To The Shark
She’s insecure, she’s scared, too timid to go on. A figure shrouded in a dark halo of serene deep blue, the depths of the ocean contained in one loney aura. She can feel the weight of it, pushing and pulling like a seductive tide, rocking her to sleep, jolting her awake when its cold fingers claw its way into her throat. She wants to understand it, to control it, but its crushing pressure that has no physical mass is too complex, too wild to own.
We Are COVID
For as long as humans have existed, viruses and diseases have killed and weakened our people, causing panic and fear across the globe throughout history. The Plague, or the Black Death, from the 1300s, killed 50% of who it infected and is still spoken about with an awestruck horror up to this day. The Spanish Influenza, from the early 1900s, which killed about 3% of the world's population, is a time associated with the World Wars and the some of the darkest aspects of human history. Countless other such plagues and sicknesses have occurred and still do, but now, in 2021, all we can think about it COVID 19, which kills a very small percentage of those who get infected by it, but it kills enough for us all to hurt for the people we have lost.
The Movie is Real!
The rain is relentless, pounding with angry fists on the roof and slashing demandingly on the windows of the old house, ruined and shabby. How it is still standing, no one knew, but with its rusty red and green door and roof and sides patched up from constant repair, one would have thought it would have collapsed long ago. Maybe, it is held up with the astounding willpower from the three beings inside it who depended on it for life and death.
August 2nd, 2139 Dear Diary, It is the second day on the moon now. I am sitting in my bunker, alone, while the others all go exploring this new place, but I just can’t make myself go with them. I assume that this awful dread in my stomach that feels so heavy I can't move is simply because I miss home, Earth, and the memories from there make me feel horrible with homesickness, despite the condition we left it in. I still remember those days when birds still sang songs to the morning sunbeams and trees swayed and danced to the music of nature. I am crying now: I can't even explain the regret I feel gnawing at my insides from how we killed our planet and our people and abandoned them. I can see Earth from here: a small orb that is dull blue and green with red and white stains smeared across its surface from the oil and pollution- and maybe the spilt blood from the War. I don't even know what to say here about the War, just that I don’t even remember it because my mind has refused to let me witness those memories again. What I know is that 75% of the 30 billion people were slaughtered in the wild rush for power and resources, when the Plague of Red had started claiming far too many people, and it had driven them all mad. The Plague of Red had arisen about 30 years ago, before I was born, when a radiation spill had killed everyone in Europe, and the Plague had mutated from the ruins and those who caught it were driven by a passion to kill. I was born into a world of slaughter and pain, so how am I not used to it? I can't say, but now, having just stepped off the Heart Shaped Locket, the last spaceship left on earth, I feel even worse than I did on earth. I should be grateful to be alive, to be one of those lucky refugees that got a pass to escape my waring planet, not even a full persent of the population, but I'm not: I am terrified because I feel like I've just stepped into something much worse. What is wrong with me?
To Have a Heart of Gold
No one exactly knew where it had come from, or when, just that it was older than anyone could imagine. Often its owners would hold it close to their chest, tucked underneath their ragged or silky garments adorned with either jewels or fleas, and would wonder where it had come from long into the night until the sun’s rays glazed the distant horizon. Sometimes, it would occasionally burn so hot their skin would boil and turn black, but none had the willpower to take it off, until their heart had burned to charred soot and they would wonder why they hadn’t taken it off right away in the first place. For some, that tunnel deep in their chest was not visible to the human eye, and only the owner would know that it was nestled right in their fragile ribcage, between their lungs, beating and pulsing like a real heart until the bloody, wet organ itself stopped working in the belief that it was no longer needed.
The Small Miracles of Life
My family’s cottage is a thriving home for wildlife, and I see so many beautiful and sacred creatures there that I would never have been able to see in the urban world. It's how I managed to take this photo, with my LGK61 phone and with no filters or modifications added. Truly, I believe it is a magical place, just a quiet and small cottage out in nature facing a mineral rich, dark blue lake with titanic trees and massive and silent granite rocks stretching like small mountains from the woods to the sandy shore. I have grown up there, as has my mother and my grandfather, and my great grandfather. In the summer, we swim all day and maybe go stretch out on the heated rocks to warm up, in fall we go on journeys through the molten gold forest and collect turkey feathers, in the winter we hide inside by the fire or go snowshoeing on the frozen lake, and in spring, we watch the wildlife thrive, because us as humans are a part of this beautiful and natural cycle. We are not separate from nature, and this place truly reminds me of that. Foxes that steal our shoes if we leave them out too long, chipmunks that would climb up our legs to reach a peanut, a herd of deer standing on the frozen lake and leaving trails of footprints in the snow, bald eagles soaring overhead in hope of catching a fish, rattlesnakes sunning on the immense granite rocks, minks dashing across the shoreline. If we’re really lucky, we may even see a mother bear with her cubs, or a herd of moose. But, no matter what the conditions are, we can always rely on the turtles who lay their eggs, hatch and break free of their eggshells, and swim in the bay every year. We have every year been able to watch our mother snapper or painted turtle climb cautiously out of the water and make her way to the perfect place to have her nest, and witness a mother turtle laying her eggs while we have a campfire not so far away and watch the moon peak out beyond the treetops. We protect and make sure the babies get safely to the water for the first time, because it only seems fair that we give something in return for this magical moment, so we take care of her eggs all winter by covering them up to hide them from hungry predators.