Lucid Waking

Originally on December 24, 2005

            I never would have expected my element to be fire. Heck, my sign is an earth sign. Ever since mom died in the fire, I’ve hated it since. I’m even afraid of ovens, although I’d never admit to it. Father says that everyone is afraid of something; he worries every night that he may lose me like he lost mother. I love my father. He always listens and he’ll always have a shoulder to cry on. He doesn’t seem to care that the main content of my letters seem to be complaining about school and home. I only get to see him once a year around my birthday since he went away. It was our countries brilliant idea to send troops over to help the civil war in Africa. Although I highly disagree with our motives, Father says it’s best if I don’t talk about it. People are pretty much divided on the issue and he spends so much time convincing himself it’s for the good, he doesn’t want me to mess it up. It’s a fair and logical request and I’ve kept my end of the bargain for years. I try to think of it as he’s traveling to Africa and finding archeological evidence that elves and fairies lived there before us. Perhaps he’ll come back with an ancient relic that brings people up from the dead in the same condition that they were in the day before they died.
            Lilith called me yesterday and told me I was going to be sent to a boarding school for the “gifted students.” Just a bunch of B.S. if you ask me. I suppose I should give a little space up for Lilith since I spent so much space on father. Lilith is my aunt; she’s short tempered, hypocritical, and over-protective. When father’s not around she’ll complain non-stop about my manners and how father didn’t teach me well. I’ve wanted to say to her: “What the hell are you talking about? You’ve been raising me since mom died when I was eight. And I barely see dad. How could you be blaming him; it’s all your fault!” Of course with my amazing self control, I just bite my lip. That’s part of the reason I have this journal. Father sent it discreetly over from Africa, since he knows full well how much complaining my aunt would do if she found out. In fact, she’s pretty upset right now that my door is locked so I can write. She doesn’t know I’m writing, of course, but she’s complaining all the same. You’d think I’d burned the cookies I made.
            Tomorrow I’ll be sent off and hopefully I’ll have more opportunities to write without having to lock my door.

            Nina closed the smooth leather book gently and placed in under her pillow. She put the pencil back into the pencil cup and opened the door. Aunt Lilith was standing at the bottom of the stairs when she got at the end of the hall.
            Nina was expecting her aunt to go into a long-winded explanation of locking doors and manners, but she just shook her head and walked toward the kitchen. Taken aback, Nina tip-toed down the stairs and peered around the corner. Sitting at the kitchen table was a tall man with ruffled black hair and long pointy ears. He was sipping a cup of her aunt’s god-awful coffee as she came in.
            Aunt Lilith smiled. Nina noticed it made her seem much prettier. Maybe that’s what Dad meant when he said Lilith was pretty once, she thought. I never really thought about it. Maybe she gave everything up to come here. Nina shook the thought out of her head. But that doesn’t give her the right to complain.
            “Nina, this is Mr. Santonio. He’s the principal at your new school and he’s eager to speak with you,” she pulled a chair out for Nina, who then sat down. Nina watched her aunt leave the kitchen and walk up the stairs.
            “It’s a pleasure to have finally met you,” Mr. Santonio said. “Your father speaks very highly of you.”
            “My father?” Nina looked him in the eyes startled.
            “Your father recommended you for this school. Based on your past record, he did not underestimate you. But it’s important that we discuss your new power. Nina, do you know what catastrophic accidental power provokers are?”
            Nina shook her head eyeing him sideways. This man seemed alright, but how did he know her father and how did he know she had a power. And why would he care about catastrophic whatevers?
            “Don’t seem so surprised. Your father asked me to help figure out what happened to your mother at that’s what I dug up.”
            He took another sip of coffee.
            “How- Who are you?”
            He smiled. “I’m not the one you should be afraid of."

Filed under: Fantasy by Bri
No Comments »

Originally published on December 23, 2005

            If you had asked Charlie what he wanted to be when he grew up, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you he wanted to be an astronaut. In fact, we almost believed he would follow through: he took astronomy classes every chance he could and he would go to NASA.com every week. He would go to the library on Sundays and read about space and space travel for hours. If it weren’t for Charlie’s passion, I would have never gotten my homework done all through high school. Those visits to the library were a godsend to get out of the house from mom and dad’s yelling.
            Then the divorce papers came in and dad left. Mom flew into a deep depression and almost drowned herself in wine for months. My mom’s side of the family tried to come to our aid, but it didn’t help that my grandmother would just complain about what a bum my father was, and that my mother was better off without him. That’s when Charlie stopped going on NASA.com every week.
            Then we spent the weekend with dad and I thought it went well. When we came home, mom was in the hospital for an alcohol overdose. She had drunk five too many glasses and ended up passed out in the alley behind the bar. At least she didn’t try to go home. Mom was then diagnosed with alcoholism and was sent to support groups. She went over the weekends and during the week we all worked. We saw her less and less, and saw dad more and more. That’s when Charlie stopped taking astronomy classes.
            Then came the day of the draft. Dad was too old, but Charlie wasn’t. He was a freshman in high school when the draft came. The government was desperate and needed anyone. They thought if they took anyone as young as twelve years old and train them until their eighteen, we would have better soldiers and had a better chance of getting out of the war sooner. Charlie never really understood why he had to go; he just knew that he could see jail for years if he didn’t. I thought it was another Vietnam, and we most certainly didn’t need another one. That’s when Charlie stopped going to the library.
            My senior year of college was iffy; since I wasn’t going the library, my grades were slipping and I struggled to keep up with them. I felt like I was holding those plastic “soap” things where if you squeeze it to hard, the plastic rolls and it shoots the thing out of your hands. I was also losing Charlie. It was his personality and dedication was inspiring and he always had the best jokes. Now that he was just words on a paper, he was loosing his preciousness and I was losing more of my family. After Charlie left for training, dad took up smoking. By the time I was almost thirty and Charlie would be twenty-one (we still celebrated his birthdays, it was the only way I could get cake into the house without either parent telling me I didn’t need cake, it destroyed my figure), Dad was in the hospital for liver cancer. I fell back hard on my friends and somehow, I managed to get through it. I leaned heavily on them and thank them everyday for not letting go and holding me fast. I was slipping into the chasm of despair and death and I needed them to help me keep my strength; they didn’t fail me. But Dad kept getting worse. With dad in the hospital and letters of Charlie’s near-death experiences streaming in, I started taking medication for stress. I was afraid there would be no one left.
            A lot has happened between then and now, and let’s just suffice it to say, I’m married and have two beautiful twins. I’m off my anti-stress drug and am back to normal health. Charlie’s back, though he’s currently in school getting his bachelor’s in astronomy. Dad’s hung on, but is in the hospital, again. Mom is back and has been alcohol free for seven years. Everyone visits my father every Saturday as a family outing; Charlie and I will go extra times during the week and sometimes slip in during our lunch breaks. Overall, things have improved a lot. And I hope they just keep getting better.

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
No Comments »