Category: Writings


15 min writing

Day one of my effort to write everyday, for at least 15 minutes:

Talked with my mom last night.  I’m so tired of seeing her struggle financially.  When one struggles their whole life with something, how can they turn it around?  Is it really in their power?  We need help from others – opportunities & support.  Where would I be if I didn’t have a safe home growing up?  What kind of mental state would I be in without emotionally grounded and financially stable parents?  Makes you sympathetic to homeless people; you don’t know someone’s story.

I feel so angry because I don’t know what I can do to help my mom, to help myself.  My entire family has struggled with money our whole lives.  It’s difficult sometimes to imagine us wealthy, because I’ve never experienced such an emotion or state of being.  It just seems so hard to believe.  I guess one could compare it to a fat person becoming skinny.  But, I immediately object – there is a basic understanding of how to lose weight – eat healthy and exercise.  I know there are gimmicks out there trying to sucker people out of their money through fad diets and fad weight machines, but for the most part, most people know that in order to lose weight, they just have to put in the work of eating right and exercising regularly.  Not so with money.  It seems there is an orgy of misleading information out there, trying even harder to sucker people out of their money.  Stay-at-home mom schemes, owning your own businesses schemes, blah blah blah.  It’s hard to know which one to trust, and who to trust.

Am I complaining?  A bit.  But I’m also a highly analytical person, so I feel I’m also searching for reasons how I got where i am, in order to better understand how to get myself out of it.  Is that so wrong?

I admit, I feel complaining is an old habit, as I used to do it a lot when I was younger. Seeing everyone around me in a better financial situation didn’t help matters.  “It’s all their fault!  My environment, my peers, my (lack of) mentors!”, I feel like screaming.  Point that finger.

What actions to take?  How to enjoy the journey at the same time?  How can one enjoy being poor?  I know they say you don’t have to have money in order to be happy.  But whoever says that apparently hasn’t had to live without money for a prolonged period.  Am I making excuses again?  Yes, I’m angry.  I’m angry that some people have to struggle financially, health-wise, etc, while others do not.  It’s not fair.  It’s not just.  “So what?”, a wise person might say.  “Go out there and be the change you want to see in the world”.  I’m trying.  I really am.  But the problem is, I haven’t seen or felt progress, and that can be one of the most debilitating feelings I’ve ever known.

What actions to take.  I want someone to tell me, to guide me.  I’m so tired of running into walls.  Not because I’m afraid of failure – I got over that recently – but because it seems like with money, every time you “fail”, you’re in a worse off situation than before, and life really does get more difficult due to lack of money.  How does one keep positive in such instances?  It’s funny how I often feel like my family and I are alone in our struggles, when I know there are tons of others in far worse situations than us.  But still, that hasn’t helped ease my pain for a while now…

Action.  What actions can downtrodden people take?  Where do we turn for support?  For a safe, stable haven?

Even if I am complaining, I debate whether I should “get it all out”, or just stop doing it.  I know that before, complaining wasn’t helping me progress closer to my goals, but now, I feel I’m just analyzing the reasons why I’m not moving fast enough or hardly at all, towards my goals.

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Survey – Odds & Ends

Found this survey on the blog, “BetweenFearAndLove“.  I love filling out surveys.  I guess I love probing my mind and also seeing the responses of others.  Plus, this blog post made me realize that these can act as really fun digital time capsules.  So here we go:

June 27, 2012, 5:13 PM PST

1. What time did you get up this morning? 9:00AM – Bleh. I try to get up between 6-7, so I can get more shit done.

2.Diamonds or pearls? i prefer diamonds, as they are far more difficult to destroy.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? The Avengers – amazing

4. What is your favourite TV show? Currently it’s Parks & Rec, but I also love Off Their Rockers, Breaking Bad, & Dexter

5. What did you have for breakfast? 1 slice wheat toast, provologne cheese, salami, spinach, pesto, cucumber

6. What is your middle name? Christopher – Saint of Travel

7. What is your favourite cuisine?  Japanese

8. What is your favourite brand of chips?  Tim’s Cascade

9. What is your favourite CD at the moment?  Adele’s “21”

10. What kind of car do you drive?  Public transit.  Hope to have hybrid car soon!

11. Favourite sandwich? Anything with bacon, salami, and avocado.

12. Favourite item of clothing? Grey hoodie with track lines down the arms

13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? It changes, but right now, Japan with my younger sister.

