ayeshazahyd

elves and such

In Uncategorized on August 9, 2010 at 4:14 am

There was a hole in the ground and we climbed in eagerly, hoping for a better world. We heard shouts and noises and the goings-on of a party. We were blinded by a white light and died. We came back to life and resumed our dinner, always singing that one song in our heads, because it just would not go away. I have lost count how many times I asked myself to give it all up but I just wouldn’t. The exhilaration of the ride, the thrill of the journey kept coming back to me and I always surrendered. Gave up and went to sleep.

The music would stop and she would stop dancing, look at the family around her and die. The white light never left us alone. It kept coming in short bursts, small enough to move small animals. I hate it when I am writing and someone disturbs me. The animals shrieked and cried, but there was nothing to be done.

Whatever. The damage had been done. There was no way out and everyone knew it. How long before the elders would realize, no one could say. Maybe one day, maybe seven.

There was a certain je-ne-se-quoi about the painting. We all knew it was the lady of the river, but no one knew her name. And so we had just travelled seventy-eight miles to Harlingen, TX to find out that the world was just another oyster for the pearl that never existed. Maybe in another world, there would be a separate world and in that world, another world. Eventually things get smaller and smaller and all the way, they get known to each other like you would not believe. I try not to get personal but things happen and when they happen, animals die. We all die. It’s not scary, it’s a fact of life, like birth. Only, we’re going back to where we came from and that place is bound t be better. How can it not be, when we are rubbed in mud every day over here?

I try to forget and I can’t.

There are too many things that remind me of her, the girl in black, a forbidden inspiration. I try not to get watched and I try not to break down but the world keeps spinning and we keep living. In the end, it’s all the same. The world could not have been born at a better time. Sometimes I make new friends without being their friends and when they tell me to go away, I can’t help but hold on to something that doesn’t exist. There is light, and then there is darkness.

Wouldn’t you agree with me that darkness is a better way to resolve everything? They sky is wide, and the world is big.

Help me, mother, help me, father, help me, sister and help me, brother. When I fight, when I cry, there is nothing to be said but sorrow in a white dress comes and speaks all the same. She tries to let you know what there is to be said. I will keep gluing myself to the television and watch old sitcoms about rabbits and something else but really, who gives a damn about those old ones, anyway? I wouldn’t pay a shilling for it. And Americans don’t take shillings themselves.

When the night goes on, I find myself running out of words. The thing is, they never run out. It’s n illusion, you expect them to just stop.

They don’t. They will jump out at you from behind and refuse to play around, they are there and they exist and that is all you need to know. It’s not important to find out what the hell you really want and I’m telling you, the worst skills ever are those of guitar-playing. Maybe you can find a better way to live with them. I can’t. The pressure is too much and one of these days the cooking machine will burst open and the meat will fall out, red and raw and wet. Wet with water and salted tears of the kitchen elves who have tried so hard to gain your acceptance of their existence but they, as always, are swept off their feet and land on their bottoms, crying, sobbing. They are not human, you scream but your voice is lost in the sound of the music. I help an elf to its feet, and it tries to tell me to please go away, I can handle myself perfectly fine, thank you very much.

Fine, I say. I look away with regret in my eyes. Regret for ever hoping that someone might ever need my help.

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