Piercing spikes, elongating into points of despair. Brown lines of decay encircle the bottom. White rocks pollute the dehydrated soil, strangling the remaining beads of coveted water. Dry, brittle soil forms; only watered when a glance of sympathy passes by. There begins a slight lean to the side because the roots give up their battle.
I lean to the side because I refuse to be like others anymore. Feigning happiness, talking gayly, concerned with nothing more than appearance; leaning is looked down upon. Giving up the battle to be like everyone else; I will not conform. I lean as this product of nature because it is my will to do so.
Points of despair will not be touched by anyone, voluntarily at least. People travel around them and avoid contact in all circumstances. I am this point because I know no one. Gazes of mysticism and intrigue fall upon me, but nothing more. The point never receives a handshake of friendship, nor do I.
Browns lines of decay because I realize the futility of it all now. When completely watered, there is no thought of starvation; a scarcity of water produces drastic images.It was never meant for this product of nature, nor I, to live a blissful life on the shelf; therein lies the realization.
With water soaked up once again, the soil becomes dry again. The amount of brown decay increases and leaves less of the healthy green. A passing glance provides no insight, one must look deeper. With jagged spikes extending the picture takes form: I am a cactus living on my shelf.
Cool air twirls flirtatiously around my body as I sit watching the majestic clouds roll back. A kaleidoscope of blues, violets, and sun drenched reds merge to form a halo over the setting sun. Jagged rocks peak above the shimmering water, covered with age old algae. The snow capped waves dance playfully over each other, beckoning me with their harmonic music.
I slowly rub the sand between my fingers and feel the cool smoothness. Suddenly, a glacial wave glides over and the sand morphs into ice, cold and hard to my touch. Even as I stand to move away the frigid water rushes hastily over my feet, chilling me instantaneously. The frozen handprint of the withdrawing wave holds tight to me and refuses to depart.
The pungent odor of the ocean wafts around me mercilessly and forbids any respite. Closing my eyes I breath in the crisp air and salt, trying to remember the felicitous gatherings here. I think of times long ago when I play here as a child, merry and gay, beaming vibrantly as the waves splash upon me. The invitation to be jubilant and carefree as I run with the waves is still open, but it is different now as night sets in.
A forboding gloom descends upon the place; peace and serenity take flight in the wind. With increasing temerity the wind releases a demoniacal howl as it rips ferociously across the blackness of the ocean. Indefatigable, the tempestuous waves surge over the beach and kidnap each remaining grain of bronzed sand.
I think of this spot on the beach as a joyous one overflowing with childhood memories. As I turn to leave I know I will never return to the splendor that it was. For some child this place will bring unceasing happiness; therefore, I will gladly pass it on to them. I look back wistfully one final time and try to capture an image that I will remember forever. Hovering over the ocean with luminous moonlight casting down, I see the furtive glance of the moon steal my cherished memories.
Paper scattered carelessly on the cold linoleum floor stares up at me. The dried remnants of an iced cappuccino clings to the inside of two Moroso Motorsports cups; a clear straw leans against the rims of both. They sit on my biology book, on the floor to the right. Peering farther away, I see an overturned plastic Kool-Aid cup near my fallen golf clubs. A forest green marsmallow munchie wrapper, and an empty bag of animal crackers lay in the bottom of the trash can; snacks from the previous night.
A swarm of books, notebooks, and computer parts lay on the bed behind me, leaving no place to sit. My hazelnut candle is placed precariously near the edge, daring to fall if touched. Looking under the bed, I see an old Burger King bag and more crumpled notebook paper. The sides to my computer's tower, which holds the hard drive, leans against the foot of the bed. Beyond this, in the corner, is an old and very dirty rocking chair where my dog lays.
An outdated, four by five inch 1996 Far Side calendar is on top of the computer tower to my left. Used as a coaster, water stains cause the paper to crimp and become hard. Two purple shells and two green stars float in my tall glass of Luzianne iced tea, which is placed on the coaster. A game for Game boy, Kirby's Pinball Land, and 3.5" floppy disks lay on the tower behind my Far Side coaster.
Turning my gaze forward, I see the horrific mess that is my desk. Cut out holes of paper and bits of acetate pollute the area behind my keyboard. I cringe as I look farther to the right, and wonder what cyclone hit to cause this clutter. A spoon with crusted foam from a cappuccino sits next to a transparent yellow cup; the Cheerios cup. Band-Aids, matches, Scotch tape, and a stapler all huddle together in the confusion that is my desk. Pure terror grips me as I think about what could be in the madhouse of the desk drawer, which I will not open.
Hazelnut, aroma roasted and delectable, gradually rises into the air. Encompassing the room the steam leaves its hazelnut kiss on every object. Flashes of light illuminate the area as the flame jumps around fiercely, trying not to be extinguished by the oncoming air. I turn the fan away and watch while the ardent flame stands tall once again, no longer in danger.
The deep blue base of the flame tightly surrounds the wick, protecting it. Fiery orange tops the blackened wick as it burns slowly downward into the liquid wax. Miniscule pieces of charred wick swim around the deepening pool of wax, looking to escape. I dip my finger in the edge and watch as a hazelnut scented shell quickly forms.
Smooth ivory wax encircles the top half of the candle, silky and warm to my touch. Dark, espresso colored coffee beans protrude, forming a belt around the bottom half of the candle. Rough and broken apart, the coffee beans hug closely together. Leaning over the candle, I inhale the sweet hazelnut and blow it out; puffs of gray smoke say farewell.
