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amarantine-amirite · 3 years

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Out of Words, Out of Songs, Out of Ideas

I got a real surprise today when I got the recording studio at my school.

No lie, when I first saw it, I actually said, "What the fuck?!" I was just lucky that there weren't any teachers around, otherwise I would've heard, "Language, Camille" and have to drop 25 cents in the swear jar.

I shouldn't have worried about a teacher overhearing me. I should've been worried about Zoe overhearing me.

I never got along with Zoe. Zoe is one of those people who refuses to take responsibility, gives pathetic excuses, and either ignores consequences or downplays them. Worse, she talks down to you like you're stupid. "Noticed the piano, huh?" she said.

I nodded quickly. "Why the hell are all the keys the same color?"

Zoe did the thing where she talked down to me like I was stupid. "The school district was worried that people would think the regular piano keys are racist, so they painted them to match the wood casing."

I couldn't believe what she said. In the name of racial harmony, they painted all the keys of the piano the same color. If it didn't actually happen, I would have thought it was a joke.

I should never put it past the school to do something like this. I remember we had twins in my fourth-grade class named Benjamin and Daniel. They went by Ben and Dan. We also had a Chinese kid in our class (James) that had a learning disability. Alphabetically, he came right before Ben and Dan.

I didn't play with Ben, Dan, or James that often. I only really remember their names because of this one thing that happened.

One day, when the teacher was taking attendance, he called James's name, but James didn't hear him. Frustratedly, he moved on to the next two people, Ben and Dan. He said, "Ben, Dan"

"Ben, Dan" sounds like the Chinese phrase for "idiot". When James heard the teacher say this, he ran out of the classroom in tears.

They had to put Ben and Dan in separate classes over this. I don't know what happened to them after that. All I do know is that people are far more willing to bend over backward to avoid stepping on toes than you think. "Do they not have a little voice in their head that says this might be a bad idea?" I squealed.

Zoe shook her head. "I understand that you're upset. I get that. Things are a little messy right now. But sometimes, things have to look a little worse before they look amazing," she said in her trademark condescending tone.

I need my visual signposts. Making all the keys on the piano the same color just takes them away. And I'm far from the only person that thinks that. The reason pianos have different colored keys so the person playing them can tell the difference between the natural and semitone pitches. "Zoe, this isn't a little messy;" I said way louder than I should have, "this piano is now unusable."

Dorothy walked in. "What's all the hubbub?" she asked.

I pointed to the piano. "The school thinks it can combat racism by painting the keys on the piano the same color." All they've managed to combat is the musician's ability to consistently play the right notes.

Dororthy looked at the piano. She looked at me. She looked at the piano again, and then she looked back at me. "You know, Camille" she said, "You can't come down from a high you were never on."

I nodded, even though I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Sometimes, people say something insightful. Other times, it sounds insightful, but it falls apart the minute you try and parse it. "You can't come down from a high you were never on" falls into the latter.

I guess it could mean that you could never come back to reality if you never left reality in the first place, but I'm not fully sure. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it's one of those phrases that sounds deep and meaningful, but when you really look at it, it's just painfully confusing. "I get that, Dorothy, but can you explain to me what that's supposed to mean?"

I think she tried to say, "for everything, there is a season. There is a time for everything, and now is not the time for that." Basically, she tried to respond to a thought terminating cliché with another thought terminating cliché. But try as she might, she just could not get the words out. She wound up saying, "For everything, there is a season, a season is time of growth"

That sentence made so little sense that I burst out laughing. "Excuse me, what? Care to explain what this is supposed to mean, because I think I just had an aneurysm trying to decipher this."

Dorothy repeated what she said. "Everything has seasoning, but if you special the time, it is a growth."

"You're not making any sense"

By now, she started to get frustrated. "I said, for every season, a season is time of growth."

"That made even less sense than before," I said. I wanted to say "I've listened to drunk people who were far more coherent than that," but kept it shut. And for good reason. When she tried to speak again, nothing came out. No sound. Radio silence.

All of a sudden, it hit me. She wasn't dodging the question or being evasive or anything like that. She was actually having a stroke!

It spooked me. One minute, somebody's brain works fine. The next, it just comes to a grinding halt.

It could have been much worse. Even though she couldn't talk, at least her face wasn't drooping. Now was still a good time to call an ambulance, as time wasted is brain wasted.

I called 911, and they put me on hold. The hold music was "Staying Alive" by the Bee Gees. In the time I was on hold, Dorothy downed an entire bottle of water and began frantically signing to anyone who was watching. This might sound weird, but I felt a huge wave of relief watching her sign. She signed with both arms, the ASL equivalent to speaking with both sides of your mouth. Zoe looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Helen Keller." Dorothy got all pissed off, gave Zoe the finger, and stormed off to that corner of the room with the bead curtains.

