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    01-16-2021 06:59 PM
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    Recent Entries

    One Hundred Thirty

    by lucyoncolorado on 12-14-2020 at 11:11 PM
    In which Lucy and I see aliens attack...

    We're upstairs at night. Lucy is looking out her side window. She barks and bounces for my attention. I come and sit on the ottoman to see. Over the strait, I see what looks like a falling star. When it gets close to the water, the sky lights up with a series of flash bombs. Then I see the silhouette of a stealth bomber, back lit from the explosions; a sonic boom from above shakes my house. The aliens have invaded, and the US military is at war with them. Finally, I tell Lucy, something is happening which will end all of this and allow for the possibility of an afterwards.

    One Hundred Twenty Nine

    by lucyoncolorado on 12-02-2020 at 07:21 PM
    In which we attend R's dad's wake...

    R and I drive a white van up a treeless green hill with mountains in distance. We arrive at a Swiss chalet style building with a large parking lot. A man in a suit greets us and takes us into a foyer where a clerk behind a counter has us sign a registry. She asks us some questions and places a neon green visitor's sticker on our shirts.

    We walk down the hall towards a glass partition with a sliding door that leads out to a terrace. Outside, there are several raised rectangular platforms, and R's dad's shrouded body rests on one of them. There are no benches or chairs. We see V sitting on the ground beside their dad's body. Their dad is also there. He's healthy. He's wearing his glasses and a green and brown woolen sweater with his collar cuffed neatly over the neckline. He smiles at us and waves us over. We sit next to V but their dad continues to stand. All four of us look at the shrouded body.

    More people arrive. People walk around and chat with each other. I don't know most of the people. After some time, I exit the terrace through the glass wall and walk back down the foyer. I run into a blonde man who knows me but I don't know him. He is just finishing with the clerk and placing his visitor's sticker on his shirt.

    He greets me and asks about the wake. I tell him that everything is very peaceful and that R's dad is also there. He tells me that this happens sometimes, that some people believe if you attend your own wake, you must be a ghost, but he's not sure what he believes. This surprises me since I had not thought about R's dad being a ghost. I tell him that I am surprised by this though it makes sense. He says that it might not be true, no one knows for sure. He asks me what R or V thought about it, and I realized I didn't mention it to them.

    Updated 12-02-2020 at 07:29 PM by lucyoncolorado


    One Hundred Twenty Eight

    by lucyoncolorado on 12-02-2020 at 07:02 PM
    In which I have a tiny man in a matchbox...

    I'm screwing a hanging hook into the dry wall. I miss the stud so the hook falls out, leaving a dusty hole in the wall. A beam of light shines through, and I put my eye up to the hole to peer in. I see a man running desperately towards me as a large orb of light moves across the sky chasing him, like the plane after Cary Grant in North By Northwest. I cup my palm beneath the hole and the man leaps into it. I slam my other hand against the hole, blocking the orb. The tiny man is safe!

    I place him in a matchbox with some tissue paper and bread crumbs. I bend down close to him to hear his story, but his voice is too small. I speak to him, but the sound waves blow him backwards off his feet. He puts his hands over his ears and doubles over in pain. I must figure out how to feed him, water him, keep him warm, communicate with him. Suddenly it all seems like such a chore. I consider squishing him like an ant and then remind myself that though he's ant-sized, he's still actually a human being. What a burden!

    In which I have a new job as a nanny...

    I'm wearing baggy pants. The kids are elementary aged and we are in a large stylish upper middle class house. They are in a basement playroom, chasing each another around a faux bamboo bar that looks like it hasn't been used in years for anything other than storing Amazon boxes. I'm bored with the game but attempting to appear engaged. I'm aware of the nanny cams watching me. I must seem patient and friendly.

