Shannon's Beach

Shannon sat on the gleaming golden sands of the south beach of her own private island. She was outstretched on a folding bed chair, book on her flat stomach, hands folded on top with her margarita beside. She wore her large ultra dark blue-and-white rim sunglasses, fading out the intense sun above. The cool air passed over from the ocean before her, the smooth sound of low tides swept past.

Shannon felt as though she awoke from a long restful night, all the cares in the world faded with each passing moment. It was just her and her beach, the waters, her book of sappy romance and her margarita. She reached for it, leaning up to take another sip. “Mmm.” She mumbled, letting out a relaxed sigh. Her sunscreen caused her body to glisten in the sun’s rays. Her hair was a gorgeous mix of red, auburn and amber, eyes a sapphire blue. A few freckles danced across her face, appearing with the sun.

Whenever she was on the beach of her island, everything changed. Everything was different. Everything was simply...better. The book she read didn’t matter, the chair she brought, the drink she sat with, none mattered. Although, the sun was always bright, the wind was always soothing, the sand was always nice and hot, and the water was always the perfect temperature.

Sometimes she would stroll along the beach, grab some coconuts from the palm trees that ran all along the edge of the land. Shannon would see all sorts of critters that lived there, none would bother her, all were independent as she was. The monkey swinging from the trees inland, the crab crawling along the sands, or the hermit crab searching for a new shell. Sometimes Shannon would find a nice shell, and place it beside him, giving the hermit crab a new home.

She walked and walked, the sun spilling all along her beach, warming her skin and her life. The smooth breeze and waters calmed her nerves, soothed her mind so that she may finally return to the grind beyond her paradise.

“Shannon?”

She heard the call. That upsetting, disturbing call from beyond.

“Shannon!” Her boss yelled.

She woke to her computer, which went to sleep as she daydreamed about her island again. Frederick stared down at her with his greasy mustache and thick rimmed glasses, furrowing his brow. “You shouldn’t day dream at your desk. Back to work.” He growled as he walked away. Shannon looked around her, to her plain desk, her coffee, her mousey hair. Is this how I want to live? She thought. There must be more. She wished she could do more art on the side, which she hadn’t gotten a bite for in quite awhile.

RING RING

           It was her cell phone. “Hello?” She asked in a brittle tone. it was Callidan Forsythe, the head of Lore international. He saw her freelance work she had been working on for a couple of companies on the side for graphic design, and wanted to offer a full-time position when he saw her application. She completely forgot about that! She looked down the office lane to Frederick, knowing her path. “Yes, I will accept.” She said calmly, attempting to keep her excitement in check. Goodbye, customer service, she thought, Hello, my Island!

Off the Walls

You sit in your seat, bouncing off the walls. “How is that possible?”, one would ask.

You sit, or you would seem to, yet you bounce all over room, shaking, maneuvering, bouncing. You can’t calm down, you can’t come to. Anxiety grips you.

You shake, you clatter and clank.

Why is it all worth it, you ask? The secret lies between the lines. It’s worth it because you want it.

To write, to live, to love.

You wish to feel safe, yet safety comes in numbers.

One. The clothes in which you wear.

Draped over you like a cloak, a shield. Warming you from the colds of the world, the frigid fear that grips you day-by-day.

Two. In the door you close.

You close the door to the room, drowning out the sounds of the world, barring others from entering, from speaking, from badgering you with any word you wish not to hear.

Three. In the music you seek.

Phones set to your ears, echoing sounds with soothe whether they are harsh, calm, mellow, or rugged. Not only do they alone soothe the mind, but to drown out the sounds of the outside, the world, the workplace, the schoolyard. These are the most vital of your count, the most important of your guard. They enable you to delve into another world, formed within your imagination, through the images, people, voices you create from the tones transported from speaker to eardrum.

In all, you feel safer. The shaking stops, your mind calmed, your soul refilled.

You slip into dreams, of fire, of gods, of kings, so the next day you may awake, to brave the world once more.