Once I finally got off hold, 911 put me through to this guy whose last job was probably working as a bellhop in a second-rate Torquay hotel. "Hello? Hello, 911. How are you today?"

"Uh," I responded, "my friend Dorothy is having a stroke, how do you think I am?"

He blinked in confusion hard enough that I could feel it on the other end of the phone. "¿Que?" he said.

Growing ever more frustrated, I repeated, "Dorothy is having a stroke!"

I thought he'd understand the second time. But no, he did not. "¿Que?" he said again after a long pause.

I grew frustrated. It was almost like he couldn't remember what his job was, let alone the nature of my emergency. "Dorothy. Stroke." I reiterated in an annoyed fashion.

"OK, I see," he replied. He seemed to finally understand what I had said. "You friend Dorothy having a stroke."

"Yes!" I said. Finally, we were getting somewhere.

Or so I thought. I couldn't believe the next words out of the guy's mouth. "We no have time for you wild goose chase"

"What?!" I said, completely taken aback.

"We no have time. We no believe you. Very, very sorry. Goodbye!"

I went behind the bead curtains and sat down across from Dorothy. "Well, that was a bust." I said.

"Why didn't you bring your guitar?" Dorothy signed.

"My amp still isn't working" I answered.

The amp broke in the first place because some moron plugged it into a car battery. If you plug a guitar amp into a car battery, it will explode. I took it to the repair shop to get it fixed. They said it was ready for pickup, but it was exactly the same as it was when I went to pick it up as it was when I brought it in.

"I thought you had it fixed."

"So did I." I showed Dorothy a picture of the amp before I took it in and after. She looked at it and laughed.

"So Dorothy," I asked, "what did you mean when you said you can't come down from a high you were never on?"

Dorothy nodded. Those were the last words she said before she had a stroke, and it seemed she couldn't hear them without crying. She steeled herself and signed, "It means that if you don't know what you're expecting, it doesn't make sense to get upset when your expectations aren't met."

Good, I thought, we're getting somewhere. That said, she still can't talk. "I might call 911 again" I said.

Dorothy nodded. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

The good news was, I didn't wind up on hold. The bad news was, I wound up dealing with Manuel The 911 Operator again. "Hello, 911, how are you, is nice day"

"OK, no" I said, "Not nice day. Dorothy can't talk."

"¿Que?"

"Dorothy have stroke. Now, Dorothy no talk."

Not only did he recognize me from before, he still didn't believe me. "Oh, it's you," he said in a very annoyed tone, "We no believe you. How many times? Where are you ears, you great, big, halfwit?? We no have time, listen?"

For a brief moment, the line went dead. The operator picked up again. "Now you understand! So bye bye, please, bye bye." Nice. Then they hung up on me again.

I came here to record a song. Not only did that not get done, I had to fend off political correctness gone mad, deal with a 911 operator who knows nothing, and witness a close acquaintance lose her voice because part of her brain stopped working.

I can't believe I snuck out of geography class for this.

@leopard-prompts

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short story #creative writing #FindTheWriters

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cutiepasta-thewriter · 6 years

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Her Gift

(Warning: attempted suicide)

Peter knew her well. One the day he was born she was there. Her dark shadow-like figure stood in the corner with her black lips tilted up in smile. She turned to leave with her black nurses outfit with her as if to fit in but she was never seen in the first place.

They met again months later. As she stood over his crib. She reached down to stroke his curls and cooed at him. Her voice was light and sweet as she spoke.

"Don't worry, its not time yet." She whispered as she moved away.

Five years later she returned but not to see him. She came for his parents and the crowd of other passengers on their flight. Peter wondered what they said to her. Where did she take them?

They met again ten years later. She stood by his side as he cried over his uncles body, only leaving to speak to his uncle. Peter didn't see him but he knew.

She had taken so many from him. Why? What did she want from him? Why won't she just leave him alone?

These thoughts drove Peter mad. She never stopped and she never would. The demon would hunt him for as long as he lived.

Standing on the edge now he felt so tired. He just wanted some peace, to sleep and not think all the time. As he took his first step he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not usually the one to stop people but you can't do this Peter." Her even tone gave no sense of panic or care.

Peter turned to her. Wild black hair, a black tee and blue jeans. She looked like a emo chick and not a demon, she was normal.

"Why would you of all people stop me? This is what you want isn't it? To see me finally do it? You've driven me crazy for so long, you should be happy."peter accused not bothering to step away from the edge.

"Peter, we both know you don't want to do this. Your afraid of me, afraid I'll take you when it suits me so your trying to make it on your terms."

Peter flinched, he knew exactly why he was doing this and he knew it was wrong. At the same time it felt like the only way. He killed uncle Ben not her. This would make it right and then he'd never have yo suffer loss ever again.

"I just want to do what's right but somehow no matter what I do I end up alone." Peter spoke in a hushed whisper.

She sighed before taking a seat on the ledge. Her eyes scanned the horizon as the setting sun disappeared behind the towering buildings of New York.