14. What is your greatest accomplishment in the last month?  Having some job interviews lined up at places I actually want to work

15. Favourite brand of clothing?  I suppose American Eagle, but lately I have been disappointed in their collections.

16. Where would you retire to? anywhere close to the ocean, my family, and temperate weather

17. Favourite time of the day? night

18. What was your most memorable birthday?  Wow, I actually am a little stumped on this one.  This last one (28) was pretty memorable, because Dustin threw me a wonderful surprise party.

19. Where were you born? Manhattan, NY

20. Favourite sport to watch?  I don’t watch sports.  If I have to pick, maybe gymnastics or wushu

21. Who is your support network/group?  My mom, younger sister, younger brother, Dustin, Shann.

22. What have you realized recently?  In order to work through a limiting belief (in my case, money), I need to absolve my past experiences that gave contributed to it.

23. What is a new habit you have picked up?  Chanting in the mornings (thanks to Ray) and evenings

24. Coffee or tea?  Hmmm, so many different types of tea – green, black, herbal.  I gotta go with tea.

25. What do you want to be doing a year from now?  Living with Dustin in a place we love, loving what I do.

26. The biggest challenge of the past year?  Jumping from job to unemployment to job to unemployment.  Arguably one of the worst periods of my life.

27.  Most prized possession? My aging MacBook.  I’m excited to get a new MacBook Pro!

28. Current goal?  To have a job(s) where I am free, creative, wealthy, & inspiring.  To have a 6-pack, so I can feel accomplished and confident.

Feel free to share or post your responses here.  Also, if you know of any other fun surveys, please let me know!

 

Desire to be impactful

While watching movie trailers yesterday, I found one in particular (“The Perks of Being a Wallflower”) that made me realize I could finally put into words a longstanding desire of mine:

To be captured forever in a moment of ecstasy, exhilaration, passion, beauty, liberation, rage, or any type of power.  

This deep desire is probably behind my reason for wanting to be a model.  You can look at a photo and be affected by it so much in an incredibly short amount of time.  From just one second’s glance.  That’s powerful.  I love films and music videos for being able to portray a powerful human emotion in a beautiful way as well, but photography seems to be the fastest way of invoking a feeling in the viewer.

This might sounds like a childish wish, but I want to live forever.  But, I know that’s currently not possible .  So the next best thing is to create something or be a part of something that does last forever.  Art always come to my mind – photography, film, music.

I want people to remember me.  My face.  My body.  My legacy.  A legacy of what?  I’m not really sure yet; a positive legacy, for sure.  I don’t want to be considered vane, but I just want to be remembered.  A stark photograph, a powerful music video (with hopefully equally impressive music), a cult film…. I want to be immortalized in a breathtakingly beautiful form.

Lipstick Message

From WritersDigest.com, in the Weekly Writing Prompts section:

Lipstick Message

You get a message, it is obviously for you, but it is scrawled in lipstick on a mirror in a public restroom. It’s unexpected, but now you know exactly where the killer is hiding. It’s time to find him and, hopefully, your friend (and hopefully your friend is still alive). Write this scene.

“BODIES: The Exhibition, at the Convention Ctr. Come alone.”

The message stared back at me from the grimy mirror in the public restroom.

Fuck.  BODIES?  The human body exhibition???  The recently famous exhibition had been in Seattle for a month now and everyone had been raving about it.  The thought of real human bodies frozen in various poses didn’t really grab my attention.  I didn’t get why people were excited to see such a spectacle.  In fact, the thing kind of freaked me out, and by “kind of”, I mean A LOT.

And now, I was being forced to go there, at 1:00 AM and find this demented killer, along with my friend he kidnapped…killed…dismembered…god, who knows what?

I focused, trying to keep my heart beat steady and my mind clear.  But it felt like trying to fight the tides; this overwhelming sense of panic and rabid imagination constantly threatened to overtake all my senses and send me into a nervous breakdown.  I just go home.  I wished this had never happened.  I knew i was wasting time complaining about the way things worked out, that I should be sprinting to the Convention Center to rescue my friend (or his body).  But, I was frozen.  I couldn’t call the police.  I couldn’t tell anyone.

