The Storm

She angrily ran away from the house, away from her parents, away from everything in the dark of the night. She ran and ran and ran, nonstop. Past the alley, and the Bakersfield’s home, she ran so far but it all went unnoticed by her. All she could hear about was the news her parents just told her. A divorce, they were getting a divorce. They were getting a divorce and her and her mom was moving out of the house, out of town, away from her father, her friends and everything she knew. How could they do this to her? She thought to herself. She felt so hurt and betrayed. A divorce?! She came to a screeching stop as her body finally gave in and collapsed, falling to the ground. Her body shook so hard as she sobbed, her hand tightened into fists and her knuckled slowly started to turn white from the force of it. She pounded the ground with her fist. She wanted to hit something, she wanted to hit anything. Slowly she started to calm down, realizing she had no idea where she was anymore. She looked around at her surroundings. The smell of damp ground assaulted her senses. There were trees everywhere, she must have run into the forests of the park nearby, but which way did she come from? She slowly stood, brushing the dirt from her clothes. Her nose began to burn from the ice cold air, turning read and angry. She wrapped her arms around herself needing some kind of warmth as she looked around puzzled. She had to find her way home, if only she knew. She sniffled gently and reached up wiping what was left of her tears away from her ice cold skin. Suddenly she felt another trickle, and then another. She furrowed her eyebrows as she realized these were tears. She looked upward and suddenly the heavens opened and the rain fell by the gallons. The cold water hurt her skin.  In that moment she felt so helpless. Suddenly the winds started blowing, making her frame shake. She had to get out of there. She started to walk, and slowly her walk became and jog and then a full on run. She pushed the branches out of her way, hisses as they scraped and starched her delicate skin. Her eyes couldn’t seem to focus, with the rain and wind everything in her eyesight seemed to be shaking violently. Suddenly her foot was caught in a root and she came stumbling down to the ground making her whole body feel like it had shattered like a piece of delicate glass. She wanted to give up and just lay there. Maybe someone would come along, maybe someone would find her. No, she thought to herself, she had to keep going, keep moving. So she did. She pushed herself up and with what strength she had left she ran. She had to get back. Get back home.

The Girl

David’s trash bin sat to the side of the room, isolated from everything else, so much like himself. Inside it was littered with things, many different things from his life. Like the Red Bull cans left over from his long nights of work. Join them were several bottles of water and an empty bottle of vitamins, as well as last weeks newspapers. He always liked to have read material for his downtime. One of his favorite things to do is to lie out in front of his fire place and read. His love of reading came second to his love of art. Crumbled up pieces of paper occupied plenty of space in the trash bin. His sketches, his “not good enough to ever see the light of day,” sketches. He would sit in this room, letting the dark devour him, and sketch. And then crumble it all up and throw it away. They were a part of him and he could never let anybody that close. There were sketches of animals and objects, dark violent skies and beautiful open fields.  But the bulk of his rejected sketches contained one thing. The girl. It was always the same beautiful, petite, blonde girl. The one that constantly filled his head, clouding his mind of anything else but herself.  There were sketched of just her with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. Then there were some of the two of them, wrapped in a warm embrace, lying together post-coital with the most peaceful expressions on their faces.  The most intense was of her staring up at him and him doing the same, both with never-ending love shining from their eyes. Oh, how he must miss her.

The Blood In Her Veins

            The woman sat proudly with her small daughter in her lap as they watched the parade pass through the street of their small town. It brought a unique smile to her face as she watched her culture, their culture, be put proudly on display. It was a yearly event and sadly this would be the last for her and her family. Her husband had left to America many months to find work and now he was finally sending for the family. They would be leaving first thing in the morning. While she was glad that her family would have the opportunity for a great life in a great country, she was sad that her young daughter would miss out on growing up in a village with such pride and strong culture. She regrets that her daughter will not have the opportunity to have the wisdom of the elders in town to guide her and tell her stories of older times. Most likely growing up in America, she will assimilate with the rest of the population and with that will lose some of that pride and culture. But at least she will be there with the girl, to be a guiding influence and to remind her of whom she is and where she comes from. To remind her of the strong and ancient blood that runs through her veins. She will be there to tell the girl stories of her own childhood and stories of her homeland, history and fables. She will teach her to be proud of her heritage, because that is what makes her beautiful and strong. And one day, she has faith, that her daughter will make the trip back to their small village, their real home, and see it all for herself.