A Girl Downtown. 6 P.M. “FUCK THIS!” As her scream tore her throat apart, she swung her baseball bat as hard as she could, bringing it down on the mailbox. The metal frame bent under the impact, dented. She took another swing, and another, and the bat slipped from her hands. Her throat burned, there is a fire in her lungs and hot tears were running down her face. She looked at the mailbox with murder in her eyes, the pathetic and now shapeless metal seemed to cower under her glare. Her blood was poundin g in her ears, she picked up her headset and let the music drown the sound of her body. When she crouched to pick up her bat, she caught a glance of herself in the mailbox, and with an ultimate swing she crushed what was left of it. Behind her, a man just came out of his home. He has a phone pressed against his ear and is clearly describing the scene. Suddenly realizing, she starts sprinting down the boulevard. Her hair is shining in the golden afternoon sun and her tears catch the light as they fall to th e ground. She can feel her lungs burning up from the inside but she cannot stop running. Down and down the boulevard she runs, all the while the sun and the fire are eating her alive. Short of breath, she stops at the crossroads. On her left, the path home , back whence she came from. On her right, the road that leads downtown. 9 P.M Her whole body is burning up now, and the tears won’t stop. All around her she can feel their gaze, glossing over her, unaware and indifferent to the blaze that is consuming he r whole essence. Music is still pounding against her eardrums; she can feel it resonate within her as it isolates her from the rest of the world. She sought refuge in sound and in the shade of the skyscrapers. All around her, a forest of building stretched all the way up, almost touching at the top. Dark glass and cold iron were blocking out the sky and keeping her in the shadows. Colorful lights illuminated the streets as the scorching summer sun was setting beneath the horizon, slowly sinking and sparing her its infernal heat. With each passing second, another light flared up and the fire within her seemed to settle, like a sea of flames after an incredibly violent storm. She could still feel it eating away at her soul, but the soothing lights eased her pa in. Suddenly, the tears stopped. She was empty. She snatched her headset from her ears and turned off her music. Her hair was messy and falling in front of her eyes, she pushed it away and looked at her hands. Dirty, grotesque, she tightened her grip on th e bat and put her left hand away quickly. Her headphones thrown around her neck, she followed the lighted path. 10 P.M. The deeper she went into the concrete forest; the more lights illuminated her path. Blue lights and red lights and green lights lit up her face when she approached the bar. She took a step inside and looked over at the bartender. She pointed at what she wanted on the small card he brought her and she drank in silence. All around her, noisy crowds were shouting their love to the night sky and red faces were blurred together in a daze. She held herself tight and let the place envelop her in its embrace as she closed her eyes. 11 P.M. She could feel the trickle of blood running from the top of her head. Her grip was tight around her bat but she knew she shouldn’t use it. He’s just standing there, smirking while the whole world watches. She chances a glance at the bartender and she sees her eyes pleading her to stand down. As if. With a mighty swing she bashed the side of the man who threw h er to the ground and without waiting for him to get back up she made a bolt for the door. She could feel their hands gripping and tearing at her clothes. Her heart sunk when someone managed to get a good hold, but she managed to slip out of her hoodie and run out the door. Her shirt felt light, pressed against her skin by wind and sweat, and her bat felt heavy in her hand. Midnight. She could still feel the steel stretching to the sky on either side of her. Without her headphones she could almost hear the metal screaming under its own weight. Tall as they are, they still collapse, she thought. Her lungs were gone, devoured by the fire that was now getting at her heart. She didn’t know how long she had left. Behind her, a trail of tears drew the outline of the river her heart was crying out. She turns her head and a gust of wind whips at her face. In the deserted alleyway, she could see a pale pink light dancing in the distance. The pink puddle seemed to call out to her as she got closer, and suddenly, it di sappeared. She looked around and saw it reappear further down. She chased after it and found herself in another alley, the buildings were getting smaller and the walls were closing in around her, but she kept going. The lights were dancing, this way and th at, swaying in front of her eyes, swinging and switching from pink to red and purple, warm and soft. Down the path, she found herself in a tunnel. The lights were guiding her deeper and deeper within the earth and as the air around her warmed up she coul d feel the circle of flames around her heart resorb itself. She jogged after the light and found herself at the end of the tunnel. 