“Well”, a voice piped up in my head, “he just said to come alone; he never said anything about not telling anyone.”  Ugghhh, but that could mean he didn’t want me to tell anyone. What should I do??  I’m not hero!  I know I play them all time in video games, but this is different.  There’s no retry, no starting over from a save point.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, deep into my lungs.  It jolted me to life a bit.  I exhaled forcefully.  Turning on the spot, I began walking briskly towards the Convention Center.  About five blocks from the public restroom, the Convention Center loomed in the darkness of night.  Picking up my pace, my mind raced through my options – weapon; defense; support; back up plan; Ray; was he still alive?; Andrew; that bastard; why was he doing this???  How did I caught up in this shit???

I shook my head in an attempt to clear these “Why oh me?” thoughts and focus on the present.  As I approached the entrance to the Convention Center, my body instinctively swung my satchel around my body, to where I zipped open the two largest compartments.  What could I use?  Gum.  Band-aides.  Journal.  Pens.  Keys.  Damn it!  I needed some sort of weapon.

I grabbed the sturdiest pen and griped in firmly in my right hand.  If Jason Bourne could use a pen to mame someone, I could do the same.

I pushed open the entrance door and ran up the stairs to the main exhibition room.  As I neared the top of the stairs, a sea of naked human bodies greeted me.  Damn.  Scary.

My body froze as I listened for any sound of movement.  Nothing.

I stood there, frozen.  Another deep breath.  I forced myself to take a step forward.  Then another.  Lidless eyes peered at different angles.  Their muscles almost seemed to glisten in the faint light from the above lights.  Walking.  I kept walking down the center aisle.  The giant room seemed to be set up in a grid of 30 separate blocks or stands.  I moved down the center aisle and looked around as I walked.  The key in my right hand was hot from my body heat by now.  My eyes fell upon a lone exhibit body lying face down on the floor about ten feet in front of me.

Could this be a trick?  As I walked up to the shoulders of the body, I kicked it over and observed the eyes staring upwards.  So creepy… The lights suddenly went out.  Panicked, I thought about putting some sort of barrier behind me.  I ran to the right, holding my hands out as I ran blindly.  Feeling the wall, I quickly put my back to it and tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness.

I heard footsteps right around the area where I was standing with the lone body.  The footsteps started getting louder as they came towards me.  A flashlight beam appeared five feet in front of me, focused on the floor.  Knowing that psycho would soon be pointing the flashlight up towards me in a second, I silently dashed to my left and crouched behind an exhibit.  The beam of light grew larger as the killer walked towards where I was just standing, until he was right in front of me, staring at the wall.  Changing my grip on the key, I got into position to lunge at him.  I lunged at him, just as he turned to face the opposite direction.

After a professional writer recommended I use the site, WritersDigest.com, I found one section to be particularly helpful – the Weekly Writing Prompts section.

So in an effort to maintain and strengthen my writing muscle, I will start creating content based off of these writing prompts.  I’m looking forward to seeing my imagination and writing style diversify and expand to colorful, gargantuan proportions!

When Your Favorite Characters Don’t Get Along

Your parents have thrown you a surprise birthday dinner and have invited your two favorite fictional characters (can be literary, television, movie, etc.). There’s only one problem: Turns out, the characters don’t get along and, after some mild bickering, they get into a big fight following one particular insult. Write this scene.

Characters:

Edward Cullen (Twilight series)

Jacob Black (Twilight series)

I looked out amongst my party guests – people were putting Buggles on their fingers and pretending to be witches, random chatter & laughter amongst small groups of people, and the high afternoon sun, completing this sunny picture.

“Thanks for throwing this little shindig”, said Jacob Black, as he stood before me shirtless and radiating heat.

“Thanks for coming”, I responded.  I had gotten semi-used to seeing Jacob wearing just his shorts, as I knew he had to turn into a huge wolf at random times.  So inconvenient, I thought.

“Yeah, too bad you have that human lighthouse blinding everyone”, Jacob muttered as he turned to look at Edward Cullen.  Since the sun was out, it was to be expected that Edward’s vampire skin would be sparkling like a thousand diamonds.  Pretty, the first time you see it, but distracting and blinding during the spring and summer.

Having the ability to read people’s minds, Edward went over and picked up his jacket from a chair and put it on with a stylish flair.  If werewolves were warm and chummy, vampires were cold and detached.  I knew the two species, races, tribes (whatever) didn’t mesh well, but I didn’t want to exclude anyone from my party as well.  Let them deal with it, I thought.

“Look at him.  Thinks he’s so cool reading our minds and acting all… cool” sneered Jacob as his arm muscles twitched.

