theperksofwritersblock

[theperksofwritersblock]

Dystopian Prompt: I don’t have a name, but I believe I am number 6.

I feel so heavy. 

Bare feet slapped against the white tile floor at a rapid pace and echoed through the long white hallways. Knowing they wouldn’t help her anyway she ignored the small signs to the left side of the closed doors and threw her right hand out. She pushed against the corner wall leading into the next hallway and catapulted herself into it. There was no slowing down, at least not yet.   

I need to get out of here. 

Finally, an exit sign not too far out of her reach. Her breathing was ragged and sweat poured down her face but the adrenaline wouldn’t let her relax until she was safe. She could hear the shouting from behind her, closing in. They couldn’t have been farther than a hallway now. 

“You couldn’t contain a little girl? Are you an idiot?”

“It happened so fast!”

The voice shrieked and then girl let herself smile. 

Her arms pumped at her sides until she had gotten closer then she moved them out in front of her to push open the heavy gray door. An alarm blared in her ears as she hurried across the hot pavement but it was soon dulled by the whistling of the fall wind. Her feet would feel the pain later. 

Through the open part in the gate and past the parking lot.

She licked her teeth, her body screaming for water. She pushed back the foliage before the fence and tried not to wack herself with branches in the process. Her hands reached out in front of her feeling around on the lower half of the fence.

“Split up! She couldn’t have gotten far!” 

Panic bubbled in her chest as her hands became more frantic. Finally she breathed a sigh of relief as she peeled back the crudely cut fence and slipped through.

“Fuck-” 

She cursed in another breath, feeling the slow drip of blood fall down her leg. 

Keep going.

The whirl of helicopters deafened the noise around her. As she waited for it to pass she crouched down and reached for the back of her leg. Swiping at the blood she rubbed it off on her hospital gown and ran at her full speed across the parking lot. Her feet slapped against the asphalt, dodging parked cars and making sure she was concealed behind the taller ones. She squinted as she ran, her vision focusing hard on the woods in front of her. A vehicle, half tucked away behind several bushes and a large tree, sat idly. That was her ticket out of here. She stayed put as a car whizzed at full speed past her and shrieked out of the parking lot. She ran straight towards the woods, ignoring the collective shouting from behind her. This was her last chance and she wasn’t going to screw it up.

The door from the van slid open just in time for her to jump into it. She rolled onto the floor and gasped for air, staring at the ceiling of the van.

“We got her! Move this tin can!” The voice shouted at the drivers who jerked the vehicle into gear.  

“You sure this is her?”

“Shut up Malcolm and get this girl some water.”

“A’right Boss, a’right.”

She sat up on her elbows and felt uneasy as the car lurched then trembled through the woods. The noises around her started to come into focus as she looked around. There wasn’t much in the back except for a boy and a girl who looked about her age, a couple backpacks that had seen better days, and a case of water. The boy unscrewed the cap to the water and held it out. Scrambling to sit up, she sat cross-legged leaning closer to the wall of the car and took the water bottle gingerly. 

“I’m Skye, we were the ones who left you the note in your book.” Skye gave her a toothy grin and reached up to hold onto the seat in front of her.

“Five minutes until the rendezvous point, boss.” The passenger in the front looked back nodded to Skye, who nodded back, and turned up the music.

“We’ll tell you everything when we get there but how about you give us your name first.” Her voice matched the gentle appearance of her face. 

“I don’t have a name, but I believe I am number six.” Six looked up at Skye with her big doe eyes before taking a long gulp of water.

“I guess we’re going to have to change that, aren't we?”

written 14 October 2019

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Scifi Prompt: You and your buddy are currently imprisoned in a spaceship jail cell.

Setting: A silver haired male and his dark haired companion argue about the events that landed them in the brig of a known spaceship full of marauders. Weaponless, they strategize how they’ll be able to get past the force field that keeps them contained. 

“Run that by me again.” Atlas yawned, propping his arms behind his head. He leaned back and made himself as comfortable as someone could on a hard bench.

Orion groaned with frustration. 

“If you didn’t stop at that flea market on sector two-”

“None of this would have happened… blah blah blah.” He mimicked her frustrated tone and closed his eyes. “We had to stop.” He paused. “I needed to fill up and besides you wanted to trade with some of the locals anyway.” 

Orion’s dark brown hair cascaded around her face as she looked down, rubbing her eyes with her palms. “So, what? You’re saying it was the wrong place at the wrong time? I don’t believe that. Sector two was off our course, and we could have gone a little further-”

“It would have been pushing it. Are you the pilot here or am I missing something?” He quirked an eyebrow and opened one eye, then settled back into his lax position.

