Writing Winner, January

Congratulations to Emily Schulman, winner of our “Illusion and Fantasy” Writing Contest.*

And thanks to all those who entered the contest. Take a look below at Emily’s winning entry and at some of the other work entered in our January contest.

*As Emily is on staff at Labyrinth and to avoid prejudice in our choice of a winner, we had Mr. Joria, T.C.’s head librarian, and his staff judge our writing contest.

“Dreamer 201″

by Emily Schulman

Sometimes I couldn’t tell what was a dream and what was real. I used to be able to tell. They used to be worse at hiding the imperfections and keeping me from remembering.

But when I woke up in that alcove and felt the stark absence of Violet’s mind I knew that something was wrong. It might have been that it was a dream but Violet’s voice wasn’t one I could hear and I could always hear her voice even through the perpetual rain. That was more important.

I sat up and moved out of my alcove in an attempt to find her like moving around would help. I eased onto the platform and stood up. The platform was a bit like a balcony and a bit like a walkway and was too narrow for comfort, but I couldn’t think inside of that alcove. There was only enough room to sleep, not even enough room to sit up. What would I need with something other than sleep? The dream was life.

But I had Violet.

I used to have Violet.

A voice rushed through me, becoming part of my thoughts.

Dreamer two-oh-one. Come with me.

I looked up, startled. Someone had come up and I hadn’t noticed. Someone had gotten two feet away from me and I hadn’t noticed. The feeling of something being wrong intensified and my fingers tapped the seams of my loose pants. It was still easy for me to frame the thoughts I wanted the other dreamer to hear.

Where are you taking me?

Away. There are consequences for your actions.

What did you do with Violet?

Come with me.

What did you do with her?

I didn’t sound angry. It was hard to feel anything strong in the Dreamer Place where everything was washed out in gray scale, but my words were as calm as the minds of those dreaming. It was as if I were noting something about the weather which was always rain to keep us from picking up thoughts they didn’t want us to. Except—

It is two miles to your city spire. You need to start moving soon. Wouldn’t want you to get caught by a patrol, hmm?

I nodded, keeping the harsh, cutting thoughts at the back of my mind.

Not nice thoughts, two-oh-one. A bit too confident for someone who hasn’t followed yet.

I did fall. I did.

But with Violet’s help. I had never been able to trust the dream state like she had and I couldn’t find her through the rain and something was wrong and—

And that was what was wrong, hitting me in the face. Sunlight streamed through the large windows. I could see to the smudge of mist that surrounded the city spire I had come from. It was wrong; it never stopped raining there.

The glass of the windows exploded inwards, covering me with cuts that felt too real for it to be a dream as I covered my face with my hands and—

I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart beating faster than I thought was possible. It had been a week since I had left and there were still the dreams. They still had traces of the thoughts of the other dreamers even though I was miles away from them. I ran a hand through my hair. It needed a cut but I was still too spacey to cut it myself and my mother didn’t have time.

I swung one leg out from under the tangled covers and was in the process of getting out of bed when a flash hit me.

Ready or not, here I come!

I could feel Violet’s mind at the edge of mine, even with the medication. We were that close even before the fall of wood smoke and things were the same as they had ever been. I would pick the easiest hiding spot and she would close her eyes and find me with that smile. And she was always the better dreamer.

There was a knock on the door and I was back in my beige room. I focused on the door as my vision cleared. The flashes had come back since I had left the Dreamer Place. The stability of other dreamers kept the memories in place but there wasn’t a safety net out here. They were treatable but I was on enough medication as it was to keep me from picking up too much from other people’s minds and I preferred memories to the cold of a lonely mind.

“Come in,” I said.

The words were foreign. No one spoke in the Dreamer Place unless they had to. The council were the only ones who spoke voluntarily. The rain kept thoughts quiet but without medication it was easy enough to converse. It was hard to get used to talking again. The things I said were wrong or too fast or too sharp and the things I wanted to say stayed at the edge of my mind but no one here could read them and—

And my mother came in. I couldn’t focus on her as well as I could on the area around her. Wisps of graying hair formed a ring around her head against the blue of the hallway.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said.

I’m worried about you.

The thoughts came unbidden, but I reached out to the edges of other’s minds by instinct now.

I nodded, forcing a smile that was met by one just as fake. I pulled on a shirt. It felt soft in comparison to the clothing in the Dreamer Pace and it was lighter in color, making my pale skin a bit less obvious.

