Seize The Day

Dali Heart was stuck in a time loop.

It wasn't as sanity crushing as others might think. She honestly hadn’t even realized she’d been in one until three weeks, when she suddenly realized how strange everything was. Dali had been in a rut for most of her adult life- wake up, go to work, rewatch Briscoe County, sleep. But eventually, Dali realized that something was very wrong. It dawned on her after she had tried to steer a conversation with her mother to another topic, and her mother started stuttering, until she eventually forcefully returned the conversation back to their original topic. A topic they'd discussed the day before, and the day before that. Then she realized that the date never changed . . . and she was reliving the same day.

It was . . . distressing, at first. She would sneak out of the office after an hour, hop on to the local trolley and ride it to the beach that was always empty in the fall. She would bury her face into her knees and weep. She would return home and scream and wail, destroying everything in her apartment. But the great thing about a time loop is that she can take her time to process the rage at the unfairness, the grief at being unable to see her loved ones, the desperation that grows with each failed attempt at breaking the time loop.

Eventually, she got used to it.

Dali stopped going into work, opting to fill her days with indulging in every whim that came to her mind. She tried every cafe, restaurant, and bar in the city. She scoured through her Pinterest boards and created the outfits she’s always admired but never felt worthy of, and kept her chin tilted up no matter how many eyes were on her. She grew bolder, more creative. She started chatting with strangers, social battery amped up to overflowing now that she wasn’t letting her job drain her energy, and doling out compliments like t hey were Halloween candy.

Dali took day trips to nearby cities, as far as she could drive that would allow her a few hours to enjoy that area’s offerings before the d ay reset. She had hard, emotional, one-sided conversations with her parents and friends. Talking over the harm they’d done to her, and the harm she’d done to them, despite the conversation being one-sided. Lanced wounds, and allowed the release of words to create space for healing.

She spent upwards of $500 to decorate her apartment into the cliche Halloween set-up of her dreams. It took her three hours to do, and this would all be gone in the morning, she knew, but- that wasn’t the point. Knowing that time was, in a sense, limited, taught her the value of cherishing life. Living for the moment! Adulthood had- via long work hours, financial constraints, and sheer mental overload- robbed her of simple things like getting excited over the holiday. Dali blasted 30's Halloween songs, drank wine, and laughed until the day reset.

The next day, she decided to spend the day at the beach. Dali arrived at the beach before noon and planned to stay until moonrise.

A plan that was quickly derailed when, an hour into her novel, something appeared at her side. She felt it immediately, an energy she could feel creep around a nd embrace her in its uncanniness, a smell that was either petrichor or woodsmoke.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Dali wasn’t sure whether she heard the voice in her head, or actually heard it with her ears. It was dark, smooth and yet something rumbled, it echoed through her bones. It wasn’t human. She turned her head at the wisps of visible energy that fluttered from the being, like smoke. Ebony skin shone beautifully against his layered black robes. His pale eyes looked at her with affection, but she’d never met him in her life.

“It is,” Dali agreed quietly, plucking at the loose thread on the blanket she’d adorned. “Real quick, what are your pronouns?”

A rumbling bass chuckle sent tingles licking up her spin and across her shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that . . . he/they?”

“Cool, cool . . .” Dali muttered, looking back to the gentle sea.

“I am sorry it has taken this long,” they started, knuckles coming up to brush against h er arm. “But . . . we need to be sure the soul is properly prepared."

Dali wasn’t sure what they were talking about. “Are you playing hooky with me?”

Their laughter was louder this time, a shining chorus of percussion and thunder that made her cheeks warm. “Dali Heart, you sweet thing, I’m taking you on.” H e answered, grin wide and pleased.

“On?” Dali repeated. She felt something brushing along the edge of her awareness . . . a memory . . .

“Yes,” they reached a hand out, and Dali met it in the middle, clasping the cool appendage. “You remember, don’t you? What happened the day before this? Hush,” they soothed, wiping away the sudden onslaught of tears pouring from Dali’s tightly shut eyes. “It was half an hour before lunch-”

“It happened so fast, I just remember the sound- for only a second . . .” Dali mumbled through her tears. She had been one of the first victims, but her mind conjured the details she’d missed through past news footage and movies. The screams, and the destruction.

T he hand she clasped squeezed her own. “I’m so sorry, Dali.”

They said nothing more, and the two of them sat there on the beach. They listened to seagulls pass overhead, to the purrs of engines, and to a life that Dali was no longer a part of. They sat there until the sun started to dip into the sea, o cean turning wine dark.

Dali took a deep breath and looked over at Death. “Thanks. Let’s go.”

Hey, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this piece! If you did, you'll probably like the fourth piece in this disconnected series: When Aliens Attack! Enjoy the read~