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Two letters

Two letters

A simple word

One you couldn’t grasp

Impossible to understand

NO

I don’t have to beg

PLEASE 

I don’t have to cry

STOP 

I don’t have to justify myself

NO

I don’t have to explain why

PLEASE STOP

When this word left my mouth

I thought that would be enough

Was I not being clear?

STOP

Was it my fault?

NO

Yes.

I never should have trusted a man

Who could not comprehend

This two-letter word.

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I let you hurt me

Because it didn’t hurt

And even if it did

It’s not like you would stop

I begged for you to let me go

Did I not beg enough?

I thought I fought, I really did

Was “no” not enough?

And by the time I realized

It was too late

It was only a matter of time

Before you would do it again

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Robbed

Hi everyone! Please check out my story “Robbed” on the Potato Soup Journal website if you’re interested!

LINK

http://potatosoupjournal.com/robbed-by-alma-ariaz/

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Without Them

I like to think

I’m stronger than the demons

That made their home deep inside my soul

I like to think

I can be rid of their shadows

And yet they leave a dark, unfillable hole

I like to imagine

Tossing them away

Not knowing who I am or what I’m after

I lead myself astray

Further and further

For I don’t know who I am without them.

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Who is in Control?

I woke up in high spirits. The guardians allowed me to sleep in longer than they normally do, and it felt great. Perhaps someone new was recruited, and they were too busy making sure they’re well acquainted with how the system works. 

I felt a sharp jolt in my leg, and it was pulled out of bed onto the ground. Time to start my day! 

“Good morning!” I said with a big smile to my guardian, who was sitting by the foot of my bed, making sure I was sleeping peacefully throughout the night. “New recruit?” 

“Oh yes!” She quickly got up. “She is still a bit afraid, so we’re starting off easy.”

I nodded. I was like that too once, so I understand how the new recruit might have been feeling. Before I could get too deep in thought, my body began to move towards the bathroom, where my hands began applying the approved makeup for my age group and fixing up my hair in the mandated hairstyle. 

When I was first recruited, I always fought these feelings. I was used to having control over my own body; what now seems like such a silly notion. I now see, thanks to the guardians, that human beings can’t be trusted to make the right choices for ourselves. Therefore, I am now happy to rely completely on the guardians. They always make the right decisions for us; whether it is in relationships, jobs, or simple day-to-day activities. 

The only thing I still struggle with these days are my thoughts. I haven’t had the honor of surrendering my mind and thoughts to the guardians yet; this is only my first life, after all. This worried me tremendously. How could I trust myself to think the correct thoughts, to have the correct feelings, when my mind is only that of a human? How could I truly be dedicated to our cause when my mind is running wild?

When I was done in the bathroom, my legs started taking me to the cafeteria. The guardians have made the smart decision that since humans don’t really require as much food as we might think we do, we only need to eat once a day, and only in the mornings. The rest of our days are filled to the brim with work and activities, so there wouldn’t be much time to eat anyway. 

My body sat me down at the nearest table, and I began to eat. I tried to fixate on the meal I had received, something I usually have no problem with, but something else caught my attention. 

My head refused to move to look at her, but I saw her from the corner of my eye. It must have been the new recruit. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, her eyes fighting against her, adamant on keeping a straight face. 

I realized my head was turned slightly away from my plate, staring in her direction. After receiving an angry glare from the guardian watching over the cafeteria, my head quickly snapped back to look at my food. 

Ashamed, I continued to eat in silence. See, this is what happens when we humans get even the slightest bit of control over ourselves, I thought. I just wish the guardians could control my mind as well as my body. 

After meal time, we had a bit of time to socialize in a dedicated socializing room. This was when control over our bodies was slightly lifted, so we could communicate a bit more freely. However, we had to stick to a couple of approved topics of conversation, and if we strayed from them, control would be further seized from us, and punishment might be in order.

In the socializing room, I noticed the new recruit sitting quietly by herself. I felt a certain sympathy for her. She clearly had doubts about being recruited, and I wanted to help ease some of them. My body allowed me to sit down next to her, as opposed to where I typically tend to sit next to my usual conversation partners. 

“Hello!” I tried to start the conversation gently. “I’m number Sixty-Five. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jul..” She started, before quickly correcting herself. “I mean, my name is Eighty-Four.” 

I frowned; using our old names was strictly forbidden. They hold no significance, and we were encouraged to forget them as soon as possible after recruitment.  

I decided to let it go, as it was a mistake I made often on my first few days. 