You need to get out and do something. You can’t just stay here.

“I’m going to the store,” she said. “Can you watch Cynthia?”

I nodded. Cynthia was five and beautiful. Everyone thought it. And she didn’t know my face. She had been one when I left. I could tell what was behind those captivating blue eyes and shining hair; fear of the unknown and a hate that ran so deep she barely remembered why it was there for a brother who had left without saying goodbye. There was no way she could know my real intent with the whispered stories our parents told.

I stood up and pulled on pants. “Breakfast,” I said. “Where?”

“In the kitchen,” my mother said. “Help yourself. Your dad had breakfast earlier. He’s gone off to work.”

I followed her out of the room. My father was a politician. A liar all the way through and I didn’t trust him one inch and he could tell. It was worse now. I couldn’t always hear before and even when I could I didn’t know that people could keep from lying and be honest except for Violet and—

She pulled on a coat and left the apartment. I walked into the kitchen and put some eggs on a plate that was at my place. I poured some juice into a glass. Before I left she wouldn’t have trusted me nearly alone. Even with Violet. Especially with Violet. She knew we were together in a state that wasn’t quite dating but wasn’t platonic enough for friendship. She was afraid of hormones or us getting so involved in each other that we would ignore Cynthia. My mother would stay as chaperone but now—

Now there was no point.

Cynthia poked her head through the door as I sat down, coming in from the hall that connected the bedrooms.

“Is mommy here?” she asked.

When’s she going to be back? Don’t like him.

I tried to ignore her thoughts, as painful as they were to listen to.

I stabbed a piece of egg with my fork. “Store,” I said. “Back later. Breakfast?”

Hungry. But not someone I know, don’t know you.

“PleasemayIhavesomeeggs?” she asked.

The words rushed together. Hunger always won with her. Little kids could never figure out how to skip meals without complaining, never had to go twelve hours without a bite to eat or moving or sleeping. The Dream State was never the same to me as being asleep. I could usually tell, find the inconsistencies. I could never believe the pre-dream wasn’t going to fall out from under me. That endless plane in one direction but ever increasing sky in the other, the horizon becoming smaller and smaller until I reached the edge. But I had never managed to trust that if I fell I wouldn’t be suspended there forever or hit a surface that was a hundred leagues down. But there had been Violet and—

I stood up and scooped some eggs onto a plate before handing it to Cynthia. She took it and scurried back to her room. Afraid. Of me?

I’m not a scary person. A bit thin, half an inch shorter than average. Try and keep small so I go unnoticed. Stay within the lines even when there’s Violet and—

And I had to stop thinking about her some much. She was gone. It was within the rules and I had always followed the rules. They had never been wrong before. Not completely. And there was a flash and—

And there was Violet, standing out in the rain in the summer of sea spray with arms outstretched. There was salt on my lips and I couldn’t remember why.

Come on!

She turned and smiled at me and held out a hand.

And our hands brushed just enough to give us a hint of what two minds together might be like even through two layers of latex. And we were soaked to the bone but we didn’t care because at least we were together before the fall of wood smoke when everything fell to pieces.

I blinked away residual colors from the flash. They were stronger than normal. It was getting more and more difficult to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Dreaming was becoming too easy. I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to get fully awake. That working wasn’t likely but there was no coffee in the apartment. Even if there was I couldn’t drink it because of my medication.

Which reminded me.

I hadn’t taken the pills yet and it was after breakfast. It wasn’t too late for them to do some good but—

Might as well just skip. Couldn’t do too much harm. Not from just one day. They wouldn’t be watching me that close.

Right?

The stairs that wrapped around the outside of the city spire were quiet. There was a low electrical hum that permeated the air but it was easily ignored. I wasn’t picking up too much yet and I was eager to get a bit of quiet before things got too bad. They were fine in the Dreamer Place where the rain helped muffle everything. I could just see it as a smudge to the northeast. But here the sun was warm and everything was in focus for once. The trees were tingeing an orange color that I hadn’t seen since the fall of wood smoke. The sky was as clear as it got. There was always a bit of mist around the edges that the weather centers couldn’t quite work out. I leaned over the railing. I could almost see the park where Violet and I had first taken our gloves off. It was amazing I still knew my way around after four years. And—

I heard the cracking of glass and shards flew past me towards the ground and I turned around and—

Someone had come up behind me. Male, taller, too tan to be a native to this part of the world. His features were sharp. He had an almost nervous look like he wasn’t comfortable talking to me. I glanced up and the sparkling windows were intact.

