I wanted it to be a cardinal.

 

 

Ruby feathers that spread from one side of the country to the other. 

 

 

When I looked into his eyes, that were the color of a rose in bloom, I was mesmerized by the wealth of memories it held within.

 

 

As though it had lived many ages where people forgot. They forgot how to flesh out the falseness that poured into their minds.

 

 

No shield was powerful enough to deflect the lies.

 

 

Don’t be fooled by its light stature. The bird soared through wind and rain. Its strength wasn’t on the outside. It was in his actions.

 

 

I wanted it to be a cardinal.

 

 

Or maybe I needed it to be.

 

 

This happened a lot, where I wished something was what it wasn’t. Must be the dreamer in me. Grasping for beauty when beauty doesn’t exist.

 

 

But it was only a small flag. 

 

 

A stick in the ground with a red piece of plastic waving in the breeze to warn people not to dig.

 

 

It started with the morning sun,

it hovered over the earth,

warming it with its wisdom.

But the grey clouds shaded it

from the truth.

 

The ocean rose with great force,

leaving people to wonder.

White caps breaking, shattering,

into pieces that would never

be put back together.

 

How could they heal after such a storm?

Each day melted into another.

Rain poured like tears,

endless tears from the sky.

 

The dark clouds should’ve warned them,

but they came so often.

Forceful wind pushed back the layers

of what they had become.

 

People fled.

There was nowhere to go.

Anger drifted over the land like fog.

When it lifted, everything was gone.

 

Where was the sun?

Where were the stars?

Such light should’ve never faded.

 

Cold.

Brittle pain edged its way through their floating souls.

There was no color.

 

The roaring sea settled down with each breath lost.

Millions never stood again.

The white sand dirtied with fear,

corrupted with lies.

 

Bodies shifted.

The earth cracked.

Lightning struck.

It was too much to swim in.

 

Far from who they were.

Far from their core.

Sewn into a web that kept them there

for an eternity.

 

 

 

Dancing out of the Fire

 

Her heart danced.

She was like light that sifted through time and swayed with thought

Where to? She wondered

 

No one to chase her

She was free

The birds took to flight and lifted her with them

Their wispy feathers brushing up and down, weaving her through the clouds

 

The fire that once burned so long ago

Had been ignited

She created sparks with each flying moment

 

Sounds of spring were coming

She could hear them from far away

They sounded like dandelions that blew in the wind

Bringing wishes

 

A ballet of dreams whispered in her ears

Reminding her that they had been there all along

 

Shades of colors twirled by her

She grabbed on

They lifted her higher and higher

Climbing toward the rays of radiance

 

Memories tucked in small places

But out of the way

 

Her translucent loveliness glowed

She stood on her toes, pirouetted

Spun as gold flakes fell

She was alive

Breathing

Being

Her

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stem by Stem

 

 

When moonlight calls

I’ll be there

When the rain falls

I’ll be there

 

It’s not my duty, it’s my goal

It’s not my fault, it’s in my soul

 

Distance is no longer

I’ll hold your hand this time 

much stronger

 

Bear with me my friend

It’s tough to speak

I won’t pretend

 

Waiting is where were at

It harbors us

So, don’t you fret

 

I’ll be there

When the light shines through

I’ll be there

Always beside you

 

ANNELIESE

 

Night of November 9, 1938, Germany, everything changes.

I run to my window. There are people everywhere. What are they doing? Wait…I recognize them. My neighbors. They are carrying a flame in one hand and a brick in the other. My teeth start to chatter. I see the dark images moving closer. I back away from the window. Glass shatters at my feet.

“Papa!”

He opens his arms and I run into his embrace. Someone is pounding on our door. The house starts to shake. Books fall to the floor. The shutters knock against the stone exterior. He pulls me closer. I lean into him, crying against his shoulder. He strokes my curly blonde hair. I think he might have said something to me, but I can’t hear him. Dogs are barking, people are shouting obscenities. “It is time to put you people in your place.” I hear someone shout.