“He’s just being polite.  I’m sure even he forgets about the skin sparkling thing” I reasoned.

“Yeah, look at him all smug….”.  Jacob wasn’t listening.  This was a bad turn.

I thought of directing Jacob to another part of the yard, but I figured that was just prolonging the inevitable.  So I saw an opportunity to amend things between the two, and spend some time getting to know each other and realize that they’re both human.  Well, you know what I mean.

“Come on.  You guys need to get oer this shit.  Just come over with me and chill”, I offered.

Jacob knew the tension between him and Edward was off-putting to us, his friends.  So he grudgingly followed me over to Edward, heavy breathing and all.

“Thanks for covering up your blinding radiance”, Jacob said to Edward.  A compliment and a jab.  God, Jacob.

“Sorry about that.  Sometimes I forget that we get sun here in the pacific northwest”, Edward responded.  Gentlemanly, as always.    Sometimes I wondered if Edward didn’t spend all night taking out his frustration towards Jacob on a mountain side.  He has to do something during those sleepless nights.

“See any food here that doesn’t suite your fancy?” Jacob asked Edward with a mixture of disgust and jeer.

“I already hunted today; didn’t want to come tempted”, said Edward.

“You and your blood-sucking buddies don’t ever happen to hunt wolves, do ya?” asked Jacob, as he puffed up his chest slightly.

“No.  We prefer bears and mountain lions – you know, things that can put up a fight?”, responded Edward with the slightest hint of a grin.

Sensing the oncoming retaliation (verbal or physical), I stepped between the two, facing Jacob with my hands between the two.  But Jacob was gone; only Edward’s back was facing me.  As I registered this oddity, I felt a swoosh go past one side of me.  Edward had read Jacob’s mind and saw Jacob’s attack, so he beat him to it and punched him clear across the 50-foot yard.  Luckily, no one had been in the way.

I let out a big sigh, grabbed my Shirley Temple, and walked heavily back inside my house to fetch a pen and piece of paper.  This wasn’t the first time this happened at my house (can you imagine the state of the rest of the town?); whenever Jacob & Edward got into a brawl, nothing could stop them.  You just had to let them go at it, and give them a list of things they broke, so that the Cullens could replace it all.

“Oh well”, I thought, “I’ve been wanting to get a new deck anyways”.  Maybe I should invite these two over more often when I need furniture replaced.

 

Little experiment which could greatly benefit everyone involved – Why don’t we tell each other our goals?  I’m not just talking about New Year Resolutions; what are our goals for the month?  The year?  The next 5 years?  Our life, in general?

The more people we tell about our goals, it makes sense that we create more resources/possibilities with which to achieve our goals (this could be labeled “networking”, but this little thing I’m going to start is much more proactive, I feel).

So let’s help each other out; even if we can’t help each other make progress on or achieve a specific goal, won’t we have a more enriched friendship from knowing our deepest goals and desires?

So I’ll start this thing – I’ll list my  top 5 goals, and the background or specs about the goal.  This could be your reasons for wanting this goal, and how this desire was born in the first place.  The reason for doing so is because I’ve found that it’s much more inspiring to know where a person is coming from and the reasons why they want something, as opposed to them simply stating their goal out of the blue.  Then your turn.

Goal 1) To have an awesome writing job(s) by March 22nd, where I work part-time and make $3,000+ per month

Background: I love to write.  I love money.  I love having a flexible schedule where I only work part-time, so that I can dedicate my time to other hobbies in life, and thus enrich more facets of my life.  For example: traveling, learning languages, modeling, graphic design, watching & reviewing film, playing video games, spending quality time with friends & family, reading, doing sporadic things.  I would love to write about those topics.  I know this is a possible goal, because I’ve talked with successful writers with the same situation (even better in some cases).

Goal 2) To have a monthly income of $10,000 by February 2013

Background: All my life, I’ve been poor.  The word “poor” is different for everyone, and I know tons of people can say they have been way more poor than me, but for me, I’ve always felt limited in life because of my limited finances.  My immigrant parents worked hard to ensure we had enough food and went to good schools, but money was always tight and I could see it on their faces and feel it in their energy constantly.  So I’m just sick of being limited by money. I want to be making $10,000 per month so I can buy my parents a house and ensure they don’t have to work another day in their lives unless they want to; I want to be able to buy things I want and do things I want anytime without having to check my bank account; I want to help others achieve financial abundance by donating to and setting up charities with which I align – LGBT/equal rights, children in developing countries, green energy, teaching languages & foreign culture in school, organic food, and much more.