“You’re a dreamer, right?” he asked.

The voice made me wince. Too harsh and too loud. The accent made it clear he was a visitor to the world.

“Used to be,” I said.

“You still are, right? You just got kicked out. The council didn’t mess with your brain waves or anything.”

“Technically.”

But being in a place without dreamers wasn’t really being one. What came with being a dreamer was useless. There was no shared dream space. The dreams I had were taken from the minds of others or my deepest fears.

I glanced down at his hand and saw the recorder. There was a blue light blinking. I turned around in protest.

“Why are you talking to me?” I asked.

“I’m doing a bit of a piece on dreamers,” he said. He leaned against the railing. “So why’d you get kicked out?”

I must have looked shocked or offended.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” he said.

“No,” I said. “It was Violet.”

“So there’s a girl involved.”

I nodded, gripping the railing with a vengeance.

“She helped me fall and I got kicked out. I have no idea what they have done with her.”

He nodded even though I am sure he had no idea what I was talking about. He turned around and pointed to the Dreamer Place.

“That’s where it is, right?” he asked.

I nodded. It was unexpected that an off-worlder would know where the Dreamer Place was. Most worlders didn’t know where the nearest one was.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“We did our research.” He smiled and held out a hand. “My name’s Stephan. What’s yours?”

I slid away from his hand and shook my head. I had been patient enough with this foreigner and I didn’t want to leave Cynthia alone for too long. My mother was still at the “store” “shopping” but I knew what she did in her free time. I wasn’t going to tell her husband. Not yet.

I started up the stairs, ignoring his queries as to where I was going and why.

Hand on the monitor, click, enter.

“Cynthia?” I asked.

Still asleep. Could feel her dreaming of better times and things that had no words.

I let the door swing shut behind me and sat down.

And Violet was there, playing hid and seek again.

Cheater, cheater. You didn’t take your meds this morning.

Neither did you.

And she smiled and closed her eyes and began to count.

And when I reach one hundred we can run and run and be free again. Don’t you remember that?

And I hid behind a tree and she found me and smiled as I opened my eyes. And she took off her gloves and took my hand and we ran and ran and—

I was nudged forward as the door opened and I jolted awake. The door opened more as I moved away.

“Did you fall asleep, honey?” my mother asked.

She edged into the apartment and closed the door. She was wearing different clothing and didn’t have any groceries.

“Yes,” I said.

“Did your remember to take your meds this morning? I didn’t remember to remind you until I was in traffic.”

For a moment—just a moment—I thought about lying.

“No,” I said.

“No?”

She looked half shocked and half disappointed in me. For all the years that she had trusted me to manage my medication I had never forgotten and then this time—

And it wasn’t that bad. There was no haze surrounding my thoughts and my vision was sharp. I could understand what was going on for once even though I kept falling asleep.

“Just remember to take them tomorrow, okay hon?”

I nodded and moved to the side so she could get out of the hallway. From what I could pick up, her husband wouldn’t be home for another few hours.

“Is Cynthia still asleep?” she asked.

She hung her purse on the coat rack and went into the kitchen where I had thankfully cleaned up after breakfast.

“Not anymore,” I said.

Cynthia had just woken up and was rubbing her eyes as she walked into the kitchen. She still managed to look beautiful despite her golden hair sticking up in four different directions.

“Hey, hon,” my mother said.

She picked Cynthia up, wincing slightly as she figured out that Cynthia was a lot heavier than she looked.

“You’re getting heavy,” she said. I need to go to the gym more often. “Did you two have lunch yet?”

“Nope!” Cynthia said. She smiled wide, revealing her two missing teeth.

She never smiled around me. Didn’t trust me. I didn’t trust her either.

“Not hungry. Big breakfast,” I said.

My mother looked worried, maybe just a bit.

If he’s sick they’ll find out I let him skip a day.

“Go and lie down, okay hon? Tell me if you get hungry,” she said.

I nodded and walked into my room.

I wasn’t sick.

I needed to get away. I needed to find Violet. Maybe need was too strong of a word. I wanted her. I wanted to be able to see her and break free of the clouds and see her smile.