“Hey-!” She kicked his boot with her own then stood up. “You’re way too easy going about this whole thing. Aren’t you worried about what they’re going to do with us? What are they planning on doing with our ship?” She paused, her eyes growing wider by the second. “Oh my god, they could steal our ship and make it out to seem like we’re criminals too! Stealing all those supplies for ourselves! The ship’s registered under you, right? And they have it on camera that I was with you… oh my god!”

“Will you slow down and shut up? You’re giving me a migraine.” He muttered the last sentence and shifted himself to the left a little bit so he’d have enough leg room.

“You failing to realize how serious this actually is, is giving me a migraine.” She huffed, and fidgeted with her long hair. She tied it up and blew out a breath. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it? That force field must be giving off heat. I’m sweating.” Her fist knocked on the wall several times. “Hey! Anyone out there? It’s hot in here and I think I’m going to pass out! Hello? Hell-oo!”

Atlas finally stood up and reached over to grab her arm before another mind-splitting bang. He felt her tense in his grasp but he didn’t let go. “We’re lucky they didn’t kill us when they seized our ship. They have a plan for us and that sure is a helluva lot better than being sucked out into space.” He threw her arm away from him, side stepping her and sat back down on the bench. 

“I just have to get out of here.”

Atlas looked up at her and noticed how unsteady she was. Her voice racked with sobs as she mumbled and sunk into the bench opposite from him. She looked so vulnerable. For a philanthropist and nurse who sought out difficult places and people, she really didn’t know how to keep herself together in a time of crisis. Atlas, on the other hand, was a pilot and a good one. One of the youngest pilots to make forty successful supply drops in the span of a year. He needed her as the face, not because he couldn’t do it on his own.

He filled his cheeks with air and blew out a sigh. Atlas shifted his body over and sat his legs on either side of hers, hoping she’d stop her blathering soon. 

“If we wanna get out of here, you have to stop crying.” He tried to say it with a little less disdain but it still came across as annoyance. His eyebrow twitched when she didn’t look at him. “Look, it’s gonna take wits and maybe a little charm on my part.” He smirked and it got her to quiet down a little bit. “But we’ll get out of here and you’ll be the talk of our space station. You gotta trust me.”

“Why should I trust you?” She looked at him now, her eyes puffy from crying. “You didn’t even want to be bothered with this mission. If they didn’t offer the money they did, you wouldn’t have taken it.”

True, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

For effect, he took her hands in his. She didn’t pull away, which surprised him, and he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. 

“Alright, you don’t have to trust me a hundred percent but follow my lead and we’ll get outta here alive. Deal?”

It took a moment but she nodded, and just in time too because the force field opened. There stood a group of five with a haughty looking guy out front. He stuffed his hands into his pockets while the others held their weapons lazily at various angles. 

“Atlas Johansson, Orion Key… let’s have a chat. We have a lot to talk about.” 

written 15 October 2019

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Little Tiny (Thumbelina) Retelling

A very old woman with many years tacked under her belt lived in her house alone and without companionship. Her husband had left her a long time ago when she was unable to give birth to a healthy child. She had tried three times but each time she had given birth they had all been still borns. She wept for each child on the days they were birthed until a fairy came to the aid of the old woman.

"Why are you crying," asked the fairy who had to dodge the old woman's tears because she was so small and the tears came down like rivers to her.

"I cannot bear children, and I would very much like a child of my own. Would you be able to help me?"

The fairy thought about this for a long time for the old woman was just that, old and she may die soon. But the fairy felt bad for the woman and fought through the woman's tears to place a kiss on her cheek and fly towards her ear.

"There is a flower growing in the corn fields across the way, go to it and there you will find your child."

So the woman did just that, but finding no flower that grew in the corn fields. She searched all day and all night, wondering if the fairy had been wrong about the flower. Sitting in the cornfield she wept once again and once the tears fell onto the ground a flower began to break through the surface. The old woman, tired of crying, fell asleep until a rooster crowed at the sign of daybreak. She looked at the flower, amazed at its beauty, and pet the top of the flower which opened to reveal a tiny human an inch in height. He was asleep and the woman old thought he, like her other children, had died because she could not see him breathing. As he awoke to see her crying the woman gasped.

"Mother, why are you crying," asked the young boy.

"I have spent so long wanting a child and here you are, I am crying because you are alive and well, dear boy."