Goal 3) To have a slim, toned body with a six-pack and V-cut stomach

Background: I was a butterball when I was a kid – I had moobs.  But one day I made a goal of being slim, and I’ve been committed to that goal ever since.  It’s been a road full of trial & error, frustration, and achievement, and I’ve come so far.  Each time I reach a physical goal, I create another, higher one.  Now my goal is to have a slim, toned body, because I find that sexy and graceful.  Plus, as a part-time model, I want to use my whole body to express and invoke a whole range of emotions in my photography.  Plus, I want to feel sexy.

Goal 4) To visit family in Ireland this summer with sister and mom.

Background: My dad’s family is in Japan, my mom’s in Ireland.  I want to have an enriched, deep connection to my Japanese & Irish relatives.  My family and I didn’t go last year because we didn’t have enough money, but I don’t want that to ever be a limiting factor again.  I want to visit my relatives in Japan and Ireland every year, at least once.  And I would like my younger sister, mother, and brother and his wife to join me, as I feel this will only enrich and strengthen our family bonds.

Plus, with so many of my Irish relatives popping out children, I feel a big sense of urgency to get to know and bond with these new family members.

Goal 5) To be living with Dustin in a place we both love by February 2013

Background: I want to live with Dustin because we make each other very happy and we love each other.  We want to see each other everyday, so we can make each other smile, laugh, support each other, and finally have a place of our own.

Now your turn!  What are your top 5 goals?  I want to know.  We, your friends, want to know.  Heck, even people you don’t know want to know your goals!  Let’s help each other.

 

Short story – “Mermaids”

My knees touch the sandy shore as I slowly crumple into a kneeling position.  The moonlight sparkles off random grains of fine sand, while leaving whips of silver thread on the ebbing water.  My palms shiver slightly as they press meekly to my face, acting as pathetic dams as they try to stop the constant flow of my tears.  I can feel the warmth of my red face, as well as feel the sticky residue of the salty bodily fluid.  The lone sound of the tide provides me some solace, reminding me that not just one waterworks is going on tonight.

 

I spread my knees slightly wider in the fine sand, my head turning upward to look at the moon.  As my fingers crack open to view the full moon, my tears blur its light, giving it a kaleidiscope appearance.  My hands drop slowly to the now onrushing water at my knees.  The tears perspirated on my hand mix with the tide, mixing and blending into this other, much grander pool of salty liquid.  For a moment, I wonder if there is someone else on the opposite side of this ocean, sharing their own tears, adding their own soul to this ocean of now black liquid.  Is this why the oceans are so salty?  People crying their hearts into them?

 

Like a pious Muslim, I bend my face down to the sliver of ocean water now brushing against the sandy floor.  My eyes open in the water, rinsed by them.  My quiet sobbing halts for a second as I collapse completely into the thin film of teary water.  Laying still, and letting the water seep under my chest and legs, I can feel the sadness welling up inside me.  I should get up, so I can breathe, or else I’m going to get a mouthful of sand and water.  But I let the growing ball of pain and sadness pulsate until it makes my body shiver and reverberate.  With my eyes shut tight so as not to let any sand in, my face shivers as I try desperately to hold back the tears, the inhale of grief.  Going against my natural impulses, I inhale while my head is submerged.  I feel the saltwater rush into my lungs, and the swirling sands seem to stay at bay from my mouth and nostrils.

 

I anticipate a burning sensation in my throat, but strangely I feel as if the water were some form of silky oxygen; the water invigorates, refreshes me.  More tears expel from my eyes as I exhale the water, my throat vibrating heavily as a troubled groan escapes it.  I dig my hands and knees into the sinking sand and head directly into the deeper water.  Another gulp of water.  More of my tears and anguish intermingle with the surrounding watery atmosphere.

 

My head tells me I need oxygen, but the turmoil in my stomach and chest don’t care what kind of oxygen they receive, as long as they can continue purging.  The saltwater filling my mouth tastes like the very tears I tasted running down my cheeks when it was exposed to air.  I want to be totally engulfed in these tears.  I head deeper and deeper into the calm waves, taking deeper breathes of my new oxygen.  My crying now hinges on the border of hysteria, and my eyes remain shut, as if I don’t want to face this bizarre turn of events.