And like that it was decided.

There was very little for me in this place I managed to call home after four years of living elsewhere, romanticized by a mind starved of people who cared. My parents had Cynthia who showed no signs of being a dreamer. They didn’t need someone like me, a failed dreamer who had lost a name and never gained a new one. I was just a number even if no one out here used it.

But I am two-oh-one.

I sat down on the floor and wrestled a bag out from under my bed. It was dusty but it would do. I put a few changes of clothing into the bag, folding them up so other things could fit except—

What else did I have? What else did I need? I was storming the castle. They would test me by dream or thought, not by sword or gun.

And again the colors and sounds swept through my mind.

And I was in the dream state back in the Dreamer Place; in the pre-dream where I had spent hour after hour trying to trust, trying to fall so I could move freely through the dreams of others. There was dirt stretching out as far as I could see and a horizon which was bit by bit disappearing as I walked forward.

Come on.

And Violet was standing next to me, holding out her hand. A projection. She was an avatar, but it was Violet controlling her and I took her hand.

Gloves dropped to the dust-covered ground.

And we ran toward the horizon.

“No double-dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Find her, her, her.”

I can’t go over the edge with you. Have to hide in the rain. Luck.

Luck.

We touched foreheads for a moment before she let go and disappeared back into Violet’s mind where she would do their best to hide but it wouldn’t work. But I kept running towards the edge and I jumped—

And my eyes flew open.

I stood up, shaking slightly. I didn’t want to remember what happened when I fell. I had lost Violet, gaining freedom while losing the reason for it.

I left the bag.

And I walked outside and ignored what my mother was saying and I left.

And I left for Violet.

The miles to the Dreamer Place went fast. I didn’t have time to think. It was better not to. What I was going to do would be better unplanned. They couldn’t deal with spontaneity. Plans came from the mind, dreamed up by the subconscious and the council dealt with dreams. My dream was to be my only weapon.

It got louder as I got closer; the noise of people thinking and dreaming. The rain tried to drown everything out so we could think without using another’s mind. Most of the time it worked, but it left everyone as shells. A body needs sunshine, even one who lives in a dream world.

And I still couldn’t hear Violet. Even when I was close to the doors and could see the dreamers wandering inside the glass building like an ant farm I couldn’t hear her voice.

I knocked once.

The panic set in quickly. I could feel it rise through the dreamers and burst into a frenzy of worried thoughts.

No one’s supposed to knock. No one comes here. Why is someone here? Who is this?

They scattered to their alcoves and let one of the half-dreamers deal with me. They could hear thoughts if they concentrated but they were unable to enter the dream space. They kept things in order when the council failed. One of the half-dreamers opened the door and I stepped in.

“What are you doing back here, two-oh-one?” he asked.

Harsh words shot through the otherwise silent space.

I am here to find Violet.

He concentrated for a moment to try and figure out what I was saying before shaking his head.

“I’ll have to talk to the council,” he said.

Go ahead. I will wait.

He turned and I reached forward and—

He fell to the ground and—

And I hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe give him a rush of thoughts to convince him to let me come but not leave him on the floor. I never meant to do that.

But there wasn’t time. I had to keep moving. I had to find the council. I had to find Violet.

The halls were still the same. There were half-dreamers trying to find me but they couldn’t. I could hide too well and I could hear them through the rain. Even the real dreamers would be hard pressed to find me. The dream clouded their thoughts, made them weak. After a while all they did was dream through scenarios the council gave them.

But not me and not Violet. We had each other. There was no comfort in the false worlds. Things weren’t right there, things could fall through. Violet was my rock. And Violet—

I didn’t know why the dream wasn’t enough for her. I hoped in my heart of hearts that the reason was me, but I didn’t know.

And then—

I was there. At the end of the hall. The ceiling was high and the walls were shaped so that the slightest whisper from the thirteen council members would be echoed to the middle of the room. The single woven mat was empty but they were there. Waiting. For me?

“What are you doing here, here, here? We told you to leave, leave, leave.”

The words echoed around the room, bouncing off of one wall or another.

I can’t leave Violet. What have you done with her? I stepped forward.

“Two-oh-one. Don’t come closer, closer, closer. We don’t want to have to hurt you, you, you.”

“But we will if we have to, to, to.”

They weren’t lying. They could lie. But I had to find Violet.