As paranoid as she was, the old woman spent her days in the same room as her new son who she named Tiny because of his size. He was not as pretty as the fairy who had bestowed her with this gift but in her selfishness she figured it was better this way. With her child being ugly, he would stay with her forever and never leave her side. But one night a frog, hell bent on finding some naive boy to marry her warty daughter off to, stole into the house of the old woman and crept into the room where Tiny laid. Perking up her ears like a dog, the old woman caught the frog with one swoop of her hand and stared at her with eyes seeing red.

"What are you doing in my house with that cloth knapsack in hand," asked the old woman, in an angry hushed voice because she didn't want to wake her son.

"I want him for my daughter. She is not pretty and she cannot carry a tune to save her life. None of the other frogs will marry her. I saw your son in the window the night before and I knew he would be perfect for my daughter."

"You cannot have him," said the woman, "I will not let you take him away from me."

The next day the house was filled with an interesting smell. Tiny awoke and whistled for his dog to come bring him into the kitchen. He slide onto the dog's back, grabbing at the hairs and made sure to hold on tight as the two of them trotted into the kitchen to see what the old woman was making.

"Mother, what are you making that smells so good?"

"Frog legs, my dear, it is a delicacy. They will be ready soon wash up and you will have them for your lunch. But first, go out into the garden and find me some honey to put in the stew. The flowers will supply you with what you need."

So with the help of his dog, Tiny went out into the garden to find some honey for his mother. Outside he had come across a cockchafer who was stealing the honey that Tiny needed to bring back inside to his mother.

"Why are you taking our honey," asked Tiny who shouted at the beetles from the top of his dog's head.

The beetles ignored him, laughing and taking more honey then they could ever carry. 

"I said, why are you taking our honey?"

They finally looked back towards the voice and saw nothing but the huge dog. Mouths agape, they wondered were the voice had come from and then they saw him. To them, he was beautiful and they knew they had to have him. 

"Why don't you come down and enjoy this honey with us? We can take you back to where all the cockchafers live and you can eat as much honey as you want. Why spend your life with an old woman who will die before you reach your next birthday?"

"She will not die," said Tiny defiantly, "I am her son and she is my mother. We will always be together." 

"That's right," said another voice, it was the old woman. "Go back inside, Tiny, lunch is ready."

As soon as Tiny had gone back inside with his dog, the old woman pulled her foot back from the ground and stepped on the two beetles. They would not take her son away from her, she would not allow it.

After Tiny and the old woman finished their frog legs and Tiny was completely full, he went outside to enjoy the last hour of daylight. He loved how the sun would bathe the garden in gold as it would go down. There upon the grasses was a field-mouse who was blindly walking towards him. Hopping down from where he was sitting, Tiny moved his hands in front of his face, trying to get the attention of the field-mouse but she wouldn't stop walking. If she went any further she would wind up in the trowel where the horses drank. 

"Wait, field-mouse, don't walk any further!"

"What? Whose there?"

"Tiny, my name is Tiny and if you walk any further you will fall into a trowel of water and drown."

"Nonsense, I know where I am going! I'm blind but I'm not dumb, child."

"I am no child, I am a man!"

"A man, you say? I have been looking for someone to take care of me ever since a farmer swiped at me with his tools rendering me blind. Will you come home with me and be my husband?"

"Husband? I can't be a husband to you, my mother would not like that."

"Doesn't she want you to be happy? We will live in my hole in the ground, and I will bake you the most delicious cakes. Don't you like cakes?"

"I would miss my mother and the sun too much, field-mouse. I cannot marry you."

The field-mouse, pouting made an effort to reach out to him, looking as feeble as ever and then made the decision to fall into his arms. He caught her, feeling bad because she was blind and vowed that he would only take her home and nothing else. Hearing that Tiny was leaving, the old woman ran out of the house but did not catch Tiny in time to make sure he didn't leave her. She wept and wept until the sun went down and then came back up again, but there was still no Tiny.

Tiny had finally gotten to the hole that the field-mouse had lived in but he couldn't just leave her outside the hole. Being kind in nature, he took her inside and placed her in one of the old chairs made from a spindle.

"Such a sweet man, you are. Your mother would be proud."

"I should go back to her now, she will be worried about me."

"Nonsense, my friend Sparrow will take you home when we are done with one of my delicious cakes. Don't you want a delicious cake for all your trouble?"

"Alright, but I will only stay for one bite of the cake and then I shall go back to my mother."

