripped in its mouth stayed in my view. In front of me, classmates and teachers on the staircase screeched and leaped out of my way. I didn't care what they thought of me. My long black hair swung in my face and my backpack thumped against my body. I jerked to the right and followed the burglar across the bustling main lobby. I shoved past fellow students who were already jumping and yelling because of the cat. The doors were propped open with wooden blocks, making the creature's escape easy. The cat paused on the front steps and I scampered over to try to yank the orb from its mouth. Before my fingers could make contact with my possession, the cat bit down hard on the orb and with a pop, the object burst into a dozen rays of light. I squeezed my eyes shut. I expected to hear more hollering from my classmates, but instead, I heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. I couldn't even feel any late Spring wind tangling around my arms. Cautiously, I opened my eyes to see the cat standing innocently in front of me and peering at me with deep brown eyes. The orb was nowhere to be seen. "You stupid cat!" I yowled. The cat bounded down the rest of the steps and toward the lawn of the school. Disregarding all the silent people standing around me, I sprinted after the devil. I'm going to get that cat, I thought to myself. It's going to regret destroying my orb. Speed dug its way into my legs and my strides lengthened. I could almost reach out to grab the animal. A stone wobbled underneath my sneaker and I collapsed onto the grass. Silt burrowed into my mouth and pain charged through my knees. Tears stung my eyes and through my watery gaze, I could see the amber shape of the cat moving farther and farther into the distance. Panting, I wiped away my tears. Everything was so still around me. There was no wind. The cars on the road did not stir. The people on the sidewalk and on the steps of the school were sedentary. The trees on the lawn were serene. Then noises trickled into my ears and the cars, people, and leaves began to move again. Meanwhile, I lay on the grass shivering. Imagine this: the world had given a girl the gift of pausing and she ruined it over a cat. Thank you for reading! If you like my story, please don't be afraid to give it a share. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts. Question: When was a time you forgot to be mindful?
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AuthorI'm Darcy Ridge, creating stories that all revolve around family and identity in a myriad of ways. In the past, I have shared multiple stories and published a novella online. You can find me on Wattpad and many other social media websites. They/them [Image Description: black background with the words "Social Justice and Mental Health Resources" in white in the center /end ID]
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