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Stain Glass

a day in the life of me

By Jennisea RedfieldPublished 3 years ago 11 min read
1
Stain Glass
Photo by Sayan Ghosh on Unsplash

9 am. Currently, I am just lying in bed, complementing the existence of my life. I look at the blank white wall, frowning as blue and yellow insects appear to flutter and scribble patterns into the pebbled surface. Many of the bugs are the shades of jewels and have eerie humanoid eyes. The worst thing: I know they are not real. Just a bunch of fabricated, animated images my brain decided to conjure today. The bugs began to dance, and soon… the screaming starts.

I know how my day is going to be by the tone and type of screams I hear in the morning. Some days, it is a bundle of chilling sounds, like the dying symphony of pregnant women. Other days, it’s a bitter and angry sound. Today is good. The screams are in the tone of fun fear, like the sound of people on a roller-coaster, or a so called “haunted” house. I can always imagine I am at a County fair, or a Halloween festival.

9:30 am. My phone goes off, cheery music from My Little Pony tells me to get up and start my day. I sigh and push off three cats and a clingy dog out of the bed, just so I can put on pants, and make breakfast. Not like it matters. The four animals I know are real, I have the scars to prove it.

My dog, a blue and black bastard who whines and paces to go outside. Breakfast now must wait. I chuckle as the annoying pest scurried in circles, trying to put on his own leash.

“I know Ben, I know. Give me a minute.” I whispered, no clue why I’m whispering. Ben howls now. He really must have to go. Slipping on a coat, and boots, I clip the mutt to his leash and proceeded to get dragged down three flights of steps, so he can take a piss. 112 dollars for doggy classes and he decides to not use said training and instead tries to be a sled dog or plow horse. He’s in no hurry right now, so the two of us dawdle around the front lawn of the apartment complex we reside in.

“Morning.” The friendly voice makes me jump, and I turn to face a tall, and goofy looking man who lives in the complex as well. By his feet was a dog the same breed as mine, or at least similar. I fake a smile, Too focused on the jewel bug on his shoulder.

“….hi.” I whisper. I seem to whisper a lot. The Goof smiles and reaches down to pet my blue son of a bitch. The traitorous dog yelps happily and tries to hump his leg. He just laughs, used to this by now I suppose. My face is tight with a fake grin, as I notice the jewel bug tap dancing on his nose now. Oops, he caught me staring.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. I shook my head, hoping to dislodge the images of the bugs from my sight, if only for a minute.

“N-nothing!” I said, albeit too loud and fast. Goof smiles.

“You’re having a sporadic day today, and there is something you see?” I sigh, relief echoes through my veins.

“Yeah.”

“What do you see today?” he asks.

“Bugs.” Goof sighs.

“You know they aren’t really there, right?” and now I’m pissed.

“I know that! You think I’m fucking blind to not see these little flying monsters?!” My good mood was now gone, so I take Ben and go back to my apartment, the dog whining as I drag his heavy ass home.

11:35 am. I still haven’t eaten anything. My anger long diminished, along with my appetite. Ben is happily scarfing down canned food mix with cooked burger and dry dog food. He belches. I smile. Pretty soon, my three beautifully, glossy black cats come out from where ever they were hiding. Trix, Meda and Midnight meowl and hiss for their food now. It doesn’t take long for them to be fed anyway, and soon all three are fat from tuna and cheese flavored canned food. I check the clock. 11:43. Only eight minutes passed from feeding Ben and feeding my three girls. I should eat something too, but I don’t.

12:05 pm. The screaming stops. This isn’t usually a good thing, something worse comes out when the screaming stops. I brace myself and look up from the book I was reading. She’s here.

I see a demoness. She is over seven feet tall and donning all black, A black plumed dress, black bodice and a black veil. She has wicked long talons, dipped in black paint…I hope. Her mouth is a death grin, black/red lips withholding jagged yellow teeth. Her eyes are so cold, so empty, and so, so…Red. Like looking into the depths of hell, or gazing into a pit of molten sin, sins you failed to stop from causing.

“Not today, please, not today.” I plead, mostly to myself as the demoness wails a chorus of broken laughter. Her voice no better than dying rabbits, or a death throe of a deer. Covering my ears does nothing, so I suffer. I gaze outside, my window wide open and sunny. Meda, Trix, and Midnight were sun bathing, content despite the miserable creature who haunts me. Ben was asleep on his back, all four red paws in the air, twitching from dreams and actual, live insects tickling his paw pads. Fuck. And now, the mental torture begins.

1:32 pm. She’s wailing now, a skin crawling sound as she caterwauls while I try to wash and scour a pot clean of burnt on foods. Ben is circling the cats, bored and possibly wanted to take a shit. There is knock at the door. Deciding to abandon my dishes to the hot, soapy water, I go answer the damn door.

“Hello?” I barely crack open the light-colored door. I smile. It’s just Nana. She is smiling, holding twin cups of coffee and a box of donuts.

“Hi Nana.” From the way she is frowning at me, I guess I don’t look so hot.

“When did you last eat?” she said, straight to the point. I shrugged.

“I dunno. Last night maybe?” Nana began muttering in Spanish, which I never understood. She smacked me across the forehead, not very hard, but enough to throw off my weak balance.

“Pendeja!” she snipped. THAT word I knew. Rolling my eyes, I step aside and followed her into my little apartment. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. My fattest cat, Midnight, waddled over to my Nana, asking for a petting. The other continued to snooze in the sun. Nana gave Midnight a scratch under the chin and stepped over her.