“Someone’s coming!” Papa says. “Hide. Quickly. Under the bed.”

“Don’t leave me, Papa.”

“Shhh,” he says.  

The door creaks open. An officer enters, raises his arm out. “Heil Hitler.”

I try to remain quiet, but my teeth are still chattering and now my body is trembling with irrevocable fear.

“By the order of Joseph Goebbels, you are under arrest.”

“Please, sir. I can’t go.”

The black-clad SS soldier looks around. “Is someone else in here with you?”

My Papa’s silence is an obvious answer.

Another soldier runs into the room, blowing his whistle. I hear footsteps coming closer. I try to hold my breath, but I can’t. I need air. In the darkness, a hand snakes out and coils around my wrist. Tightening his grip, he yanks me to standing. “Foolish girl.”

Papa looks down at me with eyes of defeat. “Go upstairs to Tante Victoria. She will look after you while I’m gone.”

The soldier releases his grip. Quickly, I run over to my papa, clutch his hand, and bury my wet face into his brown wool overcoat.

“You should do as your told.” The soldier’s voice is like fingernails on a chalkboard. He walks toward us, his black boots marking up our floor and pushes Papa forward with the barrel of his gun. I can smell the cigarette on his breath and notice a scar above his left eyebrow.

“No, no,” I demand. “You will not take him away from me.”

The soldier gives me an assessing look and takes my arm. I can see merciless power searing from his evil eyes. Drunk on it. I yank my arm back from his grip and become unsteady. He smiles and pushes me across the floor, sending me into the wall. I can feel warm blood in my hair, running down my face and into my mouth.

Papa bends down at my feet. “Anneliese.”

“Don’t,” the soldier says sharply.

Papa moves closer to me.

The soldier cocks his gun. “Steh auf!”

Papa glares at the soldier. He slowly stands and looks directly at the weapon. The soldier takes aim. I can see the white in his eyes. Papa lurches for the soldier’s gun. Bang, bang. Papa staggers sideways and turns to look at me one more time. Blood drips from his shirt and his face turns pale. His knees buckle and he falls face first onto the hard floor.

“Papa, wakeup, wakeup…”

“Hanns,” the other soldier says. “Let’s go.”  

The two men disappear. I hold Papa’s cold limp hand, not wanting to let go, not ever. My eyelids are heavy. I try to keep them open—but I can’t. My head, it’s throbbing, a pain I’ve never felt before. The light from the oil lamp is flickering on and off or is it me?

There’s an unfamiliar aroma, chicory coffee and fresh bread. Wait…I blink my eyes open. Papa doesn’t drink coffee. I sit up. The room is spinning, and my head is pounding. This is not my bed. Where am I? How long have I been here? “Papa! Papa!” I grab my stomach. “Oh, Papa…Come back to me.”

“You need to eat something before we go.” Victoria wraps her scarf around her head and neck. She reaches for the wholemeal bread. “Eat. No time to dawdle.”

“I’m not hungry.” I brush the plate away from her hands and it falls to the floor and breaks.

Victoria frowns. “Tsk, tsk…You want to starve, so be it.” She pulls a brown leather suitcase from under the bed. “Hurry, dress. We must go.”

I follow her downstairs. There are people in my apartment as we pass by, my neighbors. They are stealing from us. Taking our good paintings. Leaving black shapes on the wall in their place. Tante Victoria shoves the suitcase in front of me, blocking my eyes. I glance up at her and see her stare at them with a sting of judgement.

The sky is bright red. As we pass the Synagogue, I see flames engulfing the building. Nearby, firefighters stand idly by, making sure flames don’t extend to other buildings. School kids watch from across the street. Smiling and laughing. It looks like they are at a circus. I am so confused. This destruction, it is bad not good.

I climb the steps of the train, hearing the whistle blow, keeping my head down. Victoria rushes me to my seat and nods for me to scoot near the window. I am grateful for the black whirling smoke from the train that fills the morning air. It prevents me from seeing out.