Tiny took the cake in hand when it was offered to him and took one bite, feeling tired and soon enough fell asleep. The field-mouse made up a bed for him and put Tiny in it then locked him in the coldest and darkest part of the hole. When Tiny awoke, as freezing as it was, he looked around to see where he was and screamed. Many like him were crumbled in corners of the room, cold and dead because of the cold. The Sparrow, the one who would have taken him home, was in there as well. Tiny couldn't believe that the poor blind field-mouse would do something like this but he should have remembered that he could never trust anyone aside from his mother.

The old woman cried endlessly, searching for her son but had never found him after that fateful day that the field-mouse had taken him. She died not too long after, still searching for him and coming so close to the hole that held her son. The field-mouse, as deceiving as she was, made the effort to keep Tiny alive as long as she could but he wouldn't comply to taking care of her as long as he was held captive. So she left him in the coldest room to die miserably in his sleep. 

written 18 February 2015

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

No Name Piece

A lofty hammock made for me,

swinging back and forth 

so free

it could really morph

your vision of the world

free from convention

free from this hurled

view, free from retention 

It breaks this mold

more than any other

the feeling of being old

like my poor old brother

Let us feel young 

by this hammock so hung

written 15 April 2015

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Not Just A Bed

The room isn't fully lit but rather pinpricks of stationary light catch the wire that holds it up. Backs of the mirrors glimmer gold and make shapes on the bamboo below. Some say it resembles a dream catcher, warding the bad dreams to stay at bay so the catharsis could embody you completely. 

Go inside.

Your fingers reach to move the cloth that surrounds the structure, a bed if compared to one but it is more than that. It is where we are conceived, birthed, and most likely will die. It is a haven and much more than a bed.

Lay down.

Your body twists into different shapes as you settle against the bamboo which creaks and groans under the weight. It doesn't break but the pressure is lifted when the bamboo cracks. 

Look up.

The mirrors, unsettled by the sudden movements distort your form as they swing with the top part of the bedding. You sigh in awe as the light dances in front of your eyes and everything becomes focused- the hairs from the rope, the shapes of the mirrors, the way the top swings and allows itself to still show the light without distorting it. The moment is peaceful, serene, infinite.   

written 15 April 2015

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

The Call of Childhood

I could've cried seeing you there, 

a replica of a childhood memory

A trunk that twisted together like my once pig-tailed braids,

holding up the masterpiece that was my tree-house

A world I'd imagine as my own

Filled to the brim with sword fights, pirates, enemies and friends

A mythical, magical wonderland

I could've cried seeing you there,

Because of the light that shown so brightly on the inside

ignited my heart

and made me a kid again

written 15 April 2015

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

No Name Piece

She texts me blindly and without the use of contractions but auto-correct fixes that for her. I've seen it before when I would read over her shoulder during one of her fights with her boyfriend. It was a casual glimpse, innocent, but I wouldn't lie in saying I hadn't done it since. Technology erases her feelings in those text messages, making them lesser in meaning and not as raw. It's not like in person where you can erase something in that little box at the bottom of the screen because you think it'll hurt the person. Still she texts me, forcing her finger down on the caps button to get her anger out. I could be right next to her and I'd see her, pounding away on her Iphone, thumbs moving harshly against the touch screen and each letter being pressed without regard that she could be spelling those words completely wrong. Because those mistakes always seem to correct themselves in enough time before the text bar at the top of the phone has the right to announce that it has sent. 

"I DON'T KNOW I'M SO MAD. I SERIOUSLY HATE HIM. I MIGHT JUST FUCKING DUMP HIS ASS. I DON'T DESERVE THIS"

It's about him again. I check my lock screen to see her name pop up with several weird emojis that she put next to her name out of her own amusement. The text message comes out like she's yelling at me through the phone and I didn't catch on quick enough to know the situation. Screen shots along with the text message came in a package deal, one right after another so I would get a gist of the conversation but those lines took precedence over the others. I place my thumb over the circular button at the bottom and my screen comes to life. The text messages and screen shots take over my line of sight without me having to go to my messages. I read it quickly, going over the words in my head and reacting to how she would have wanted me too. Nevertheless I think he's an ass anyway for what he'd just written to her but I say it mostly for her. Because I keep her in check, grounded, or that's what she tells me.

"You don't deserve to be treated like this. You deserve to be treated like a queen with all this crap you put up with. You're his girlfriend, you're not one of his guy friends. He shouldn't be telling you how other girls are "fit" or whatever."

"I don't even want to be treated like a queen I just want to be treated like a person"

"This kind of stuff isn't okay. You're not acting crazy, it's not okay for him to be doing this stupid shit."