    My pants keep falling down. I hide behind the bar out of sight of the camera and pull them up. I try to tuck them into my underwear to make them stay. Every time I take a step, they fall again. I reach for a blanket on the play room couch and wrap it around my body like it's a toga. My pants fall to my ankles, but I'm covered now in the blanket. The kids' mom comes down the stairs and sees me. "We're playing frat house," I tell her. She disapproves. But here we are, basement bar, bratty kids, toga...

    One Hundred Twenty Seven

    by lucyoncolorado on 07-09-2020 at 07:05 PM
    In which I have several short dreams...

    One - Lucy has turned into a sun bear. She doesn't seem to mind.

    Two - Lucy and I are walking down the ramp into town. There is a small black bear picking blackberries off the vines growing over the railing. We must edge past it without scaring it. I'm more than a little scared, but it does not occur to me to turn around. I drag Lucy past.

    Three - I'm on a visit. N is there. We argue about the upcoming election. It's tedious. She's smug and infuriating. I feel rage.

    One Hundred Twenty Six

    by lucyoncolorado on 02-02-2020 at 08:42 PM

    In which I mustn't interfere with the horrors of nature...

    There's a discarded porcelain basin sitting among tall grass in an abandoned lot, frequently used for dumping, near my house. From afar, I can see that it's heavy with a deep sink and a large ribbed area for drying dishes. I move closer to inspect if it's cracked. And I see a bundle wrapped in a blanket.

    I pull on the edge of a blanket and reveal an infant inside, dead, with a dog leash wrapped around its neck. I untie the leash, toss it aside and pick up the body.

    Back in my own house, I show it to my mother. She already knows about it, she explained, and if I don't want to get wrapped up in this, I best return the body to where I found it and replace the leash in exactly the same way.

    I return to the empty lot, walk over to the basin again, only this time the leash is now wrapped around the neck of a second swaddled infant. This time the baby is still alive, but struggling, gasping for air.

    I know that I'm not supposed to intervene. I'm like a nature photographer, filming a hyena eating a struggling gazelle. This is just how things are. I shouldn't have come here in the first place. I shouldn't have interfered. I need to put things back exactly as they were.

    I set the struggling baby aside in the grass. I replace the dead one in the basin where I found it. Only I realize that the leash is now on the struggling baby's neck. I reach into my pocket and pull out one of Lucy's leashes and I wrap it around the dead baby's neck.

    I walk away, leaving both of them in the field.

    When I get home, I tell my mother what I've done. She says I'm a fool for using Lucy's leash- now it can be traced back to me. The authorities will think that I strangled the dead baby. I realize she is correct.

    I return to the field a third time. I remove Lucy's leash from the neck of the dead baby in the basin neck. I remove the first leash from the neck of the struggling baby in the grass. Now relieved, the baby starts to cry. I replace the first leash around the neck of the dead baby, wrapping it tight. Then I wrap the body back up in the blanket and place its in the basin.

    Then I turn to look at the struggling baby, crying and gasping in the grass. I turn around and start to walk back home, leaving the baby there. The baby will die, probably in the night, and that will be it.

    All I can think of is what each moment must feel like. The baby is cold. The baby is suffering, second by second, gasping for air, hungry. I think of the gazelle, feeling the hyena rip its flesh.

    I go back to the field a fourth time. The infant is now a few months old. I see it's a little girl. I pick her up, and she stops crying. I can see the marks on her neck from the leash that strangled her, but she appears fine. She has curly strawberry hair. I take her home.

    I wonder if she'll be brain damaged. I give her a glass of milk and string cheese. She smiles. I feel immensely guilty, horrified with myself. How could I have left her there in the first place?

    I'm suddenly incredibly stressed by this question. How did I leave a struggling infant alone in a field? I try to think of the logic behind it. There was some reason. I can't think of what it is. I'm suddenly terrified. How will I explain this to anyone? What will I do with this child? Could I really be such a terrible person as to go home and leave her there alone to die?

    The anxiety wakes me up.

    Updated 02-02-2020 at 08:46 PM by lucyoncolorado