"Look. The reason I'm here is to make sure you stay on track. Believe it or not you are a special human to me. But then again all of you are special." She laughed pulling Peter to sit with her. "Peter you have a fate that goes beyond your comprehension at the moment. If destiny was here now they'd tell you themselves. Unfortunately they can't be here but they did tell me this themselves."

"Destiny?" Peter tilted his head in question like a puppy.

"My older sibling. You've met most of my family already. Dream, Destruction, Delirium, Despair, Desire, but you haven't met Destiny." Death listed off her family members as Peter held his breath to keep from laughing.

"Are all of you named with the letter D?" Peter asked giggling at the alliteration.

"Yes, we are."Death took no offense but she did ask a question "Peter I've known for a long time that you're going to do something that shocks even me. I can see how your life will improve many others just by virtue of existing."

Peter shifted uncomfortably as he thought about her words. What could he have done to interest death herself. Who was he going to help? How can she be sure?

"I don't believe you. I know-i know your death and everything but it's hard to believe." Peter mumbled, he sounded so stupid. He just couldn't see that future or any future for that matter.

"Oh my god! Kid I just gave you a prediction of a wickedly cool future and your turning it down."She sounded almost shocked as she facepalmed "Alright sadsack, you wanna question me? I'm death, I know when it's time. Peter you need to understand that you're getting just what everyone gets. A lifetime. Whether is today or a hundred years from now you're getting it. Stop moping around afraid of me and start living. Your taking my gift for granted."

Peter quirked his brow. What gift?

"Peter you are not owed a happy life. No one is but you are given a chance to have a meaningful one. Whether you take it or...not" She paused as she looked down to the concrete stories below "You have the ability to make it as great as you possibly can. I'm not saying you're blessed to become great just because. You're great because you are going to try, you're going to work hard everyday to achieve what you know you want. Or you can prove me wrong right now, Peter. You can jump and I'll let you because I can't change death. Its what I am after all, but know this; I am no villain. I am death but I am also life. True, I didn't bring you into the world but I am the reason you live. I'm what drives you to achieve because life is short, but I am eternal. I make people leave to house to travel the world, meet new people, fall in love because every second could be your last. Everyday you keep living, I'll be there. I'll watch and wait, I'll continue to push you to live until the end comes. If you want to escape then jump."

Peter suddenly found himself standing at the edge. No sign of death in sight but he knew she was still here. At the same time he was alone and nothing could stop him. Taking few deep breaths he thought over her words.

What did he gain by doing this. He wanted the pain to end but was he really ready to die? Did he even know what it was like to live? He was only fourteen after all. What about aunt May though, she'd be all alone.

Peter stepping down from the ledge as he wiped the heavy tears from his eyes. He was just so empty after uncle Ben died and he just wanted to forget it all.

Thinking it over however he considered death's words. Everyone gets a lifetime. And that's true Ben got a lifetime and it was a pretty good life at that. At the same time its a reminder to Peter to do something with his before its to late.

Years later they met again in a world space between the physical and spiritual plane. A simple house in the middle of nothing. A realm of death. It was surprisingly cozy.

A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder as the owner pulled him close. As if to protect him the owner glared at the figure across from them.

"Don't come any closer. I don't know if you're some servant of Thanos but I want you to stay away from us."Stephen spoke in a baritone growl as he held tightly onto him as the stranger approached.

Peter snuck a glance at the dark spector and saw a familiar figure. A tall wild haired emo chick with black painted lips and a tank top.

Peter smiled warmly as he pulled himself from the mystic's embrace to greet death like an old friend.

"You've grown but you're still not taller then me." She laughed rubbing her thumb over his ruddy cheeks like a grandma seeing her grandkids again.

"You can be as big as a house if you wanted to so don't give me that."Peter joked back before shifting his expression sombered "So its that time?"

Death put a finger to her lips in thought.

"No, I don't think so and thank gods for that. Thanos has caused an uproar among the spirits. Everyone is going into holding until it clears up. You guys are going to be staying here until further notice." Death prepared to launch into a explanation she had given too many times "Your friends should be next door. Don't worry if your for someone you'll find them. Also Peter, you are unofficially adopted by this man because someone is required to look after you and it ain't gonna be me. Also he was the closest to you when you got dusted."

"I can't just be adopted without consent. Besides I'm old enough to take care of myself." Peter argued crossing his arms and pouting.

"Well, I said so. I suggest you all prepare for the future. Even I don't know what comes next or what will happen. The universe I crying out and my people are nervous. We are looking for answers." Death willed herself for a moment letting the gravity of her words sink in. "I'll see you later guys."

With that she was gone.

Peter and Stephen had to figure out what was next or even if there was a next. For now they were safe but gods only know what the world must look like now.

#neil gaiman #endless #peter parker #stephen strange #strange family #dr strange #spiderman #Death of the endless #sandman #dc comics

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