I say she's not acting crazy because this always happens. She comes to me either in person or on text, upset over him because he did another thing wrong. Because he's a stupid boy in stupid college who wants to hang out with his stupid friends and smoke all day. He doesn't want to be tied down to his girlfriend but he doesn't want to leaver her either or go on a break. They've been going out for almost two years. I know they'll get married some day.

"I want to go home"

Because we're at school, and she misses her mom and all she feels like doing is crying. I don't blame her because he's an ass and doesn't think but she'll blame it on her period like she always does. You can't be on your period this much in a month.

"I don't blame you."

"I wish I had never met him"

"Boys are fucking stupid."

"Seriously"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to him tonight and see if he's really just fucking retarded or if were done with each other"

"Did you go over there for dinner?"

"Yea I hung out with Amanda Lauren and Molly and the house boys for a while then we got sushi which is begging me to throw it up right now"

"I'm sorry, feel better. But yeah, talking to him in person would probably be the best choice."

Mostly because she starts fights with him over text and they never turn out right but even in person things are either hugged out or swept under the rug. With this situation it'll wind up being the same thing.

"Yea honestly now that I'm less mad I think he's just stupid"

"I don't know, that kinda thing would bother me honestly. Like talk about that shit to your guy friends but not your girlfriend. I saw where you would be mad I mean."

"He's done it before and I told my mom and she said it was good cuz he's not hiding that he looks at other girls or something like that idk. I liked my reply to him cuz I think it finally showed that he's fucking up"

"I mean of course guys look but they shouldn't tell their girlfriends that. That's just a unspoken rule. It's messed up to do something like that because it sounds like you either want some kind of attention or something else. I don't know but I'd kick his ass."

"I dunno. I literally don't care anymore. He wins. I'm broken. I won't care for him any more if that's what he wants."

"I wish there was something I could say for you to not be that way. I can't stand seeing you upset and hearing that you're saying you're broken is something that shouldn't be happening. I'm here for you either way, whatever I can do."

"Thanks. I'll be fine tho. Like we'll talk and then we'll be either back to normal or done."

"I know you'll be fine, you're one of the strongest people I know."

"Lies"

"Eh, you think so but I wouldn't lie to you. You hold it together better than most people I know."

"Lets see how this goes I'm going over now"

"Good luck, let me know if you need a getaway car."

"Thanks love"

"Of course."

She didn't text back for twenty minutes and I busied myself to a point where I barely knew it was that amount of time already. It had gone by so quickly that I thought our back and forth conversation hadn't ended. 

"I can't talk to him, they're all smoking and he's dragging me to a party but it's right across the street so I can just walk home"

"You okay going to a party?"

"You don't understand. I literally do not give a shit about anything right now. I turned off the feels"

"Alright."

And then the inevitable, the phrase I knew that was coming from the start. It's never different, maybe in the wording but not the meaning.

"I'm sorry, I'm being silly" 

written 4 March 2015

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Faceless

She awoke in a bed that was not hers in a house that she couldn't remember. The darkness engulfed her being, swallowing her until she adjusted to it. A small dome shaped light, dimmed by mold and rust, parted the way for her to navigate around the room. The clock on the wall did not look like a clock at all but a circle with numbers. The hands were not there to show face but a faint tick tick tick droned on. Her hands extended into the air, fingers outstretched, feeling around dust covered furniture from a previous era. Thick particles stuck to her digits which made her wince and instantly wipe them off on her clothes. Pajamas from what she could tell but the images on her pants were blurred, unrecognizable. She was pulled out the door by an invisible force. Thick, meaty hands tugging at her waist as if she was some sort of rag doll, then the voices came. Whispers at first, a strong hum and then nothing. Her head whipped around to see where they were coming from by nothing lead to the conclusion that anything was near her. Nothing to her left or right but long hallways that lead to more and more darkness. Cold, she felt cold. Sweat pricked her skin, beading across her brow. She was shivering but sweating, the flight response kicking in. A sharp hiss flooded her ear drums and the sound made her think of air being let out of tires. 

"Judgments, we have no judgments here.

We all look the same, don't you fear.

No eyes, no mouth, no nose, no face,

Without these things, are we still apart of the human race?"

The rhyme started with one, then two and so on and so on. They got faster and faster. Spinning around like a tornado, making her hands claw her throat.

She couldn't breathe.

"It's a dream, just a dream," she mumbled, her voice dry and hoarse.

"If we are dreams, then why do you fear?

We thought you were happy here?

