Ophelia

after painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais

Drowning,
in a stream flooded by lamentation.
Bleak bloodless skin, drenched with dejection.
Floating in desolation, draped in floral woes.
Nomadic toward imminent abyss.
Hades beckoning into an obsidian eternity,
emigrating from dismembered affection.

Elane, Melony, and Petula

I don’t think you understand. I don’t know who I am.

There is one part of me that is full of life…almost too much life; she is elated. Let’s call her Elane. She is colorful and boisterous, unfortunately she is blind to consequences. When Elane comes around she doesn’t comprehend “no”. She is filled with adrenaline and caffeine. She will move one couch into 12 different positions and back to where it was originally. Elane laughs inappropriately and drinks obnoxiously. A drink in her hand equals the discomfort of another. Elane is brash, she speaks in scattered monologues.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Then there is the taxing state of melancholia. Let’s call her Melony. She does absolutely nothing. Melony lays in bed; too weak to stand. She is dull and she is closed up. Melony is unreasonable she tends to burst into tears at the drop of a pin. She is absorbed by empathy and steals shoes, that she walks miles in. Melony connects to lives and feels wholeheartedly. When her empathy empties and she can no longer feel, she feels nothing and she feels it completely. Melony is broken.

“Please just leave me alone.”

Then there is the petulant side. Let’s call her Petula. Petula lurks in Melony and Elane’s shadows. She waits for a trigger in order to strike. Petula has no friends she has ostracized herself. Petula overflows with unrealistic expectations. Being around Petula is like walking through a minefield. She cries from frustration, her head is a constant roller coaster of blood shot screaming faces. Petula doesn’t work well with others, she is irate and hard to control. She is startled easily and agitated by bedlam. Petula hates Elane And feels no pity for Melony.

“I am going to scream!”

I don’t think you understand. I don’t know who I am.

@Amy Myers

Is There Gravity at the Center of the Earth?

The center of the earth? Have you thought about what might lie beneath our always moving feet? Maybe there is a burning ball of lava, or maybe an ancient civilization that found a way to sustain life below. But, maybe there is nothing, just darkness. Archaeologist have spent hundreds of years digging and searching for ancient artifacts that can tell us about the history of the earth.

It’s time we find out what lies at the center of the earth. I plan to begin digging. All I need is a shovel and maybe a flashlight when it gets too deep. I should first put on some dirty sneakers so I don’t ruin my fresh new ones. Although, when I find the center I will become famous and be a millionaire so I can buy new shoes. In the garage we have a few different shovel choices. The snow shovel definitely isn’t going to work, the plastic would break once I get past the soil. Definitely the shovel my dad uses for gardening. I don’t want to dig too close to the tree, I need to let in all the light that I can. I ripped off a long piece of rainbow duct tape and wrapped the flashlight around my Disney World hat. Time to dig.

Several hours have past and I am estimated to be halfway through the core. The sweat has built up in my hat and I am so thankful for the flashlight. The darkness is enclosed around me. I look up to try and see sunlight, but there is nothing. With the light of the sun gone now I continue to dig. The dirt is flying around me and the ground is getting warm. I must be close to the center. What if it is molten lava? Oh boy it’s a good thing I wore my old sneakers. My fingers are becoming callused as I get closer and closer to the center of the earth. Finally, my shovel rings as it cracks against bare metal. I use my tired fingers to dust off the loose dirt.

The metal that almost broke my shovel is a heavy door with an iron lock. After smacking the lock a few times I break it and lift the door open. Below is a set of metal stairs that look almost new. Just as I take my first step the flashlight runs out of batteries. Shaking my hat doesn’t seem to bring it back to life. I am going to have to go back inside the house and find more batteries.  I should have brought extras down! Now I need to climb out a 1,000 foot hole to get batteries. I climb out of the hole and I am reminded of how nice the sun feels on cool skin. That hole is dark and damp and cold. I should grab a sweater too.

“Honey? What are you up to?”

“I am digging to the center of the earth.”

“Hmm…well dinner is almost ready.”

“MOM! I don’t have time! I need batteries and a sweater and I need to get back.”

“At least take a granola bar to the center of the earth, darling.”

“Fine.” She has no idea of the gravity of this situation. GRAVITY! I wonder what gravity is like at the center of the earth.

@Amy Myers

via Daily Prompt: Center

Greys

Don’t take it so seriously, take me seriously for once.
Don’t be so delicate, where is your heart?
Why are you so isolated, you’re too much to handle.
You need to relax, stand up; concentrate.
Black and sorrow or white and chaos.
Searching for grey.
An entire life wandering, seeking simplicity, peace.

Dark Hallways

With my hand hovering just above her lower back we rushed across a cobble stone street. The lights had long gone off. The only light was a flicker of the candles that lined the narrow openings. My shoes in my hand so that my feet were silent we leapt into the entry way and I knocked on the splintered wooded door. The darkness was surrounding us, it eerily touched our flesh as we waited impatiently at the doorway. With no sound the door popped open just enough for us to slip through. The lights were shining dimly, I could see the flicker of light bouncing off her wet golden hair. She rang the pony tail out just before I closed the door behind us. Her eyes were wide with fear. My brother, Blake, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the room to our left.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His face was hard and his voice short.

“I am helping her, Blake!” I looked over at her as she glanced around the room. “You don’t understand…” before I could explain he was cutting me off.

“I understand! But we cannot help her, you’re putting us all in danger” his hand was firm on my shoulder as he looked into my eyes.

“Well she is here now. I am not taking her back.” Blake’s face softened and he led the way out of the room.

“I’m sorry but, we can’t help you.” She looked at him and then at me, our eyes locked I could see panic in her eyes as she imagined heading back to her home. I couldn’t find words to explain to Blake that I would handle it. Her eyes fell to the floor. Before I could stop her she was out the door. I pushed Blake against a hard wall and fled into the street after her. My bare toes hit the cobblestones and my eyes adjusted as I peered down the street looking for her. She was gone.

. . .

I grew up in this dark hallway with small rooms. My mother and I shared a room, we had one bed and a small bathroom that we shared with the entire hallway of women and daughters. Each day the women left and we would play time passing games. I was content with the life, I had known nothing else. Two days ago I became a woman, a tall man with a bushy brown beard pulled me from the room that I once shared with my mother. I was sent away with the women in the morning and assigned to my husband. They instructed me to obey and provide. Once he was satisfied I was sent back and to return the next morning. I sat alone in my room imagining the pain my mother went through each day, I had no idea. With my mother gone I sat at the foot of my bed, tears dried to my cheeks. I do not know how to live this life without her. I imagined the comforting arms of my mother wrapped around me. When the lights went out I used my senses to make my way down the hallway. When I reached the end I climbed the cold metal stairs and opened the door, it took what little muscle was in my arms to push the large door open. The cold air whipped my face and the rain drenched my skin. With my eyes closed I walked toward the edge of the roof, I opened them just enough to see the steep drop from my toes to the ground. I turned, my back now facing the emptiness. With my arms stretched to my sides I squeezed my eyes closed and sucked in my last breath. Just as I felt my feet leave the ground a large warm hand wrapped around my wrist.

@Amy Myers