To bounce once more, off the walls.

The first date

Sarah quickly prepped herself before the big date. She spoke to this new gentleman on the dating website she frequented. He seemed, nice, funny, successful, and his pictures looked pretty great, too. No ab shots, no fish pictures. She finished her day at the office, delving through clients and witnesses for the next trial she had on board.

This guy, Brandon, was an engineer. A chemical engineer, making fancy chemotherapy treatments for patients. It seemed so interesting, and so rewarding! He spent his time reading, going on trips, writing, playing music, everything! He seemed so driven, so creative, so nice. Sarah wrote a bit, keeping up a blog on healthy foods and decoration ideas, posting daily about her different crafts and works, while she wasn’t attempting to win cases. She went to the gym, ate well, did whatever she could to fulfill her life. She was excited to meet Brandon, who seemed so similar. He loved eating interesting meals and delicacies, trying out new restaurants, new things as a whole! It all seemed so exciting.    

Am I ready? She thought. Carefully looking in the mirror, she looked bomb, and she knew it. She wore an elegant summer dress, ocean blue and lemon yellow, dropping to her ankle. Her light freckles danced across her face and perky nose, along with her long wavy black hair. She couldn’t wait to see him in person, they had been talking for a couple of weeks. He was tall, Six two, black hair like hers, with chestnut brown eyes.

She glanced at her watch - 7:25. No! She thought. She had to meet Brandon at 7:30 at the coffee shop down the street. It was mid-summer, a sunny twenty five degrees outside. As she skipped out of her high-rise apartment, she almost tumbled on the stairs outside.

She bolted down the street, barely making it to the coffee shop in time. She glanced around, not seeing Brandon anywhere. I guess he’s late, Sarah thought. She walked to a table, and was about to sit down before she saw a man across the shop wave at her. He was short, but a little taller than her. A little broad, not fit but not overweight, with sandy brown hair and a thick beard. Why is he waving at me? She thought.

“Sarah!” He called in a gruff tone.

She walked over slowly, glancing around, confused. “Um, do I know you? I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“It’s me, Brandon!” He said.

What? It looked nothing like him. Brandon was fit, black haired and definitely no beard. “You look very different than your pictures.” Sarah said suspiciously.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t mean to hide it, kinda self-conscious and all. Can you forgive me?” He asked. His blue eyes looked hopefully at her.

Sure, that’s okay I guess. I may not continue this, but I might as well stay and talk. It’s not his looks, but the fact that he lied before we even met. I was completely honest in my profile. “Sure, I came here for coffee, didn’t I?” Sarah sat down, and ordered her coffee from the waitress. 1 sugar, 2 milk, always. No cinnamon or pumpkin spice, she didn’t need any of that ridiculous kid stuff. He got a green tea, no milk or sugar or anything.

Brandon was more charming than she expected, he talked about his job, his hobbies, especially two that she didn’t hear about before. He was really into writing and illustrating comics, as well as designing characters for various stories. He had a blog as well, “Epiclydraun” - about all his reviews and characters he designs. He mentioned he was considering leaving and trying his hand at having a hobby as his work.

She talked about her job as a lawyer, some of the nefarious characters she had to deal with over her career thus far. She had only been in the line of work for a few years, but racked up a lot of experience in that time. He seemed very interested in her hobbies, her blog, her comings and goings. He seemed so kind, and very funny. Not too fierce with his humour, and seemed quite confident in his hobbies, but less so about his engineering. I wonder why?

After a time she checked her watch - 9:30! She had been so wrapped up in conversation for so long, she needed to get home and get ready for bed, she worked at 8 the next morning. “I’m sorry Brandon, I have to go. I had such a fun time!” Sarah exclaimed.

“I’m sorry Sarah, that isn’t...actually my name.” Not his name? Another lie? “It’s Craig.”

“I’m Brandon.” A deeper, hoarse voice said.

