James lived a life hunched over, walking in and out of the desolate bodegas in his neighborhood. He enjoyed candies and was always looking for new ones. He moved slowly so that others were always trying to get around him. He sat for hours outside of these bodegas, eating his candy wondering if things would ever be different. He wished to be healed, he wished to stand up in a way where he could finally speak and look directly at others, two things he struggled with his whole life. He also wished to not be such an asshole, but he didn’t quite understand himself enough to change it. Sometimes he cried himself to sleep, especially when he saw the faint figure of a child in his bedroom, in the middle of the night. At these times his sister Abigail would be on the line, knowing well what had happened but unable to speak or do anything about it. Abigail was a Shaman living in the mountains and owned a retreat center nearby. She beckoned her brother but he rejected her help. Sometimes she cried on the phone with James while her husband held her in bed.
I live but I ain’t really livin, you know what I’m sayin, James said to one particular Moroccan man behind the counter. Those who have faith and whose hearts find peace in the remembrance, truly it is in the remembrance that hearts find peace, was all the man kept saying in his native Darija tongue. I don’t know what in the hell you are sayin sir, I just couldn’t know it. I ain’t from your country! he said, slamming his hands on the counter. Fuckin people, James muttered as he stepped outside with his candies. He walked across the street toward a bench but noticed some kids nearby, covering it with garbage. Dirty old man, dirty old hunchback! We brought you your trash, they laughed while walking away. James shook his head while pushing a french fry container off the bench. Fuck em! He sat for a while quietly then ate his candies as usual. As he glanced down to read the label “TON’IK,” it began to go blurry. He did not feel well and immediately made his way back home.
Down an alleyway he went, the last one before he reached his apartment, fainting onto some soft garbage bags. James awoke in a black scene. Everything around him was black, and he held himself for warmth. Light pieces of black matter floated down, like snow. This feels like home he said to himself, as he stood up and began to walk. He looked down at his chest stomach then legs. He held his hands in front of him, staring, as he continued to walk through seeming nothingness. I’m walkin like I want to, I’m, I’m walkin the way I should be! he yelled. Throwing his hands up, Woohoohoo! his voice echoed. As he continued to walk with a newfound confidence, pieces of the black matter became larger, falling onto his body and attaching to it. James became weak, weighed down, and his breath became short. No! What’s happenin to me? he winced. He then saw a little boy in the distance, facing away, sitting on the ground, playing with a Qur’an. It was the same figure he’d seen many a night in his bedroom. The little boy turned his head to look at James, stressed and panicked. He stood up as James continued to sink lower and lower from the black matter, back into his hunched state. The boy shook his head and cried until he was red in the face. It’s ma, it’s pa, was all he said, and James began to hear the voices of his parents. The little boy kept trying to push James up so that he could stand again, but the boy was too small. He was too scared. He was just a boy, looking at his future self, unable to change his fate.
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Thank you for reading. Some updates:
I am currently out of the country with a ton of inspiration coming my way for my upcoming work and stories on here.
Wherever I go I am learning to bring myself with me, in both spirit and physical. Bring who you are, wherever you are as it can be a matter of life and death.
A beautiful black cat greeted me last night.
