stories-n-shitt-blog

[stories-n-shitt-blog]

Dream 1

My bare feet smack against the hard concrete. I am running, breathing; barely breathing. Although this is the first time, I know in my heart that they’ve found me before. My body finds a routine that my brain is unfamiliar with, and follows a hidden path into the brush. I hide behind the thick green and wait for them to pass. I can hear their chants in the distance, their cries of injustice, as they march as one. Behind them a wall of bright orange grows at a dangerous rate, powered by the terror inside of them. The orange mass climbs the trees and devours houses, turning the lush green into ash. I take another look around and realize that I am not home. This shade of green does not belong to my world; the color, the life. I’ve never seen this place before. 

[stories-n-shitt-blog]

Chapter 1

“Melanie, accept what is to come. You are the only one to bear the burden of a burning heart; unison is power, yet none will control what is too far for them to achieve. Don’t fight it, they’ll never win.”

“Fuck,” I gasped, inhaling the strong scent of alcohol and blood.

“Don’t move, I’m almost done,” the artist said. My eyes strained as I looked around the familiar location. Tapestries designed with circles and triangles were hanging from the ceilings and walls. Wind chimes slowly swayed back and forth, creating a soft melody as they caressed each other ever so gently. Crystals glimmered in the corners of the room, reflecting the only light coming from two small salt lamps sitting side by side on a table. I felt the prick of a sharp object on my back and drew my breath in quickly to suppress the pain. Looking behind me, I saw a woman with harsh features hammering a needle into my back. Her dark eyes followed her hands with care, her face calm and wrinkled with experience. Piercings inhabited her eyebrows, nose, and lips as well as tattoos that almost completely covered her skin. However, what caught my attention was her hair. The deep blue that stained the top of her head was captivating. I stared hard at the short, choppy layers at which she seemed to have cut herself, and my eyes drowned in the dark ocean that I desired so much to possess. “Okay, your mark is finished,” she said as she cleaned off the blood and excess ink. I pushed myself up from the padded table and found that I was topless. “Hurry up, my next appointment is waiting.”

I threw on my shirt and nodded at her in thanks. She stepped aside as I pushed back the beaded curtain and walked out of the parlor. Sand crunched under my boots as  I pulled on my shirt to keep it from rubbing against my back. The mark was so tender, and it throbbed to the beat of my pulse, but the pain was a reminder of what is next to come. Three days before our eighteenth birthday, we are allowed our first mark to help us find our inner self. We are put through a reflective simulation to find what we value most, and our artist sketches a symbol to represent what she sees. The mark remains unknown to us until the day of the Coloring, the day our bodies finally accept our rightful spirit. After this day, there’s no more hiding. “Damn, you took longer than I thought,” a voice behind me said.

“Hey, the longer it takes, the better it looks,” I said, turning around to find my best friend, Asher looming over me. The eleven inches between us was a distance I couldn’t get used to, even though he outgrew me years ago. I’d have to agree with all the other girls my age and say that he was easily the hottest guy in the city; beautiful tan skin, wide, toned shoulders that matched the rest of his athletic build, a perfect pout that concealed a smile that could make any person melt. His hair was usually pushed back, styled just the way he likes it, but tonight it hung over his eyes as if he had something to hide. But I could see just enough of the bright blue in them that reminded me of my artist.

“Well if it looks that good, then you won’t mind if I take a look,” he reached for the collar of my shirt. I slapped his hand away quickly.  

“You don’t even know where I got it.”

“I mean, you’ve always seemed like the tramp-stamp type,” he teased.

“C’mon,” I said through a smile, “we couldn’t get matching marks, they already think we’re together.”  

“Would you shut up already and just show me?”

“Fine.” I turned around and showed him the symbol in between my shoulder blades. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember?”

“Yes, Mel, I do, thank you.” After a few minutes of examining it, he put my shirt down and let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, “is it cooler than yours?”

“Not even close,” he said. “It’s just that, I’ve never seen that symbol before.”  

“Wow, I think we’ve finally discovered something that has stumped the all-knowing Asher.”

“I may not know now, but in three days we’ll both be able to figure it out,” he said. I was already a little shaken up about the upcoming Coloring Ceremony, but hearing this made things worse. Even though Asher was my best friend, I was scared to tell him about my concerns.

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” I started walking up the sand hill in front of me and Asher followed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He said, now walking by my side. I could feel his eyes search my face, as if he was aware of my troubles.

“Do you ever wish you could just pick your own future?” I kept my eyes low, watching my feet sink into the sand with every step.

“The coloring is our future,” he said.

“No, I mean like, no matter what color we receive, we can still choose what kind of person we want to be.” The silence grew thick between us and hung there like the humidity in the air. He took his time thinking of an answer, but after a while he let out a chuckle.

“I knew it, you’re totally scared, Mel.” He lightly punched my shoulder.

“I so am not!” I said. “I’m actually more worried for you.”

“For me? There’s nothing I gotta worry about,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” I challenged him, “I bet you a new mark that you’ll get green during the coloring.”

“You’re gonna bet a new mark on me getting green?” He threw his head back laughing. “I think you inhaled to many fumes back there, all that excess ink is getting to your head.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but I hope for your sake you’re right; green was never really your color anyways.”

“That’s it!” he shouted. He bent over, grabbed a handful of sand and threw it at me. He took off running and I could hear his laughter fade as he got farther away.

“You’re so dead!” I screamed, chasing after him.

~

Later that night I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. I kept thinking about what Asher said, replaying his response over and over, trying to rationalize why I felt like I was so wrong. I know the Coloring doesn’t tell us who we’re going to be, it shows us who we have always been. But I still felt trapped; I didn’t feel like any of the colors described who I really was deep down. Of course Asher was right, the Coloring is our future, and it’s never been wrong. Maybe I was just scared; scared that I wouldn’t like who I truly am, scared that my life actually begins in less than three days, scared that everything I’ve ever known is going to change. Life was happening so fast, and there was no way for me to stop it. But I trusted Asher, and if he could be so confident, then I could be too.