Victoria leans down and whispers, “If anybody asks, you are my daughter now,” she says. “From this point you’ll be Sophie Durand. You were born in Paris like your mum and me.” She adjusts her scarf to cover most of her face. “It is good that you look like me. Oui?”  

I don’t respond.

“Your mum, she was beautiful.” She clears her throat. “I miss her every day.”

Warm, salty, tears fall, unchecked.

“No, no,” she says. “You mustn’t fall apart.” She tilts my chin up. “Courage, it is in you. I know it is.”

When we arrive in Paris, automobiles rumble past us as we walk down the narrow cobblestone streets. Ivy pours down the side of the limestone buildings and the balconies are embellished with colorful mums.

In less than twenty minutes, we arrive at a stone country villa, two-story with red shutters, that has overgrown shrubs. Centered in the courtyard is a statue of a naked woman carrying fruit on top of her head with weeds climbing up the sides. Around it rests damp red and orange leaves. The place looks sad, almost as sad as I feel.

Victoria pauses before she opens the sturdy red door. I notice her hand is shaking. She looks around the orchard and then pushes the large door open with her foot. We stand in the salon for a moment while she sets the luggage down on the floor. Then, she starts ripping the white sheets off the furniture. “Anneliese—” She hesitates. “I mean Sophie. It is dangerous for us to mention that name again.”

I nod.

 “We’re home.” She flattens the front of her dress. “It’s time to clean and get settled in.”

While dusting, I stare at a picture of my mum that sits on the mantel above the fireplace. Her deep blue eyes radiate with joy. I sense she is here. Papa never kept her pictures visible for me to see. I do not know why. Maybe, her memory was too much for him. Now, I have something to hold, to talk to.

Victoria comes up beside me. “This picture,” she says. “I remember this day. Our parents took us to the park to have a picnic.” She snickers. “Your mum. She thought she was invincible. She walked the top of fence posts and rode her bicycle with no hands.” She sighs. “Listen to me. In the coming days, life…it will get hard. I need you to be brave like your mum. Can you do this for me?”

I glance at the picture and then back at Victoria. “Yes.”

“Good,” she says. “Now, come. Let me fix you some supper.”

 

 

On a cold day in early January 1941, I stare out the window looking at the six inches of snow that blankets our yard. Last night, I had a dream that my papa and mum were holding my hands. I woke up smiling. These days, it is rare that I smile.

Wearing layers of clothes, I walk downstairs and feel a wave of warmth splash over me, noticing the fire that Victoria has made. Quietly, she sits on a divan in the living room, reading. Darkness fills the room even with the light from the fire. Curtains stay closed these days. She says only danger lurks outside.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Don’t answer it,” she says, with a jerk toward the door.

We both stare at one another. Silence.

A few minutes later, another knock at the door but this time it’s louder.

“Stand behind me.” The door rattles. Another knock. Victoria reaches for the knob, but before she can open it. The door swings open, knocking her to the floor. “Mon Dieu,” she mutters.

A German soldier drops a piece of paper to the floor and kicks it over to Victoria. “I have a requisition order to billet here.”

“A Nazi living in my home?” she questions. “I think not. You must leave.”

“I will do no such thing.” He removes his military hat and stands as straight as a flagpole with blood shot eyes.

Those eyes. They are familiar and that scar. “No, no,” I say. “We must not argue with the soldier. Here. Let me take your things to your room.”

“Finally,” he says. “A girl who knows how to respect a man of my status.” He hands me his bags.  

Victoria tilts her head to one side.   

This is an unusual twist of fate. Does he know who I am? Of course, he doesn’t. I was not a human being to him that day.

He chooses the biggest bedroom in the house and looks around.  “Yes, this will do.”   

I drop his bags with care and turn to leave.

“Wait,” he demands.

I swallow hard and turn around.

“I am Hanns Ewers. You are?”

“Mademoiselle Sophie Durand.”

He takes a cigarette out from his shirt pocket, lights it. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It is how I was raised, perhaps?” I force myself to not look away.

His slimy blue eyes study me behind a veil of white smoke.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

He waves his fingers in the air and lowers his head. “No.”