You judge us, but we don't judge you.

Let's see if you have no face too."

The hands were on her cheeks now. They were glowing white like they were being bathed in the moonlight of a cloudless sky. She looked up, seeing the figures without the faces as they looked upon her with no expression- like the clock on the wall that now haunted her with its tick tick tick.

She awoke.

The heaviness of the dream weighed her down but instantly the haze lifted. She felt her face. Smooth, so smooth and she couldn't figure out why. No bumps where the eyes should be, no lumps for a nose. She screamed but there was no sound, just the low hum of the chant repeating over and over. She knew in the back of her mind that something needed to change. She screamed the numbers in her head, closing eyes that she knew weren't in her head and willed herself to mumble an I'm sorry. The voices began to silence, the weight began to dull, and her body began to stir.

written 4 February 2015

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Extending A Scene

Erin slow claps and saunters over to the faded blue couch that’s positioned in front of the TV. She sits on the arm and then falls backward carelessly. Her body makes a weird plopping sound when it hits the couch cushions and she sinks into it like the couch is deflating rapidly around her. She throws an arm casually over her face and exhales loudly for dramatic effect. “You’re killing me, Elliott. Even my charms, wit, and perfect smile can’t win you over anymore. You used to trust my intuitions and sleuthing. I can’t go on. My best friend…” She pauses and removes the arm to look up at the ceiling. “I should just wither away and die in this spot watching my favorite food network program.

“Oh shut up,” I snort while laughing and extend my hand to help her up.

Looking down at her as she reaches for my hand I take a snap shot with my brain and close my eyes. Her face jumps at me behind my eyelids. It plays like a moving picture, capturing the laughter vibrating through her entire body. I start at the top of her head, trailing down from her short widow’s peak to her sunken blue-green eyes that stare up at the speckled popcorn ceiling then at me. A set of laugh lines protrude into that mop of dark boyish cropped hair. Her tiny ears just peak from the bottom of it. Her nose flares and the little bulb at the end along with a small portion of her cheeks, forehead and chin turn a light pink from all of the laughing. I feel the ache in my cheeks from smiling so much and suddenly I’m aware of my own breathing. The warmth in my gut ping pongs around my body and circles back into my stomach. It twists and turns sharply like I’m wringing out a wet hand towel. My left arm curves around my body and I press in my stomach twice for two short bursts to stop the feeling. Her hand clasps in mine and I open my eyes. She’s staring at me with a raised eyebrow and a toothy smile. I examine the small gap between her two front teeth before pulling her up with all of my arm strength. “You know what time it is?” I ask and point to the clock.

“Our favorite time of day.” She replies and springs up next to me. She hooks her arm around my shoulders and I curve mine around her waist. We walk to the door and stand opposite from one another waiting for the rest of the group and staff to bring us down.

written 7 December, 2017

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

“Hi, I’m Elliott.”

“Goodmorning Elliott,” the group responded back in a unison monotone.

“I’m feeling…” I sit up straight in my chair, holding the laminated sheet firmly in my clammy hands. There are over twenty words on this sheet but none of them describe what I’m feeling at this moment. “Um… I guess I’m tired and maybe a little anxious.” I flip the sheet over and follow the script like we do every day. I’m surprised I haven’t memorized it already. “My goal for today is to speak in group because I haven’t been really doing that and uh…the last skill that I practiced was deep breathing.” I hand the sheet to the person sitting to my right and slide down a little in my chair to relax.

There are eleven other kids to get through and I was unfortunate enough to go first. It was only because I was sitting the closest to our group’s leader and head nurse, Kevin. Kevin didn’t look too much older than the rest of us, probably in his late twenties early thirties but he did show signs of balding. Being the head nurse of the young adult wing in an inpatient facility can do that to you. At least I assume that’s why he’s balding considering the amount of chaos this place sees on a daily basis. Wing 6 is a mixed bag of teenage angst and hormonal outbursts. I have been through the muck with them for two full weeks today.

“Are we celebrating your two week anniversary of padded cells, strait jackets, and mashed potato meals tonight? I bet they’d even make you a cake,” the voice behind me whispered as they squeezed my shoulders with their slender fingers.

“Golly-gee Erin, you remembered,” I replied with sarcasm and a smile, my signature.

“Ladies, you’re interrupting Molly who was just about to tell us her goal for the day,” Kevin reminded us with one of his parental glares.

“Sorry Kev, its Elliott’s two week anni today! And I promised her the full Wing 6 treatment with balloons, cake… you know the works,” Erin replied expressively using her hands to map out the scene.