An Unceasing Moment in Time
Silence circles around the room, broken only by the monotonous creaking of the ceiling fan. Hot, muggy air surrounds me; minuscule beads of cool sweat form on my face. I turn on another fan and sigh as the cold air rushes hastily towards me. Suddenly, faint music from the television distracts me, causing me to further digress from my project. My mind utterly off task, I turn to my candle and light it. The glowing flame illuminates the darkened room. I lean over the candle and smell the sweet aroma of hazelnut as it rises upward.
Turning back to the glow of the computer screen, I continue typing. I tap rhythmically on the smooth keys and abruptly stop. The words to write evade me and flee from my helpless mind, allowing no thought to form. The cursor blinks unceasingly, hypnotizing me. I watch as it flashes black quickly, then becomes invisible. I cannot turn my eyes away. Meanwhile, the keyboard taunts me with all the words it could write. If only I could think of a relevant sentence to add; none come to my mind.
I sit motionless for a prolonged period of time, not touching the computer. Morphing into a starfield simulation, the previous paragraphs disappear. Tiny stars race across the screen and increase in size. Ultimately they perish, speeding past and fading away. I become bored with the screen saver and move the trackball. I watch as my words instantaneously pop back up on the screen. I take a deep breath and relax a moment longer, then return my attention to the tiresome job of writing.
"What are you going to write about?" the teacher asks in a perky voice.
I smile pathetically, not knowing what to say. I sit without moving, aware of only two things. One, that the faces of the entire class are staring at me, waiting impatiently for me to answer. The second, that the teacher wants a reply; a reply that will not come. Smile broadening, I laugh lightly.
"I have no idea," I reply uneasily.
"You have no idea?" she asks again.
"No," I answer, thinking this is becoming repetivive.
At this point the teacher releases her long list of questions.
"No one close to you has been sick?"
"No."
"No one close to you has died?"
I shake my head. The answer is no, again.
"Have you ever fallen down and scraped your knee?" a student chimes in jokingly.
I laugh somewhat. I am becoming annoyed, it does not matter what she suggests; I will not find a topic.
"You know I once had a student, I'm not saying this is you, but she thought her life was perfect. She actually thought that her life was perfect, nothing bad had ever happened," the teacher exclaims.
I smile and say nothing.
"Think on it," she says happily," no pressure."
"No pressure, you only fail if you don't turn the paper in," another student adds.
Great, no pressure.
Thinking back on that, I still have no idea what to write. Two hours have wasted away and I am no closer to being finished. Thoughts come to mind just long enough to tease me. They promptly leave and I have no inkling as to what they bring. I sit once again staring blankly at the computer screen, hoping to derive some thought that has not been brutally kidnapped.
I listen, irritated, as the melodious rain beats against the roof. Luminous white light flashes in my room as lightning hits in the distance. Vociferous thunder crackles as the wind lets out an ominous howl outside my window. Silence gone, I am plagued by the madness of the thunderstorm. Unable to concentrate I long for a moment of rest, which does not come.
I turn on my lamp and blow out the candle. I watch as puffs of gray smoke leave the extinguished wick. The pool of liquid wax quickly begins to harden as the cool air of the fan blows upon it. I resist the temptation to press my finger against the silky top of the drying wax, breaking it open.
Outside the rain begins to lighten up and an eerie calm descends over the neighborhood. Dark puddles of water are collected in the driveways as a reminder of the departing storm. The blazing sun slowly emerges with stinging rays. A vibrant rainbow flaunts a kaleidoscope of colors over the houses. Unsheilded from the sunlight, the iridescent water sparkles and will soon evaporate.The final signs of the storm depart in the clouds and the day transforms back to radiant light.
With each passing minute that I spend at the computer trying to write, the more lost I become. I am unsuccessfully trying to write about a painful moment in my life. All coherent thought abandoned me an hour ago.This time that I have spent here has caused my mind to become completely blank.
As I sit in the dark once again, I relinquish any hope of finding a suitable topic. This has been a painful moment in itself, all four and one half hours of it. This has shown me that increasing the amount of time I spend on a project just culminates into more confusion on my part. I will say farewell to this moment, and I sincerely want never to return.
Mosquitoes buzz around in increasing numbers. They swarm together and patiently wait for the opportunity to draw my blood. The air is hot and humid. Closing around me, the air becomes suffocating. A dry, parched mixture of dirt and sand clings to my feet and legs.
I look to my tent, hoping to derive some small comfort once inside. I quickly walk over to the tent, but stop before entering. Brushing the sand and dirt off my legs, I soon realize the act is futile. No matter how hard I try, a miniscule amount will remain. I kneel down on the dry ground and crawl inside.
Coarse dirt and sand is scattered throughout my tent. A sigh of exasperation escapes me. Angrily, I brush away the detested grains from my sleeping bag. No comfort will come to me in this mosquito infested forest, I give up. I dream wistfully of the city, longing for air conditioning.
The delectable aroma of barbecued hot dogs enters my tent. The scent spins around my nose, attempting to entice me; to draw me out of the tent. I inhale deeply and relish the smell. The grilled taste of hot dogs forms in my mouth. Stomach winning, I depart from the safety of my tent. I try to enjoy my hot dog while fighting mosquitoes. Each bite I take slowly, savoring the taste.
The surrounding air is no longer hot as night sets in. A calm settles over the forest and the animals of the night emerge. I retreat into my tent once again, dreaming of my journey back to civilization the next day. Closing my eyes, I vow never to return to the untamed wilderness.