I step out of the room. Once I’m out of site, I release my breath. Victoria comes around the corner and drags me into the kitchen. “Are you mad?” she whispers. “He will kill us if he finds out the truth.”   

I wrap my hands around hers. “You told me to have courage, right?”

She shakes her head. “We’ll need more than courage,” she says. “We need a plan.”

I want to tell her this is the man that killed my papa, but we have a plan to discuss and before I can explain my actions…

“Ah, Madame and Mademoiselle,” he says, his gaze narrowing as he approaches. “There you both are.”

“Oui,” Victoria says, taking a deep breath.

“I will of course need to see your identity papers,” he says. “It is only customary.”

“P-papers?” Victoria says, her voice unsteady.

“Did you not hear me correctly?” His voice thunders.

She starts to walk toward the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the papers as you asked,” Victoria says.

“You tell me where they are, and I’ll get them.”

“There’s no need. It’s much easier for me to retrieve them for you.”

He stomps his foot, leaving a muddy footprint on the floor. “You will not leave my sight.” He points to me. “Girl, you go get the papers. Now!”

In the living room, I stare for several seconds at the locked drawer in the desk. I know what’s in there. Victoria showed me. The key is hidden underneath the chair.

Slowly, I draw the Pistol from the drawer and hide it beneath the papers and walk into the kitchen. Paralyzed. Face-to-face with a man I do not know but has declared himself my enemy. I cannot move. Nor do I want to. It’s all lies. All of it. Our people are no different than his people. Why doesn’t he understand this? Why must I lie about who I am to protect their injustice? “My name is Anneliese Strauss, and you killed my papa.”

“I know who you are,” he says.

Bang, bang.

The room becomes out of focus. My body is heavy, so heavy that I cannot stand anymore.  

“Anneliese!” Victoria cries, crumbles to the floor and sweeps me into her arms. She lifts my head as warm blood drips from my stomach.

“Was I brave like my mum?”

“Oui,” she says brokenly. “So brave.”

I feel her arms slip out from beneath me.

Bang.

He staggers backwards and collapses. 

SHINING LIGHT - SHORT STORY GENRE: SCIENCE FICTION

 

I’m starting to learn that reality is a fickle thing. The truth can be distorted, stretched into new dimensions and not many can see it for what it is.

At school they call me Grey Cloud. I guess because my hair is grey. My name’s really Ellie. According to Mom, I’m a Dream Walker. She says I was chosen by the gods to walk between worlds when I dream. The truth is I don’t really believe her. She has an overactive imagination. She says I must believe.

“Hold my hand,” I say to Sarah. She grabs my pinkie finger which is frozen. “We’ve only got two more blocks.”

“Sissy, I’m tired.”

It’s hard to see. The heavy wind pushes us back as we try to gain momentum. Storms. I’m so done with the storms. Our weather is so unpredictable. One day it’s hot with thick unbreathable air and the next day we have snow. “I know you’re tired. I’m tired too. None of us have slept in days.” I bend over and wrap Sarah’s scarf a little tighter around the lower half of her face. “Look, Mom needs us to get a few things from the store. Tomorrow’s Christmas.”

She nods.

I grab Sarah’s arm. “Stop!”  

A hologram appears in front of us on the sidewalk. An image of the world spins and slowly darkens. “WARNING. Earth is no longer inhabitable. President Genesis has made it mandatory that anyone under twenty-one years old must leave to live on Mars. We have been told that a new habitat has been created there underground.”

“Sissy, look. Lights.”

I hold my forefinger to my lips. “Shush. Stop annoying me.”

“This is the beginning of the end. The world will no longer exist in eight days. There won’t be a year 3000. Global warming. Our ancestors knew plastics were bad for the environment. They knew that they were non-biodegradable. Even though our ancestors knew the consequences of plastic, they continued to make it. Plastic tables, chairs, toys, toothbrushes, glasses, plates, floors, car parts, even houses. The list goes on and on. It was as if they wanted to destroy the planet on purpose.”