I couldn’t help but laugh. I met Erin on my first day in the lounge of the facility. She saw a stuffed animal in my luggage and commented that she had the same one at home. It was a red panda that I got from the Bronx Zoo when I was a kid. Then she proceeded to tell me that we couldn’t have stuffed animals because people hid drugs and other things in there that weren’t allowed in the program. Bandit the panda, alongside my shoe laces, hoodie and pants strings, razor and floss reside in a locker with a printed name tag until I claim them when I leave this place.

“Can I finish,” Molly asked with an audible sigh and an eye-roll.

If eye-rolls could kill, Molly would have a warrant out for her arrest.

The pacing picked up after that which was good because my stomach was growling loud enough for Erin to hear. She pats her own stomach and pouts like a child. I laugh again. Looking behind me to see the clock at the nurse’s station I squint my eyes to read it: 9:30am. A half hour until breakfast was torture. I turn back around and half listen to Kevin ask the group if we had any complaints concerning the group itself or cleaning issues. Molly raises her hand instantly and stands up to face the group with her arms folded.

“I’m saying this again because it’s super gross but whoever is leaving the tables sticky with juice in the morning and afternoon needs to clean up after themselves. I’m tired of getting stuck to the tables when I’m playing cards.”

Boyish giggles erupt in the back of the room. They high five each other and make lewd gestures with odd hand signals.

Boys are so weird.

“Thank you Molly, I’ll be sure to keep my eye on that,” Kevin replies and clicks his pen against his clipboard to write the complaint down. He looks down at his wristwatch, rubs his balding head with the other hand, and then looks back up at the group. “Half hour until breakfast, you know the drill. Line up five minutes before in front of the door and one of the staff will take you down to the cafeteria.”

We all stand up, pushing the chairs back to their normal resting places. Erin hooks an arm around my neck and pulls me in tight.

“You’ve made it two weeks in this hell hole, El. I’m the proudest mom out there.”

“Oh cut it out,” I roll my eyes and tickle her sides. She lets me go.

“Hey, I’m allowed to gush about your success. You’ve made it through the 48 debacle after your break down your first week, stayed in the program, and even opened up in group a little. It’s progress,” she stands in front of me, pinching my chubby cheeks like my aunt does on Christmas Eve.

I let out a dramatic sigh. She grins and pulls me in for a tight hug. I’m not much of a hugger but Erin became like another appendage to me in here. Her bubbly personality, positive attitude and overall sarcastic demeanor would never clue you into the fact that she’s been in and out of inpatient facilities since she was nine. The only clue on the surface you have is her bandaged arms from her last attempt. I’m not going to lie to you; I looked at them constantly the first time we met. She doesn’t talk about it, not even to me, but I know this last time was really bad. Erin pulls back and puts her hands on my shoulders. I relax a little and she shines her toothy grin at me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you, I’m looking past you.” Her whole face is bright with an ‘I know something you don’t know’ look.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on I’m kicking you out of our group for spades tonight.”

She feigns hurt and pouts like a four year old. “How dare you! You know I’m always the best at counting books. You need me!”

“I need a partner who isn’t going to keep secrets from me.” I step back and fold my arms across my chest but it’s hard to keep a straight face in front of her.

“Okay okay! You’re no fun, El.” She responds with a defeated tone and pulls me in close. Her hot breath smells like an odd mixture of grape juice and toothpaste. “We have someone new coming in today. I heard Kevin talk to the other nurses about it. He’ll be in 5a with Jack.”

“That sucks for him, Jack’s an asshole.”

“You don’t understand my point.” She blows out a frustrated sigh and continues, “He’ll be the first one to join the group since you got here.”

“Sounds like a shitty situation if you ask me.” I rub my temples with my thumbs. “I really don’t get why you’re so excited about this. He’ll join the league of assholes…probably cause mayhem. I don’t have high hopes. I mean Jack’s old roommate got kicked out from the program because he was sleeping with Molly. And Molly’s family has money so she wouldn’t be able to leave. In the end it was inevitable for Jack to get another roommate. Two plus two equals four. Voila!”

Erin slow claps and saunters over to the couch. Sitting on the arm she falls back and puts her right arm over her face for dramatic effect. “You’re killing me, Elliott. Even my charms, wit, and perfect smile can’t win you over anymore. You used to trust my intuitions and sleuthing. I can’t go on. My best friend… I should just wither away and die in this spot watching my favorite food network program.”