“You got flour?” she asked. I nodded. Nana grinned, her false teeth wriggling to get free.

“Good.” She took off her black sweater, tossing it at me. I just toss it on the couch. Nana grabs oil, baking powder and more flour. From the smell of the oil she is now heating up, I smile. She’s making frybread.

2:29 pm. Nana made me some frybread and sausage gravy. One of my favorite meals. However, as much as I want to just devour this meal, a bug is on it. The brightly colored pest was chewing my food, Its vivid blue eyes just maniacal as he give me a too human of a grin. There goes my appetite. I pushed my food away. Nana gives me a queer look.

“Mija, you’re not hungry?” she asked. I give her a weak smile.

“Not really. It’s just that…there’s a bug on my food.” Nana shuffled over and peered at my food.

“Good bug or bad bug?” she asked. I glared at the tap dancing beetle, its eyes a shimmering green and a humanoid mouth full of too many teeth, grinning at me as it uses my beloved food as its stage.

“Bad bug. Can I... can I just get some cocoa?” I asked. Nana nodded and removed my food.

“Of course, mija.” Nana places my food in the dingy microwave oven. I pray that suffocates the bad bugs. Not likely.

The difference between a good bug and a bad bug is this: A good bug is a real bug, such as flies, gnats and spiders. The bad bugs are the one who are my daily terrorists, the gaudy jewel like parasites with human eyes and human mouths. I can gladly eat my food or do shit with actual bugs. Spiders, no problem. My jewel insect… I might as well just stop.

Nana brought me my cocoa. I thank her, “Gracias.” She grins and replies, “De Nada.” Sipping my cocoa, I simply let out a sigh and snuggled into my well- worn couch. Closing my eyes, I just drift into quietness.

5:33 pm. Where did Nana go? Ben is gnawing on his back paw, oblivious to the human world. Rolling my eyes, I scan my tiny apartment for Nana. The three black cats were grooming each other, a pile of rough tongues and sleek fur.

“Nana?” I call out. Nothing. I stand, now realizing I have a blanket over my being. Oh. Apparently, I fell asleep. Folding the blanket, I scan the room once more for Nana. My eyes falling on a slip of paper magnetized to the fridge. Stepping over Ben, I reach for it.

Mija,

I went to the store for Tortillas and frijoles. There is some pollo and mole on the stove.

Please eat something.

Nana.”

Well, that explains why Nana isn’t here. Right now Ben is now up and running circles around my legs. He coughs and shakes his blue ticked head.

“Got to go….” I trailed. Ben perked up and basically yowled. I swear he is part cat. The border collie X is now whining and yipping, spinning in circles. I smile and went to grab his dirty leash.

Exiting the apartment, and traveling down three flights of stairs, and out three sets of doors, we were finally outside. Ben lurched my arm painfully towards the left, pulling so hard on his leash he was choking his stupid self. My arm hurts. The damn mutt is two years old and still a dipshit.

5:52 pm. Ben is satisfied, so are the cats. Nana is not home yet, but the demoness… she still lingers. As of now, the dark bitch is gallivanting across my living room, smearing black blood all over my furniture. She’s flinging coal black liquid over my television and raking her black tipped claws across my pets. I can see Trix and Meda, blood pools of sacred liquid evolving around their sleek, black fur. Great, now several of the freaky jewel bugs are leaving caricatures of kanji over my usually white walls, their spindly little feet dipping into the blackened blood like ink. The walls are now oozing the black fluid, staining my home with rivets of blood. I turn to look at my hands, they are stained black as well. Do I dare look in a mirror? I didn’t have to: The reflection of window just shows a simple picture.

I see me, brown hair flat and thick, grey eyes glazed from legal drugs, and pale tan skin marked with self-inflicted scars. I see a plump girl wrapped in a fuzzy penguin sweater, wearing short shorts and mismatched wool socks. But thank god…There is no blood or other gore on my skin. A mirror would probably gift me with delusions and frantic screaming. I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. Where’s Nana?

7:36pm. Nana is back. Her weathered face smiling, seeing that I ate something. She would know. I love mole. The lovable old woman patted my head and went to humming an old love song from Mexico. I felt my demoness slipping away to the background. From a menace to a mild nuisance.

“Mija, I’m glad you ate, but…” she trailed. I stood up walked over beside her. Despite being elderly and frail looking, she was taller and broader than I was.

“But what, Nana?” I ask. Nana smiled and gave me what I longed for… a simple hug.

“Are you taking your medicine?” she asked. I looked up to her from the rims of my bangs.

“I’m trying, but it’s hard. I don’t think I took them today.” My voice was meek. But, Nana understood. Scurrying over towards the medicine drawer, that quirky old woman pulled out three bottles of rainbow colored medications, taking a pill out of each one, and handed them to me with a glass of huckleberry water.

“Take your meds now, mija. And go sit on the couch.” She told me. I forgot the reason I’m medicated. Oh well. With a handful of chalky, bitter pills, I swallowed dry. Ugh. That hurt. I forgot I had water. I can hear Nana laughing at my dilemma. I just send her a glower.

8:07 pm. I’m calling it a night. Nana made some champurrado and tamarind before she left for the night. My mind is starting to fog from the sleeping medications, but I just unfurl on the couch and covered up in a heavy blanket. Ben was snoring away and Trix and Meda purring away. I glance into the corner, and my demoness is almost faded away into the night shadows. The screaming is muffled, now just the faintest of murmurs. I closed my eyes and slipped into blissful oblivion.

To be continued… maybe.

disorder
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About the Creator

Jennisea Redfield

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