Sarah tugs on my shirt. “Sissy, sissy…Look.”

“Will you stop?”

She jumps up and down. “Pretty lights!”

“I don’t care about the stupid lights!” I snatch her hand. “Now, come on.”

There are crowds of people at the store. Most of them are children. They’re the only healthy ones. After three hours of waiting in line, we made our way into the store. “We should’ve come earlier like Mom asked us to. There’s nothing here.” I grab Sarah’s hand and pull her around the store. “No water, bread, non-dairy milk…What are we going to do?”

Sarah shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh good,” I say. “Meatless turkey. Sarah, put it in the front of the cart. I don’t want it to get smashed.”

Sarah wraps her small hands around the cold meatless turkey and drops it into the front. “Sissy?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?”

I start to chew on my lips. “No more questions. We need to get this stuff home so Mom can start cooking.”

We enter the house bubble and lock the chamber door behind us. Slowly, we take our oxygen masks, thermal coats, and gloves off, releasing the pressure. Then we make our way into the living room. The walls are decorated with a paper Christmas tree, some paper lights, and paper stockings. But it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Not anymore. But that’s fine with me. Every year it comes too early. Mom and Dad get stressed out, fight. Everything I liked about Christmas is gone. And now…How can I leave my family? How? What will happen to my parents?

Christmas morning, Sarah sits by the tree opening her gift. “Mommy,” Sarah says loudly. “Someone’s knocking on the door.”

Mother and Father turn toward each other.

“Ellie, take your sister upstairs,” Mother says.

We sit at the top of the stairs and hide behind the wall. I motion for Sarah to scoot next to me. With care, I peek around the corner.

Father moves in beside Mother, placing a hand at the small of her back, urging her to move forward. She opens the door. Two men are standing there, both wearing white robes with a bluish silver belt.

“We’ve come for Ellie and Sarah,” says the older of the two men. His hair is white, and his skin is pale with eyes veiled by a net of wrinkles.

“No, you can’t,” Mother says.

“It’s orders,” he says.

“We’re their family now.”

“But they’re not your daughters.” His voice is low, but his words are like a crack of a whip.

“We love them and have raised them as our own. We kept them safe as we were asked. They won’t understand.”

“Perhaps not,” he says. “They need to be with their kind. We cannot leave them here to die.”

Mother leans over with her hands on her knees, gasping for air, unclean air.

“G-girls, come down,” Father yells with his voice breaking and his chin trembling.

We slowly come downstairs, taking one step at a time.

Mother and Father rush to our sides and bend down together to hug us. “We will always love you,” Mother says. “Remember that.”

We stare at our parents with tears and confusion.

“Mommy? Daddy?” Sarah says.

“Ellie,” Mother whispers. “Take this.” She hands me a small gift. I tuck it into one of my socks. When the gift touches my skin, there’s a faint glow.

The two men grab our arms and rush us into their silver bullet spaceship. Sarah launches herself at the window, pressing her palms up against the glass. “Mommy! Daddy!” Just like lightning—we’re gone.

We travel through dark vastness that’s scattered with light. It’s like an unbounded continuum of music notes that dance and feed off the rhythm of celestial bodies. All working together as one.

“Where are we?” I ask. “This doesn’t look right. Mars is supposed to be red, not white.”

“We have taken you to the beginning of time,” he says. “Everything you know to be true, isn’t. Humans were created here on planet Zera. Our kind have used other planets as experiments. Earth being one of them. We wanted to see how long it would take humankind to self-destruct. It’s human nature. It lives in our subconscious. We innately know what is right and what is wrong but time and time again we choose to be selfish and greedy. All planets have failed.”

“This can’t be true,” I say.

The man points to a woman with long white hair. She wears a sheer white dress that brushes the sand beneath her. The sky is iridescent, and the air is breathable. There is no hazy fog like home. Shimmering lights hang from the trees and lanterns line the pathways.

“My name is Aster.” She pauses. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Why?” I ask and then look down at my sister who hasn’t stopped crying.