“Oh shut up!” I snort while laughing and extend my hand to help her up. I point to the clock. “You know what time it is?”

“Our favorite time of the day,” she takes my hand, pulling herself off the couch and springs up next to me. She puts her arm over my shoulders and I put mine around her waist. We walk to the door and stand opposite from one another waiting for the rest of the group and staff to bring us down.

The alarm sounds and a code blasts over the intercom. I plug my ears and brace myself against the wall. Several male nurses run out the doors quicker than I can even grasp what is going on. Code Yellow; someone is trying to escape.  

written 11, November 2017

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Dreams

Unlock the unconscious

Flood the mind with memories

Twist the story with TV shows and movies

Your own personal nightmare

Panic, distress, anxiety

Your body paralyzed 

Shut it down

Like a video game

Control alt delete

To the home page

Where the scene goes black

And you can see the backs of your eyelids 

You're awake again

written 25, November 2013

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Wreck This Journal

This is the time to be defiant

Defacing literature for the first time in history

There are instructions interpreted loosely

Require you to get down and dirty

Without suffering a library charge

They say it's a right of passage

I think of it as a voice

A tangible object that I can go back to

Doodles, ugly drawings, terrible pictures

Scratching, clawing, biting, burning

My own personal punching bag

Concealed in a paper back

All thanks to Keri Smith

written 25, November 2013

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

The Heart

Unlock the box your heart encased,

where it can be shown to all around.

Open the door to the secrets beyond,

where no darkness lurks and none can be found.

When the world closes in, 

and you can't breathe,

open your heart to the possibilities that can be seen.

It's easy enough when the heart is open,

to the greater parts of which it is made for.

But when the heart is closed,

it fears for it's life in blankets of darkness.

Unlock the box your heart encased,

so it could be laced,

with a love without waste.

Open the door to the bound secrets,

of honesty,trust and faith.

Because the darkness cannot fight,

when your heart is towards the skies fine light.

Your heart is your shield,

something that is bound to the soul.

Unable to be conquered by the darkness' control.

Unless you are not strong enough to open your heart.

To keep it long enough for the warmth to shine through.

If that is the case, 

it's just a complete waste.

Don't let the heart be filled with the darkness of mistrust and apathy.

Don't let it be fooled into the darkness' tricks.

Be stronger than that and let the heart grow in hope and love.

It is the only medicine to cure the lack of happiness.

written 9, September 2010

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

I think I have.. - My Revision

Confidence

(but only on days

when I don’t look

in the mirror or stare

at my reflection)

Self Esteem

(only when my family

forgets I am there,

lets me disappear

into the background)

Beauty

(only when-what am

I saying..)

Forgive me Father for I have sinned,

the monsters seemed to have taken over my brain.

I

can’t stop the darkness from engulfing me.

Wish

for the greater good to stop it in its tracks.

For-

give me and give me my

Sanity

before it is too late.

written unknown

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Tricks

It is taking over my life.

The

need and desire to be perfect.

Monsters

are feeding on the sorrows in my brain.

Are

they haunting me because they can?

Inside

I feel powerless and distraught everyday.

My

life is going downhill so fast I can’t stop it.

I want to stop the pain in my

Heart. 

written unknown

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

It was just

One night, that was all. One night of craziness. One night to let it all hang on the wire. One night of boozed up, sweaty persons dancing in the gleam of the moonlight. Sweat dripping, mixing, to form one whole. Red cups filled to the brim of Yuengling and washed down with red stag. 

His mouth,

eccentric, passionate,

filled with an exception of a sultry high.

His tongue filled my mouth,

and encircled around my tongue,

writing our names in time with the pitter patter of our hearts. 

His arms,

engulfed me,

held me like a predator.

I felt safe, warm, protected.

He whispered those words with hot breath in my ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I felt on top of the world.

Wanted. Needed. Most of all attractive.

But it was only one night.

One night of craziness.

One night to let it all hang out on the wire. 

written unknown

BA Mikulak

[theperksofwritersblock]

Forget but never regret

It’s

a different type of 

breathing. Keeping

your sanity away 

from the monsters

that shelter your

mind.

—

My

thoughts race,

pulse quickens.

Easy does it or

the pressure will

push down on your

lungs, tug at your

rib cage, seize the

heart like a tight 

embrace.

—

I have a 

Choice

to keep in the pain,

sharpen the senses

release the endorphins

not produced in the brain.

Vision blurs, I can’t hold 

on. Forfeit the life, fulfill

the promise, prepare for

the  e  n  d. 

written unknown

BA Mikulak