 

A scream of sadness bursts forth from my chest, and I hear it muffled in the water.  I look up and finally open my eyes to see the liquid moonlight dancing on the water’s edge about 5 feet above me.  Pushing off against the sandy floor, I jet upwards with a weird source of propulsion.  The back of my head breaks the water’s edge as I snap my body back, exposing my chest to the heavens.  Miraculously, I get my entire body out of the water.  I do this screaming, the last mouthful of saltwater blending with the air to produce a gurgling bellow.  A strange sound I’ve never heard before.  This angry, extraordinary moment seems to suspend in time, and I have enough time to open my eyes and see the moon.  My body is suspended above the water; why haven’t I fallen by now?  For the first time, I forget the pain and grief inhabiting my body and mind, and I look around me hesitantly.  The waves continue making their rhythmic beat against the shore and lapping against each other.  I look down to see my big toe just above the surface of the calm water.  As my head slowly rises, I see as many as 7 people submerged waist-deep in the water ahead of me.  My eyes widen in confusion; these people are marble white, shirtless, some males, some females.  Their bodies look they were sculpted out of some white marble, and their eyes- they are as light and diluted like some translucent jelly.

 

They stare blankly at me, showing no signs of any emotion.  They form a loose triangle, and the one closest to me, a women, speaks to me.  But her mouth doesn’t open.  I can hear her in my mind; my tears are still curiously flowing form my eyes as I hear, no, feel her words in my head-

 

“You are at a crossroads right now.”, her voice ebbs in my mind, as if the wind blowing against wind chimes.  “You feel great sorrow right now, and you are connecting to a different plain of emotion, of being, of existence.”

 

I stare at her, bewildered, but still grasping her words.  My body continues to levitate about the now impossibly calm ocean surface.

 

“You can either go back to your world, your life, and face or deal with whatever has caused you such pain…”, she continued, “…or, you can join us and enter a different world.  There are more of us, and we have all been through the same level of sorrow and beyond that which you are suffering right now.  We live highly discreet lives, away from the world which caused us such grief.”

 

My mouth instinctively open to ask the women something, “What will happen?”  I don’t even ask who they are first; I feel a strange connection and understanding with them…

 

“You will become one of us- the Above World likes to call us many things, but you would perhaps recognize us as mer-people.”

 

A tiny gasp escaped my throat, my right hang coming up half-way to half-heartedly hide my astonishment.

 

“We live a tranquil, long existence, the other creatures of the sea providing a different brand of company.  The dolphins and the whales are the closest things to human affection and human spirit that you will encounter.  Know that once you enter this world, there is no turning back; you will be one of us for eternity.”

 

I stayed hanging there, hanging before one of the most bizarre choices of my life.  My head turned back to gaze at the terrestrial lights of the small town beyond the beach.  Images of people, things and events flash through my mind, an endless stream of them.  Like large, crude road bumps and pot holes, sensations and memories of pain flash through my mind and body along with the other memories and thoughts.  If this is my life flashing before my eyes, it has no doubt been a grief-stricken one.  What do I have back there?  Who or what do I have to hold onto?  This present question forces my head around to look upon these mysterious, silent people again.  I look up at the moon, and inhale my first breath of air since I laid my face in the waves on the shore.  Inhaling deeply and slowly, I hold it in my lungs for what feels like a minute.  I close my eyes, and admit my answer the same time I exhale.

 

“ Very well”, the woman said serenely.

 

My body, totally dry now from being suspended for so long, dropped slowly into the water.  As I looked down at my feet, I could see and feel a small tingling sensation starting in my toes.  This odd sensation warped and spread until it felt like someone was injecting honey into my legs.  My hands came up quickly to rub my eyes; was I seeing things?  The fronts of my legs turned as pale as the moonlight as they bonded together, the back of my legs turning a dark blue.  I let out a moan as the rest of my skin started crawling, or falling asleep- I couldn’t tell.  This metamorphosis continued until I was fully submerged in the now lukewarm water.  The strange bodily sensations stopped, and I touched my thigh with my hand.  Scales.  Glistening scales.  My hand moved up to my stomach, to find my skin more rubbery, like that of a dolphin.

 

I swam away with these mer-people, and stopped to look back at the world I was leaving behind.  My mouth opened slightly and I could taste the ocean mist on my tongue.  No, it wasn’t the ocean; two more tears had escaped both my eyes.  I turned solemnly around, and propelled myself farther and farther away, giving myself to this new life.