“Christmas day. This day to most was a symbol of what humanity should be but isn’t. It was pure. Earth’s atmosphere used to shine on this day, like a star. We could see it from here. But now, oxygen levels have plummeted. Threat is imminent. And no one can stop it.”

“We can change,” I plead. “I know it. Send us back and I’ll persuade them all to change.”

“My child, it’s not that simple,” she says. “We planted seeds, sent storms of warning, and transmitted messages through dreams. None of it was enough to stop the destruction. Mankind leads with filthy hands. They purposely hurt each other with words. Hatred spreads like wildfires. Oceans of bloodshed. And for what? Nothing. No one gains anything from it. Their hearts have darkened. Their minds have become riddled with jealousy, ungratefulness.”

I narrow my eyes toward her. “So, you punish them with death?”

“No. They punish themselves. Every injurious behavior leaves them emptier inside. They do it.”

“What about my parents? They’re good people. You know that. Why must they die?”

“Life is unfair. Our decisions are based on what the majority does. We cannot single out all the good ones. It would take too long.”

“But doesn’t that make you as bad as they are?”

“Ellie, you do not know what you speak. Your heart has darkened like theirs.” She points into the air. “Men, send these two away.”

One of the men yanks me nearly off my feet and drags me away. The other man marches forward and grabs Sarah by her arm.

Sarah stumbles to the ground. “No!”

I break free from the man’s grip and reach for Sarah, guarding her from the evil men. “Stay away from my sister!” I say, gritting my teeth.

Aster raises her arm and a ray of light pulses from her hand. It separates us. “Girls, please…We don’t want to harm you.”

“Then let us go,” I say.

“Once we erase your memories, then we’ll set you free.”

“But I—”

“No more pain, Ellie. You will live in peace. Isn’t that what you want?”

“What about my sister, and my family…”

Aster shakes her head. “They’ll no longer be your family.”

I blink back tears as Sarah looks up at me with red puffy eyes. She reaches her hand out for mine. Our fingers touch.

“Take them away,” Aster says. “Do not let them sleep. Now go.”

We are put into a white room that has loud piano music blaring into our ears. Sarah cuddles up beside me, holding my hand. Believe…believe…I hear my mother’s soft voice. I take the gift out of my sock and open it. It is a small star with no color. Almost looks as though it’s dead.

“Lights, sissy.”

“Not now, Sarah.”

Sarah stands up and points to the star in my hand. It’s dark.

I throw the star across the room. “Don’t you get it. We’re never going to see Mom and Dad again. Who cares about some ridiculous lights!”

Sarah walks over and picks the star up in her hand and hands it back to me.

I close my eyes, then open them again. The star begins to flicker. But when Sarah removes her hand from mine it turns dark again. I grab her hand and place it back onto the star. It shines but stops. Sleep. Why would they not want us to sleep? “Sarah, close your eyes.”

Sarah closes her eyes and I close mine. The room starts to shake, keeping us from sleeping.

“We’re going to play a game, okay? Let’s pretend we're popcorn. Can you do that?”

Sarah nods with a smile.

“Now close your eyes and think about Mom and Dad.”

She closes her eyes as we are thrown around the room.

“Mom, I need you,” I say. “Can you hear me.”

“Believe, Ellie. It’s within you. Your name means Shining Light.”

I open my eyes. “Sarah, am I the light?”

She nods her head up and down really fast, smiling from ear to ear.

“I believe.” Something inside of me grows. I grab Sarah’s hand and hold it tight and lift the star in my other hand. A ray of light springs from our bodies, sending a colorful radiance through the galaxy.

Earth shines again and so do I.

“Wakeup, sissy.”

I rub my eyes. “Home?”

She drags me downstairs. I smell gingerbread and feel the warmth of the fire. “What’s this? A real tree, stockings, gifts. It can’t be. I must’ve been dreaming.”

Mother kisses me on my cheek.

Father pats my head. “Your hair? It’s white.”

“But how?” I ask.

Mother smiles and gives me a wink.