I stepped—

And I woke up in my alcove.

And Violet wasn’t there. And that was wrong.

But I had been there before. I was dreaming and if I know I’m dreaming I can break out.

“We can keep you trapped here, here, here.”

Their voices cut through the dream state.

But I could escape. I could fall.

“Not without help, help, help.”

I moved out of the alcove, carefully now that I knew I was dreaming. They made their dreams accurate. If I fell it would hurt. If I met Violet.

Violet. I could find—

Couldn’t think about it. Had to act.

I ducked around the one who came to throw me out and ran down the steps. If I could remember, if I could find—

Left, right, left, straight and on towards the end until—

There were her thoughts. Faint, but there.

Violet!

But it was still a dream. And the Violet behind that door—

She turned. And she wasn’t Violet. She didn’t smile at me or say hello, just—

You deserved this.

And I woke up, heart beating fast as the dream state shattered around me. I could almost see fragments of the dream in front of me, bits of sound and color. There was the blue of Violet’s eyes, there the sound of running down the hallway. As my vision cleared I saw that someone had moved me to the mat.

“We warned you, you, you.”

You didn’t have to do that. All I want to do is see Violet.

“Don’t lie to us, two-oh-one, oh-one, oh-one.”

There was a silence filled with the pitter-patter of the rain.

She doesn’t deserve whatever you’ve done to her. I didn’t want her to do this. I didn’t want her to help me fall. Just let her go.

“We cannot do that, that, that.”

Why not? What’s stopping you from just letting her go?

I stood up. From the stiffness of my muscles I had been dreaming for a few hours before breaking out of it. I would have to find her on my own. I turn and ran, feeling the stiffness leave as I moved. They would know where I was going but I could get there faster.

Twenty minutes of hunting faint whispers and trying not to think led me to her room.

Knock once, try the knob, enter. Her room was bigger than the alcoves and she was standing with her back to me.

Violet?

I’m here.

She turned and smiled. Even through everything she had kept her smile. She looked more worn than she had when I had last seen her. Her eyes weren’t as bright, her hands were shaking. But it was her.

I reached out a hand.

She shook her head. Time for reminiscing later.

I—

I nodded and withdrew my hand and turned towards the door. Violet followed, keeping close. I could feel her body heat near my skin and—

And I turned and brushed her hand just so I could say that I knew and I was sorry and—

And there was silence but for one voice whispering on the edge of hearing. It was her voice but it was wrong, disjointed.

“Thank you for walking us through what you have done wrong. Time to wake up, two-oh-one.”

Fin

**************

“Make Sense”

by Noah Thomas

Ooooh. This feels good, good feel like

butter leather smeared on a pan to be seared.

MMMM. This taste good, good taste like

star five which makes night life live

Yumm! This smells good, good smell like

Smell good smell makes smell smell good.

Hmmm. This sounds good, good sound like

HD, which makes fat singles look we.

Wow! This looks good, good look like

Man slips hand out saves man’s hip.

****************

“Pause love”

by Conrado Castro

Pause Love

Before it’s too late

Breathe before they rehabilitate your fate

Breathe like the need for oxygen in outer space

As if an entire race

Was breathing within the cosmos

Inhaling figments of unknown materials

Where aligning with the planets seems like miracle

Because I don’t plan to be a star

I would rather skip the supernova phase

For bountiful meaning in symmetrical space

But it seems that the Milky Way is in our way

Aspiring with major flaws

Towards hazardous yet isolating walls

I’ll breathe

But if I cease to breathe another universal breath

Make sure that they know that are alignment doesn’t end at death

It continues throughout the aging mind

So pause love

Before it’s too late

Breathe Before death rehabilitates your fate

***************

Buried in the Snow: from the mind of Billy McConnell

by Jack Williams

I opened my eyes and looked across the plain. Snow fell heavy on the ground like the white ash of Pompeii. On the horizon tall smoking chimneys from distant factories produced clouds. The sky became thicker by the minute with dark gray clouds.

I was kneeling in the snow, which was now working its way up my thighs and filling the space between the inside of my boots and my ankles. I could feel the brisk cold on my cheeks. I inhaled slowly through my nose—bringing myself back to reality. My lungs filled with frost for a brief moment before I exhaled. Around me, the wind blew snow rapidly through the air, blurring my vision.