“Welcome! We’re always happy to have new recruits.” I was prepared to say the welcoming speech, but she cut me off before I could begin. 

“Please, help me.”

“Oh, what’s the matter?” I asked in concern.

“Are you… serious?” Eighty-Four asked, bewildered. “Wait, you’re not one of them, are you?”

“If you’re referring to the guardians, no, I am not,” I said downheartedly. “I’m a simple recruit, just like you.” Oh, how I wished to be one of the guardians. Nonetheless, I was fated to be a mere human. 

“Recruit? You mean hostage?” 

I chuckled. “Why, no, of course not. We all lead joyful and content lives here, hostages are entirely different.”

Discouraged, she searched for words.  “Hold on, how long have you been here?”

I paused to think. We don’t tend to keep track of our time here; it stops becoming important after you’ve been here long enough. “If I had to guess, I would say only about thirty years,” I finally said. 

Her eyes grew wider. “No, no, no… “ Tears began to stream down her face. “What are they doing to us? Who’s controlling us?”

I sighed. “Oh, sweetie.” I tried to keep my cool, but I was growing tired. I hadn’t dealt with a new recruit in a couple of years, and had forgotten how irritating and hysterical they tend to be. “I assure you, the guardians only want the best for us. Since we humans can’t be trusted to control ourselves, they kindly volunteered to do it for us. It’s a noble act, really.” It was frustrating how she couldn’t see the true loving nature of the guardians. 

“No, you don’t understand!” She shouted. “I… I can’t stay here, please!”

 A few people paused their conversation and turned their heads in our direction. 

I felt a sharp electrical shock in my neck. Oh, great, I thought. I’m going to suffer for her childish behavior. This is what I get for trying to help a newbie again. No, I wasn’t planning on taking the fall for this again. I will not be called a traitor. 

Last time was… No, I will not go through that again. 

As guardians rushed into the room, we both looked on in horror. 

“What is going on here?” One of them asked firmly.

“The new recruit is talking badly of our methods,” I cried. “I tried to talk to her, but she will not listen.”

The guardians looked at each other and nodded. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” They said, before dragging Eighty-Four to the dungeon.

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Caprese Salad

“Has anybody seen a finger lying around?”

This wasn’t really how I expected to start a conversation on a beautiful Friday afternoon, surrounded by a gathering of people trying to enjoy their wedding rehearsal, but here we were. I also wasn’t expecting to be passing between tables, taking peeks at people’s plates and trying to fish out a finger from their salads, but life is an unexpected thing. 

None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t insisted on helping my sister with her catering business. I was supposed to take a self-care day, entirely for myself, but she found herself severely understaffed, and begged for my assistance. I take pride in my helpful and considerate nature, so I obliged. 

At first, everything was going just fine. I had taken on what I thought was the easiest job in the kitchen: chopping and preparing vegetables for a simple caprese salad. I consider myself to be pretty good with a knife, so I did well at this job, to my sister’s surprise. She doesn’t have much trust in my abilities, so I’d imagine she was pretty desperate for help that day if she asked for my assistance. 

Chop, chop, chop. Just the same, repetitive action over and over again. I began to let my mind drift to other things, chopping on autopilot. 

Chop, chop, chop… Crunch.

Oops.

Huh. So that’s what chopping off your finger feels like. 

“Come on, the guests are waiting for their food!” My sister shouted at me and began to gather the vegetables from my cutting board, distributing them neatly across plates, into organized caprese salads. I suppose she was in too big of a panic and stress to notice my finger, lying among the vegetables. 

Before I could stop her, she went out the door and into the dining room full of customers impatiently awaiting the first course of their meal. 

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Consumed

There’s no easy way out

Of this darkness I'm in

My mind has me trapped

My soul has me pinned

Consumed by the nightfall

Is this my cruel fate?

The dark has me cornered

I run, it’s too late 

I try to scream

I try to shout

This isn’t a dream

There is no way out.

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Walking in the Rain

I’ve always enjoyed walking in the rain. I find it a very effective way of drowning out the noise in my head. I guess it’s mostly the fact that being soaking wet and physically miserable blocks out the emotional and mental misery I'm in. 

I love the fact that there is no one on the streets when it’s raining, except for people like me. I love stepping in every puddle, my wet shoes making me so uncomfortable I forget about the battle that is going on inside my head. I love when all the worms and snails come out of hiding; ugly creatures that most people don’t pay any attention to, but I just adore. I love the feeling of cold rain hitting my skin, washing away all my troubles. 