2 A.M. She had spent hours walking around the spacious room at the end of the tunnel. An opening way above her head let the delicate moonlight flood the place in its pale light and it painted the walls with puddles of milk that highly contrasted the dark stone. There were weeds and flowers growing on the floor of the cave and water trickled down the walls. There was one spot sh e had been avoiding. Directly across the room from her, water was running down a glossy stone wall that reflected back a darker image of the cave. The stone was perfectly smooth and she could see her own reflection looking back at her when she chanced a gl ance, like a darker, tinted and tainted version of herself. The pink lights were still dancing around the room, converging around the stone mirror. 3 A.M. The flames were back again, more infernal than ever before, and her heart wasn’t going to hold much longer. Slumped against the wall, she could feel her own gaze taunting her from the other side of the room. Her reflection, eyes glowing like the devil’s was smiling as tears were rolling down her cheeks. She could hear it whisper at times, and scream at o thers. It was never soft, never happy, never gentle nor kind nor just. The lights had settled around her in small pink puddles that moved along the floor. They circled her and seemed to seek her hands. She opened her arms and let one of them brush against her fingertips. Her heart was almost entirely spent and she contemplated the cave one last time. A soft breeze was descending from the heavens above to play with the blades of grass and tangle her hair as the moon shone its last light through the hole in t he ceiling. 4 A.M. She could hear it. Faded, buzzing far in the distance. All the other sounds were forcing it to go under, to drown. Whispers and shouts tried to silence it. Her throat is dry, she can’t talk. The embers of her heart lay still, waiting for their last moments of heat to die. She could hear it still. Stronger than before maybe. She lifted her head drowsily and looked at herself on the other side of the room. She could see her mouth moving, whispering, shouting in her own ears. It’s down th ere somewhere. She shuffled her hands around and finally found the origin of the noise. Her headphones were still playing. She put them on and let music wash over her. Noise like never before rushed past her ears, blowing away the whispers and the shouts. She couldn’t hear anything else but the beating of the drums, the cry of the guitars. And she screamed. And she screamed until her throat felt bloody and she couldn’t stand it anymore. And when she was done screaming, she stood. Her shriek, she could see, had cracked the mirror. She seized her bat and made her way across the room. Her steps were beating the ground with all the strength she had left in her. Carried away by the sound in her ears she watched herself get closer to the grotesque figure in the st one mirror. Its smile was cruel and twisted and its barred teeth looked hideous. Pointed ears and cruel eyes, her demons were staring at her. She took a deep breath and so did they. The pink lights were floating around her head, basking her in their light while the demons were still shrouded in darkness. One foot back, she anchored herself to the ground. She breathed again and this time the light was in her chest. She could feel the embers of her heart struggling to ignite. She took another breath. And ano ther, and they grew brighter. She locked eyes with her reflection. She could feel it from the instant her nervous system fired the first electrical signal to her arm. She felt her grip tighten around the bat as she brought it back all the way behind her head. Slowly. Very slowly. As though she was accumulating all of the strength in the whole world. The bat was heavy, deadly, humming with the energy of a lifetime. And she swung. What a powerful swing. The air was fizzling around the bat, piercing the silent veil that had fallen over the cave. She felt it push back every single atom between itself and its target. An unstoppable force. Sparks were flying all around her and one of those fell on her chest, setting her heart ablaze. The light was so intense that the whole tunnel came alive with a fierce fiery flare. And the bat caught fire and she finally saw the face in the mirror more clearly by the light of her own heart. It wasn’t her. But it was scared and it was desperate, and then, it was gone. The w hole wall gave way under her strike, and