There’s a new person, a new kid in class. One of those edgy kids, the ones who don’t talk. Not to a single person. The teacher gives him an eagle eye but he doesn’t respond. It’s strange, this class is all about participation after all.
He stands tall, quite tall at that. Wears all black but a pair of white Nike Airs. It stays clean, unlike his hair. So scrambled, mixed with white flakes. It’s curled, a straight curl just like a snake. Fluffy like fur, smells like fur.
The teacher says, “Speak up.”
“Giving you one more chance.”
He doesn’t move an inch. Legs crossed. Eyes closed. Light breaths. I just want to poke him. I’ll wait though. Lunch is soon.
He sits by himself. Out on the outskirts of school, under a tree. The tree is dead, with no leaves. Sun shines on his hair, reflecting a dark black color. He nibbles on a chicken sandwich. The sandwich is gross. Still, he swallows it. I make a move towards him, my legs taking small skips. I land, take a seat down next to him. I wave. He doesn’t wave back. It feels like forever, asteroids have gone by, the sun has set, the starlight is twinking. Time skips so fast. It speeds by so fast. The bell rings.
I get up, I say, “Bye,” I know he won’t react, but there’s a warm feeling in my heart. It’s so wholesome, so nice, it’s so windy. It’s like the cool breeze on my back, I can’t really describe the feeling but it hurts, it hurts like a thorn. The weather is down low, it’s getting colder as the sun goes down early. Warmth in the morning, cold at night.
That’s it, I know what to call him now. I’ll call him “Brandon.”
I don’t have many friends, and neither does he. Neither of us has money to spend. I don’t have a personality, neither does he. One thing we have in common is a desire. Friends.
I made an excuse, “Hey, do you wanna go to the boba shop with me for a club thing?”
“Yea, sure I’m down,” he says.
Walk down the street, sounds of rumbling engines to our left. Our eyes don’t meet, both stare straight on the floor.
It’s his turn to make a move, not mine. I made the first move. I asked him to go on a trip with me. It’s my inner demons. The second voice in my head. But also. We’re both awkward. There’s a war going on between us. Am I overthinking? no. We arrived.
Barista asks, “What y’all want?”
Honestly, I just want to be like the others, “A brown sugar milk tea with boba please.”
“Anything she has,” he answered robotically.
“That will be $15.07,” We pay for the drinks, “Thanks for drinking our boba tea.”
“You too!” he responded. His face glitters up red. Bright red.
We take a seat at the furthest table after getting our drinks. I stab into the plastic wrap lightly. He stabs it harshly. Tea comes spilling. Drops on his shirt, drops on the table, the plastic on the cup becomes a sea of tea.
He awkwardly takes a sip from the top and begins, “Hey, thanks for…”
It was just another day, another party. Flashing lights below and a half-broken disco ball hanging from the ceiling. The broken disco ball was still shining, it was like the egg yolk within the egg. Except, it shone. Bright. Still, the whole room was dim. People blocked the light at the bottom of the stage from going up. These displayed the shadowy figures in various spots atop the building roof. The place itself was split into 2 small floors. One floor is above the other but around the outside perimeter, separated by railings and a stairway. These upper floors were cleaner than below but still littered with trash and drinks. The people who stay up there littered their trash down below to the ones on the dance floor like feeding fish.
Every Sunday I and a couple of friends hit up the club. All came dressed in black and sweaters that reached the knees. Every time we went in happy, we came out sad and distraught. The club was meant to be a happy place, a place where you would forget all your crimes and worries for a resolution, a resolution that would make you better.
Someone always rang the police. They never came. They didn’t care about the rudeness of the club. They didn’t want to put the effort into quieting the place down. The town was already run down and full of kids so why would they? The place has all gone downhill, neighbors stopped caring about the community and so did the government. Nobody cared, it was just anarchy. There was no order in this wasteland.
Once upon a time, there was a man who worked very hard. Day and night he mined. At home, he cooked and cleaned. All of this for a sweet dream. A dream that one day he’d get big. One day, a miracle will come. One day, he’s going to get big. One day, he will. He will.
Everyone has a dream, not as wild as his. He doesn’t progress, he doesn’t go anywhere. As time passes by, the realization of this slowly kicks in. He starts off denying it, saying that it doesn’t have to end like this. Dreams are forever, none are false, he says. Second after second, day after day, he becomes guilty, angered, and depressed. This realization hits him. There are no miracles.
The cobwebs on the walls become increasingly large. It makes the breeze change, the brightness of the sun tones down, and the skies don’t shine as bright. It was once a clean home, full of wonders and shine, but now it’s none of that. It was more of an empty palace than a careless daydream. Life isn’t the same anymore, these days the birds are driven off the land. No more chirping bright in the morning skies, no more chirping in the dark shining nights. This goes with the lantern, no fuel to be burned. No drive, no power to be shown.
One night, the stars shone brightly. Falling stars started to cover up the skies, it was like a blanket. A blanket of stars. Once in a lifetime experience, the man hopped out of his rocking chair and looked up. Once again, his eyes shone. This lit a fire. The lantern within his heart started a fire.
Slowly, he started to rebuild. Brick and wood. The house became magnificent, a stone palace. Hard as the heart. Still as a rock. Once again, there’s nothing left to tip the man over. He’s as free as a bird. It’s a different world.
Out of Luck
Even though these seas have never favored us, we still passed through. We passed through the enclosing caves of the seas. We ate from the sinking ships of the sea. We strived. Strived off nothing but glory and gold. For conquest, we strive. Until the caves enclosed. We sank. To the bottom.
I wake up. The smell of dust and sea floods my nose. The ship is breaking apart and the broken planks of the boat are folding upon itself. It collapses on me, folding around me. This isn’t safe, it’s not protecting me from anything. We sink. The ocean floods in.
I wake up. The crawls of bugs on my arms jump me. The flashing sun hits my head and I remember. It’s the same feeling I felt before all of this sailing happened. All of this mining. It was such a grand world, no dangers, no fears. Now I’m stuck in a paradise. No, hell.
It’s a beautiful place underground, a giant pond with wildlife in it. No dead animals, no rotting plants, no darkness. Why is this place so sad then? Is it hiding something behind its curtains? I kept walking around until I saw a four-legged ape devouring something in front of me. It was red. A bird. The sky turns black. The world turns black. Everything fades away.
There are many memories of this place. It turns the sweet to the sour, the bright to the dark. The comparison of everything here is very different. People don’t talk about it much anymore but this orphanage was a mess. From the bottom up. Set in a disastrous 19th century, this place was the place for experiments. Children donated from across the land, perfect twins. Blonde hair, blue eyes, good chins. All intelligent.
Still, After all this time, we’re still investigating the remains of this place. The missing case files of the people who used to inhibit this glass palace. Two kids, twins. Both were born from an experiment here, but they escaped. Sought after as the geniuses of this age, although nowhere to be found.
We search the building, slamming open every locker. None. When this place was burned down, someone left with the papers. Someone wants to erase their very own existence. It shivers my bones, it turns the air heavy, I can’t stand the thought of a ghost. So many questions, so few answers. Just imagine what ran this place back in the day. Scientists monitor and experiment on obedient kids. No sounds of play, just the sounds of quiet and pencil writing.
Hours pass by, no evidence is gathered. No information was found. This place was an empty shell of what it used to be. Shoveled under the ocean of time, the past is covered. But still, the lookout for the twins is still out there. We need to get this out to the world, show the horrors of the past.