I’ve always found the sun to be a bit overbearing, almost like forced happiness and positivity, that leaves me feeling worse. I hate feeling pressured to be outside and enjoy the sun. No one pressures me to get outside when it’s raining; it calls to me. It’s my time to be completely alone with my thoughts; no one else wants to be outside at a time like this. 

While I used to always be very fond of summer, I now despise it. It brings out all the worst people, while the rain keeps everyone else inside, and only the best people decide to come out and take a walk. They don’t bother me. While everyone else gives me weird looks, us rain lovers mind our own business, thank you very much. 

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Searching

I’ve looked all over

Searching for a sign

Anything at all

That used to be mine

I’ve looked near and far 

I’ve looked high and low

For wherever it is

I was too slow 

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Painting

I set up my easel on the edge of the lake. Never have I chosen a more perfect spot; the reflection of the sun had created a beautiful sparkle across the water. This scene brought me great inspiration. I could use a dark sapphire here, some baby blue there… Yes, this is coming out great.

I got my paints out of my bag and, feeling brave, started applying them directly to the canvas. As people passed by in canoes, I added their rough shapes to the painting. It was coming along well. 

I’m normally very critical of myself. How could I not be? All I was ever given is negative criticism, that constantly confirmed my view of my work.

My parents were always engulfed in my sister’s many talents and interests, and never bothered to pay very much attention to me. 

Not that I didn’t love and admire my sister; she passed many of her skills on to me. She gave me art classes every week, making sure I didn't fall far behind. I think she felt the injustice of the way our parents treated us. They always pitted us against each other, making me feel inadequate. 

In the thirty years of my life, I have never beaten my sister at anything. Despite her only being a year older than me, I felt I was always at a disadvantage. Sometimes I thought she was withholding some of her knowledge from me during our classes together, to make sure she always remained slightly superior to me. 

When our parents passed away, my sister never reached out to me. It was as if the only reason she maintained our relationship all these years was because she needed me to quench her thirst for competition. Although she went on to sell many of her art works in the years following their death, I must say her paintings have suffered severely in quality, and her art has never been the same as it was back in the day.

I snapped back into reality, where I stood silently by the lake, my paintbrush in hand, waiting to make a stroke on the canvas.  I dipped it into the paint, but to my surprise, found that it had dried up. How long had I been standing here? I looked up. The sun had partly set, and stars were starting to spread across the sky. 

It was only morning when I set out for the lake. I suppose I got lost in thought. 

Sighing, I started packing up my supplies. I was so prepared for a productive day when I set out this morning. I was about to start spiraling down a road of self-hatred and doubt, when I noticed something floating in the water. 

I took a few steps towards the lake, expecting to find a friendly duck waiting for a bit of food. 

Hm, that’s a peculiar shape, I thought. No, this was no duck. As I took a breath, I noticed a sour stench in the air. I suppose the lake isn’t as clean as it used to be. People these days, with their awful littering, have no respect for the beauty of nature. 

I got a bit closer. Whatever it was, it had a large shadow below where it was peeking out of the water. But what was that? It looked like… A pair of legs.

I realized that the large shadow was the torso of what once was a person. 

Feeling inspired, I smiled and began to paint.

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Dear Brother

It’s been a few years now since Adam’s… accident. Every time I think my heart is past suffering his loss and I’m in a better, healthier place, something reminds me of him and all the pain I felt back then comes rushing back. It could be the smallest thing, a song he once liked or a shirt I saw him wear, and it would be enough to send me spiraling. 

We were never very close, regrettably, but looking back at our shared memories, I can’t help but feeling guilty and ungrateful. He was a wonderful brother despite his flaws, and I regret not seeing that when he was still by my side. 

Every October 2nd, I grieve again. The cruel anniversary of his passing. It feels as if his soul is haunting me, not allowing me to move on with my life. And of course, it makes sense… It's what I deserve. But how was I to know I would regret the decision I made a few years down the line? I don’t tend to think about the consequences of my actions, it’s one of my shortcomings. 

At the time, I was blinded by red-hot rage. All I craved was revenge, and I was willing to go all the way to get it. 

As I lay in my hospital bed, I fear I will share the same cruel fate as my dear brother. Except this time, it won’t be undeserved.

As I walk through the gates, I am ready to be greeted by the unbelievable happiness of eternal paradise, where I can be reunited with him. But… 

… It’s burning hot, and he’s not there.