She looked to her left, seeing the man in the picture before her. Her eyes widened, unsure of what to think. What the hell? “What’s going on here?” She asked.

“I can’t trust people to be as they are online, so I set this up, with a coworker of mine. Thanks Craig.” He paused, smiling. “I’m sorry that I had to do it, but you know. Would you forgive me and maybe we can have a second - or I suppose first date?” He asked with a honeyed tone and a wide smile.

Excuse me? Who do you think I am? She thought. She looked to Craig, who had a sullen look on his face. He clearly did the other a favour, but felt bad about what happened. He seemed to have so much fun just chatting with her. “Absolutely not.” She said boldly.

“What?” Brandon was taken aback.

“You heard me. You set me up on a fake date because you didn’t trust me? How should I trust you?” She quickly grabbed her bag, “Get bent.” She couldn’t believe what happened. Such a dishonest person so boldly asks something like that? Sarah swung the door open, but before she left, she had one last thing to say. “Oh yeah, of the two of you, I would definitely date Craig. He’s passionate and nice, and clearly feels some form of remorse, unlike you.” She left without saying another word.

She stormed back to her apartment, throwing her purse on her couch and sat down leisurely. Ridiculous. Talked to a guy for two weeks, and that happened. She turned on her laptop, typing her daily blog post out. She talked about the food she ate that day, and ended on her experience with the coffee shop. 

She found herself checking the blog “Epiclydraun”, where various artists were commenting on all the characters on the website. They were all really cool, swords, lightning, neat outfits and reviews on all sorts of comics and movies - it seemed to be quite the popular site. At the bottom it read - created by Craig Nanedis. She found herself messaging the creator, telling him about an experience that day, and mentioning it was more fun than she expected.

The Parasite Inside

I enter, slowly but surely. My life is but a blink in the eye of the world, My existence a necessity to the food chain, the eternal circle. Humans feel I am useless, a worthless piece of biology that worsens their lives. I thrive on their minds, their energy, they are my sustenance. Humans, a foolish species who claim dominion over my planet, all our planet, as they deem themselves the evolutionarily superior. But alas, number of chromosomes, or presence of a frontal lobe do not make one successful. It is your ability to ration, your ability to maintain ecological homeostasis, your ability to change, adapt, become one with the food chain.

Humans are foolish, a species which revels in philandry, materials and extraneous ephemera. What respect have they gained? My species lives superior, thriving on them. Their essence, their most precious piece. We are inside them, hiding among them as they walk to work, to school, to their deathbeds.

I found the one I will take for myself, auburn hair, chestnut brown eyes. As intelligent as the rest, of no worth. We control those we take, doing as we wish while embedded in their precious minds.

What is this? This human is different. She feels the pain of others, wishing to exterminate all material need, to further the planet, not the people, to maintain its homeostasis over gathering goods over and over as all the others do. Her mind is mine. I do what I will.

She does not do that which I hate. She does not buy, she does not fear, she does not hate. Why did I infect her mind, her soul? To do nothing? My species seeks to control the human race, slowly but surely, to save the planet, and to further our survival. We control every movement, every thought, every emotion.

This woman, I do not wish to change. I do not want control. She is everything I hope for, everything I need. I can change her mind as my will commands, her movements as I wish, but I choose to let her be. We are connected, as one. I am miniscule as a cell, but more complex than the humans can imagine. Humans are so simple, so blatantly vain that they cannot see their survival is compromised by their own hands.

Shae is her name. I do not wish to change it. I find my other comrades in arms, controlling their humans, boys, men, women of all races. Changing their personalities, their ways, all to further survival. They reject me as I do not control mine, nor her me, We live together in euphoric harmony, I in her mind, her in the world.

I thrive from her thoughts, her soulful mind, her perfect personality. My desire to be the parasite I was born dissipated the moment we bonded.

Yet she will never know me, never know my name. I live, a single cell, deep within her mind. I am rejected for my love of her.

We are one, yet she may never know.