 

 

 

The moonlight shone bright on the rolling hills of the sandy beach.  Emily peered up at the bright orb in the sky, with billions of its neighboring stars spread out against a dark canvas, blotches of wispy clouds intermingled with it.

Emily’s dark hair reflected the moonlight, giving her the appearance of some ghostly widow with a shimmering shawl draped on her head.  Her pigtails stuck out plainly, they tiny spots of reflected light making them appear as two orbs connected to the side of her head.  She started walking towards the water.  The sound of the crashing waves became louder with each advancing step.  Her toes clutched slightly at the sand with each soft step she took.  Where were the seagulls?  Their squaky cries were absent, making the night more extraterrestrial.  The sound of the crashing waves.  Emily’s padded footsteps.  She broke into a sprint, dashing madly to the water.  Her hands ripped the bands restraining the ponytails.  She shook her head as she ran, as if trying to shake off any physically or mental shackles that were tied against her hair.  Her phantasmal shawl of moonlight now morphed into a bouncing, willowing one.  As she reached the top of the last big hill before the shore, her legs showed no signs of getting tired.  The water was not yet in her view; only its lone vocals could be heard.  As if beckoning the eager girl and giving her the energy to reach it, Emily bounded further and further up the sandy hill.  Dark splotches in the sand marked where her feet had dug into.  And then Emily saw it- the dancing lights of the ocean.  The moonlight kissing random spots of the water, the frothiness of the crashing waves as they combed the sand into a smooth, glistening belt of velvet.

Emily whooped in delight as this black and white scene bobbed into her view with each upward bound step she took on the hill.  When she reached the top, she paused.  Her chest rose and fell, her mouth slightly open with each inhale and exhale.  She stood there, staring at the ocean, her hands loosely at her sides.  A fast breeze pushed against her back.  She looked behind her at the distant sparkling lights of the city.  Was the city urging her to go to this other land of lights?  A land undulating and pulsing with fluidity and natural light reflecting off it.

With her head cocked towards the city, she closed her eyes and felt the lukewarm breeze push against her profile.  She rolled her head around, letting the wind play with her dark hair.  When her head rolled back to face the shore, she opened her eyes.  A sharp inhale of salty air.  Did the wind mold to her body as she slided with it into a run down the hill?  She seemed to float down the sandy pinnacle, her white nightgown billowing at her calves.  As she reached the bottom of the hill, she raised her hands slowly to her sides.  Messy stacks of driftwood sat against the foot of the hill- the girl’s only audience.

She kept running. Emily.  Her arms were spread perpendicular to her bouncing body, ready to serve as her faithful wings.  The booming sound of the waves became louder in Emily’s ears.  She was coming closer to the lapping water.  Had the wind picked up in speed and intensity behind her?  Emily’s hair whipped wildly around her head, her nightgown now wrapped and billowing in front of her from the rushing wind behind her.  This unusual blowing of her clothes gave her a queer look, as if she were running backwards.  One expected her clothes and hair to be blowing off her body to the back of her, and yet the wind was doing the exact opposite.  Her footprints left dark marks in the damp sand as she ran closer and closer to the frothing ocean waves.  A big wave pushed a sleek film of shimmering moonlight to the girl’s feet.  She kept running right onto the glistening water’s surface.  As if to add to the bizarre scene, her running feet seemed to not make any splashes on the long stretch of the wave’s broad arm on the shore.  Why weren’t her feet and legs being engulfed by the onrush of water?  As the second wave built up, the girl tried to jump over it.  Her bouncing hair blended in with the white splashes of the army of waves.  Wait.  Why wasn’t she breaking the water’s surface?  Had her feet broken the waves’ frothy surface?  Her milky-skinned feet touched down on the back of the second wave’s silky back.  She slid down its small, curved back.  What was going on???  She was walking on top of the waves!  She kept running out to sea, vaulting over the oncoming waves of shimmering moonlight.  Her figure became smaller and smaller as she kept sprinting on the pulsating surface of the dark water.  Blending in with the dancing moonlight on the water, the girl’s bouncing hair and white dress remained the only signs of her human form.  Farther and farther out she ran, exhaust being a thing of the human world she was running away from.  She was becoming part of the glossy surface of the sea, part of the ephemeral reflections of moonlight, even part of the roaring orchestra of the waves.  A small flash of moonlight emitted from the girl’s dancing shape- she was gone.  Or was she just part of the scenery?