she felt the wood splinter and shatter in her hands. Stones rained down on her in a marvelous and terrible and mighty roar, and she roared back. 6 A.M. She followed the blue lights from behind the wall and found herself back out. Morning dew was hanging from every leaf and every blade of grass, and in the distance, she could see the clouds cracking open to reveal the first lights of dawn. Slowly, she made her way back downtown. Bleeding Hearts “Do you ever feel like there is no place for you in the world?” Her words were hastily carried off by the wind as he laid breathless at her side. “How do you mean?” He asked in a whisper. The starry night illuminated the pasture all around them as the zephyr played wi th grass blades, waves after waves of green washing over them as they laid on their back, their heads almost touching. “Don’t you ever feel like you’re the key to a lock that doesn’t exist? Or that doesn’t need opening?” She spoke in a soft and innocent voice, her words ringing like crystal in the clear night before being swept away by the wind. Time hung and swung from her every word, suspended, awry, messed up. “I don’t know.” He was being honest, but he continued, “Does it matter?” Silence fell between them. High up in the sky, the twinkling and blinking stars were letting out a cry of anguish, a great and silent wail. “Have you found your answer?” she asked after some time. “Yeah. It does matter.” “I don’t think there is a place for me in the world.” S he said, breathing heavily. All around them, the meadows were dancing under the night sky. Eddies of leafy green grass were swirling and swerving and twirling and whirling with the wind, carrying them away. “I don’t reckon there is a place in the world for me either.” His heart was aching even more now. From the corner of his eye, he could see her struggling and fighting back tears. High above them, the stars started crying. “It’s a meteor shower...” His breath was shallower than ever, tears in his eyes were making it more and more difficult to keep track of the blazing trails of light striding the sky. Higher still, a red star started crying. A crimson teardrop plummeted from the sky and fell between them. He turned his head in an ultimate effort t o look at her and saw the river streaming from her heart. Blood was oozing from the small hole in her chest and came cascading down her side. He watched her as his own heart bled out and their rivers ran dry. Strange Reflection I can see you, drifting in and out of my sight, beneath the surface. What are you? Features of this face that I know so well, soft mirage, delicate shape of a figure I know nothing of. Why evade me, when I yearn for you to linger? You sink and vanish behind a vapor cloud; you shy aw ay when I meet your gaze . My heart calls out to you. I want your face; I want your eyes. I see your skin ; I steal your lips. I want your plump cheeks and pretty chin, your eyebrows and your forehead. My strange reflection, I want you for myself C ome out, break out from behind the glass and let me finally embrace my own face. Armor - clad Soap Bubble I’m an armor - clad soap bubble. Head’s up, visor down, no one can see me. A piece of metal, ringing hollow. I’m strong as steel, soft as marshmallow. Cold, cold plates cover m y face, conceal my chest, hide my legs away I touch you and I burst, I die with or without you. I’m an armor - clad soap bubble. Protect me from the world. An arrow couldn’t pierce my armor, the sharpest sword made of the strongest steel couldn’t slice me, no mass, morning star, club or hammer could dent, damage or destroy my den. I cower in the dark under the moon, head’s up, visor down, I can’t see anyone. Send me an army and I’ll outlive them. Send me your gods and s end me your devils, they could not crack my metal body. But send me your words, or better yet I’ll send mine, and you’ll see how, in front of the whole world, I die. I’m an armor - clad soap bubble, if I don’t die at your hands, I’ll die at the sound of you r voice, I’ll die at the sound of mine. One day I’ll burst and what will be left behind? A hollow shell of regrets, standing and laughing and talking out of habit. I’m an armor - clad soap bubble, what protects me will be my downfall. Every breath I take, I inch closer to death. For every laugh, every smile and every tear bring the walls closer. When then, I will be too weak or too weary to push them back, when my hands and my feet will be too worn out, when I run out, I’ll burst, stifled, crushed as I crumb le under the weight of my own armor. I’ll laugh while I live, knowing what it implies. I stand alone, a laughing puppet, amused by my demise. Perhaps one day when the sun shines and the wind blows softly, I will leave behind my metal body, drift away and never return. Free at last. But until then I remain. I’m an armor - clad soap bubble.