I looked down and in the snow in front of me were two long thin logs. I got to my feet and bent down and picked up the logs. I could see imprints in the snow where I had walked before. I started to follow the prints. It was harder now than it had once been. The snow just kept piling on. It is not easy going back. The path I had made before was now buried in the snow. I kept walking though. I walked for a good hour—all the time the chimneys became more solid. Then I finally saw it. The flickering light of a fire, still burning, emitting a light and airy smoke. I pushed through the last one hundred yards or so.

I had made it back just in time. The flames of the fire were dying and needed to be tended to. Ten feet to the left of the fire was the tent I had pitched. Lying next to the fire was Clàr. I could see her black hair. Her skin was pale white. Her eyes were closed. She was trying to stay warm.

Behind the fire was the decaying corpse of a wolfhound. The beast was seven feet from head to tail and stood at about four feet on all fours. It had been dead for three days. I would have burned it to avoid the smell, but it would have upset her. Luckily it did not smell because the cold air was quick to slow the decaying process. Still it was apparent the beast had thinned down.

As I approached she must have heard me because she opened her eyes. When she saw me she tried to manage a smile. I smiled back and then turned to the fire. I threw the logs on and added a little bit of kindling that I had collected earlier. I knelt down close to the fire and formed an oval shape with my lips and blew the coals. After a couple of minutes the coals lit back up and the fire burst back to life. Clàr sat up.

“I love a warm fire,” Clàr said.

“It won’t last long.”

“Then let’s enjoy it while it lasts,” she said.

I sat down next to her and she put her head on my shoulder. I sat and stared into the flames. I took my gloves off and put them in front of the fire to dry. I warmed my hands in front of the fire. Then I brought my hand up to touch her cheek. It was colder and whiter than the snow. All the color had been drained from her face.

“Why didn’t you stay in the tent? It was warmer in the tent.”

“I love the fire and the snow, and the cool wind on my face. I think I will stay here.”

“You can make it. We can make it.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“It’s just on the other side. We can make it.”

“I am thirsty. May I have some water?”

I took a flask out of my pocket, unscrewed it and handed it to her. She took it and sipped slowly on it.

“On the other side of those chimneys you’ll breathe easier. There will be no clouds.”

“The clouds will be gone soon,” she said.

She handed the flask back to me and I put it back into my pocket. The flames were getting low again. I began to get up to add more kindling, but she pulled me back.

“Let it burn down,” she said. “Just stay with me.”

I shut my eyes for a while and just listened to the wind. It whistled through my ears. I thought I heard Clàr humming along with it, but I couldn’t be sure. I might have fallen asleep.

When I opened my eyes Clàr was staring at me. I looked at the fire. Now it was just embers and one measly flame in the middle flickering. Clàr started to speak.

“I am tired,” she said. “It might be time to go to sleep.”

“Stay up a little longer.”

“I’m tired.”

I wrapped my arms around her and looked up at the sky. The clouds were starting to thin. The moon shined through and a few stars emerged. I looked at Clàr. Her skin was glowing in the moonlight. She became weaker and weaker until I had to hold her. I looked at the fire, which was now only embers.

At first there had only been a few stars, but now there were hundreds. The chimneys were no longer making clouds. Clàr’s skin was shining bright light now. Her eyes were smiling in that last moment before she closed her. The last ember burned out. The wind started blowing harder. Clàr went limp and turned white as snow. Finally she turned to snow and the wind picked her up gently and blew her across the plain. Suddenly the sky burst into lights. Purple and green and blue danced across the sky.

From the lights emerged a hand. It shot out fast towards the chimneys. Then the hands turned to snakes and wrapped around the chimneys. They began to tighten, squeezing the cement tubes mercilessly. The chimneys started to crack until finally they crumbled, fell to the ground, and melted away. The snakes retreated to their fortress and the moon began to set.

As the sun peaked over the horizon, the snow began to melt at last making way for green grass and flowers blooming. Now the single shaded plain gave way for color. So, I stood up and walked the other way. The beast got up and followed and we retreated away with the sun at our heels. It is hard to go back. But I had to. Something precious to me was buried in the snow.

***************

“Life Behind Glass”

by Sarah Paez

We are the only ones

Stuck in the snow globe of time

Watching memories resurface

Like blizzards from the past

We are the only ones

Who can’t be saved

Eternally sentenced

To a life of reliving

Our visages reflect on