A Cerebral Mosh's Stories

Magic Hour

2008-02-17T23:18:34Z

The early Sunday evening seemed to be full of blue light as I walked out of my dining hall to the library. Blue light, like fairy light. I felt like Tinkerbell should be coming out of the clouds to perch on my shoulder and tell me naughty jokes. Magic weighed heavily on the air, and I breathed it in deeply, hoping to capture this moment in my mind.

Questions.

2008-02-17T20:55:44Z

What is a Barnes and Noble store doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Seriously. It doesn’t need to be out here. I boggle at it through the car windshield, wondering if my eyes could possibly be deceiving me and playing a strange joke. But no, there it is, with the blazing hot desert behind it, and snow-capped mountains off in the distance. Why is it here?

Relief [I'd love to see someone pick this up!]

2008-02-17T19:51:31Z

I stare at the chart blankly. I can’t even begin to register my shock. I can’t feel anything anymore, with all the poking and prodding and tests after tests after guessing. I look up at the smiling doctor, his glasses glinting and his white coat seeming to shimmer before me.

“So…I don’t have cancer?”

And it’s only after he nods that I start to feel the exhaustion and relief creep into my deadened eyes.

Beach Dance

2008-02-17T19:45:36Z

She raced her horse down the beach, sand flying up in their faces as the hooves thundered against the ground. His dark mane whipped against her face, scalding her nose, and she laughed. She pulled him to a stop and foam flew as he skidded into a tidal pool, upsetting crabs and minnows. He picked up his feet and trotted in place just for the fun of it, water exploding under his powerful, sinewed legs and cascading over his back, drenching them both. They stood still as one for a moment then, his sides heaving, the sun coming up to halo over their heads. She patted his arched neck, and then the two began to waltz across the morning-gilded ground again.

Empty

2008-02-17T19:28:59Z

I watch the dark house.

Somewhere far from here, one of the occupants is lying in a hospital bed frozen with pain. His parents and sister are clustered around him, but he doesn’t want to see any of them. His mother is suffocating, his father is distant and no help, and his sister is getting bored. He wants me, but I’m stuck here with no way to get to him.

I feel so helpless. He calls me an angel, but what kind of angel can I be if I can’t make his pain go away? So I call him one more time, to hear his agony-cracked voice whisper my name as he slips into morphine dreams. “I’ll be here when you get back,” I tell him.

And so I watch the house with its blank windows and lifeless lights, and I pray.

When the Raccoons Came to Visit

2008-02-17T19:03:24Z

The lawn feels good under my back, spiky and cold as I look up at the night exploding with color.

“Hey, look,” Mom says, pointing. “Raccoons across the street.”

I glance up at the furry little creatures, making their curious noises that always have reminded me of a vacuum cleaner. They’re nosing around our neighbor’s trash cans, and one of them hones in on us.

“Hey, I think they’re crossing the street and saying hi to us,” I say in my eight year old exuberance for anything fluffy and animal-like.

“Oh crap,” Mom mutters under her breath as the group of striped hoodlums ambles across the quiet road. “RUN!” She picks me up by the back of my shirt and tosses me to my feet.

“Wha—why?” I ask.

“They could have rabies!” she replies breathlessly as I join her in a run down the driveway to the safety of the house.

We never did get to watch the rest of the fireworks that night.

Revolution

2008-02-17T18:46:52Z

She turned around, slowly. One revolution. Then another. Maybe if she kept turning, she reasoned to herself, she’d just Apparate away and float off into the night. She just wanted to feel normal, like things were the way they were supposed to be. A real revolution, not just a spin, but something to completely change her life, all their lives. She whirled around once more, her arms open to the sky above in a silent plea. The gods heard.

Alone

2008-02-17T18:42:58Z

Like smoke he’s still so absent. ...............................

Patience

2008-02-17T18:39:53Z

She raises her weary head as she hears her Buddy List door open for the hundredth time all day. Maybe now. She flicks her cursor and brings up the list. Scans the small, vertical screen with her eyes. No. It’s someone else. She goes back to what she was doing, dropping her eyes to her book.

Again, she hears the door, a few minutes later. Maybe now. Please maybe now. She’s going crazy from not talking to him for five days. She can just imagine him alone in some cold hospital bed, jury-rigging his laptop up with clammy fingers, his arms nearly too heavy to lift to touch the keys. But no. Still not him. Refinds her place on the page, runs a hand through her hair. It needs a wash. Just a little longer, though, she thinks.

An hour later, she’s switched playlists three times, checked her mail five times, and finished the book. He’ll just be out of luck, she thinks to herself. As she goes to push her laptop away, the door opens again. His name in bold.

“Hey love,” he says.

“Hey, yourself,” she says, grinning.