A darker hue of loneliness and an unquenchable despair sprouts from my stomach when I look at the bundle in my hands now. Just two weeks ago, I feverishly dared God to show its sadistic face in this tiny one so I could smash it against the walls. I longed to turn to bloody red the rosiness that flushed from these cheeks, no other colour would’ve better painted my torture on this floor. I could not bring myself to accept such a bargain. She and God, if ever there was one, were to blame. It has been only two weeks.
Last week, I caught the bundle smiling. I let myself see it. Her smile, even if only for a moment, loosened the icy grip loss has had over my heart since Sarah favoured the other side over me. I never believed she would betray me so. How could she have the strength to let go of this world with me still in it? She always told me she loved me. To death. What did that even mean?
I met Sarah on a rainy day walking home from the supermarket nearby. Id tripped into the mud and like the saviour she was meant to be, she lent me a hand. From the second I set my eyes on her, Sarah became the light that guided my insufferable passage through the rocky planes of life. In the end, I wasn’t even seen fit to have that happiness for long.
Why the hell does God leave this mockery of a replica in my hands? To thunderously laugh in my face? To remind me of my powerlessness in neither truly having nor completely losing the only thing I ever dared to call mine? Because yes, Sarah is gone, but why does she smile at me this very moment?
Is it true that faster than light travel breaks no laws of physics, but that it is ACTUAL light speed which is the impossibility, a barrier which can never be passed? I read that a long time ago. It is how those hypothetical particles called tachyons can be theorized to exist, forever exceeding lightspeed but never able to slow to beneath it. What is this then, an asymptote just there at 186,000 miles per second (as I remember it)? If only time were quantized, like a video existing as a series of frames, then perhaps we could skip over that asymptote so that the impossible point lay between the frames.
The light seeps under the door, I see the shadows of footsteps and I still, crouched over, hoping my parents don’t open the door so I get back to my book. My nightlight isn’t bright enough so I use this little leak of light, holding the book at awkward angles so it falls across the pages. I should be in bed. I should be asleep but my mind is too busy and there are stories to dive into. This is my biggest disobedience.
The package was large but it was very light. She held it in her hands and shook it and moved it around, to see if something inside moved. Then she put it down again and was surprised when it float. “Is it helium inside?” She thought again. “Or the anti-gravity prototype?”
The light shone bright at the end of the cave, rippling in the water’s surface. Her eyes blinked slowly, arm outstretched for that last beacon of hope. She tried to will her limbs to move, swim, flail, anything, but only moved in slow motion as her lungs screamed for air.
A darker hue of loneliness and an unquenchable despair sprouts from my stomach when I look at the bundle in my hands now. Just two weeks ago, I feverishly dared God to show its sadistic face in this tiny one so I could smash it against the walls. I longed to turn to bloody red the rosiness that flushed from these cheeks, no other colour would’ve better painted my torture on this floor. I could not bring myself to accept such a bargain. She and God, if ever there was one, were to blame. It has been only two weeks.
Last week, I caught the bundle smiling. I let myself see it. Her smile, even if only for a moment, loosened the icy grip loss has had over my heart since Sarah favoured the other side over me. I never believed she would betray me so. How could she have the strength to let go of this world with me still in it? She always told me she loved me. To death. What did that even mean?
I met Sarah on a rainy day walking home from the supermarket nearby. Id tripped into the mud and like the saviour she was meant to be, she lent me a hand. From the second I set my eyes on her, Sarah became the light that guided my insufferable passage through the rocky planes of life. In the end, I wasn’t even seen fit to have that happiness for long.
Why the hell does God leave this mockery of a replica in my hands? To thunderously laugh in my face? To remind me of my powerlessness in neither truly having nor completely losing the only thing I ever dared to call mine? Because yes, Sarah is gone, but why does she smile at me this very moment?
Is it true that faster than light travel breaks no laws of physics, but that it is ACTUAL light speed which is the impossibility, a barrier which can never be passed? I read that a long time ago. It is how those hypothetical particles called tachyons can be theorized to exist, forever exceeding lightspeed but never able to slow to beneath it. What is this then, an asymptote just there at 186,000 miles per second (as I remember it)? If only time were quantized, like a video existing as a series of frames, then perhaps we could skip over that asymptote so that the impossible point lay between the frames.
The light seeps under the door, I see the shadows of footsteps and I still, crouched over, hoping my parents don’t open the door so I get back to my book. My nightlight isn’t bright enough so I use this little leak of light, holding the book at awkward angles so it falls across the pages. I should be in bed. I should be asleep but my mind is too busy and there are stories to dive into. This is my biggest disobedience.
The package was large but it was very light. She held it in her hands and shook it and moved it around, to see if something inside moved. Then she put it down again and was surprised when it float. “Is it helium inside?” She thought again. “Or the anti-gravity prototype?”
The light shone bright at the end of the cave, rippling in the water’s surface. Her eyes blinked slowly, arm outstretched for that last beacon of hope. She tried to will her limbs to move, swim, flail, anything, but only moved in slow motion as her lungs screamed for air.