11 – Tripping

Daisy was always looking for inspiration, the appearance of cursive writing or the look of a padded, bulky knit sweater featuring crimson and indigo animal characters like Filburt. Anything creative, really, would do.

The day she noticed something, she quizzically peered into a bathroom mirror, hoping because she was in the large stall, her sweater would reverse. 

Utterly distracted, Daisy made a note never to do it again.

“My progress has become insuperable from all the months of writing exact-sized phrases and headlines with five words or less.” Daisy thought fast while twiddling her phone in her hand.

“Have things changed in A Day? What were things like when I first started anyhow?” she thought. “Well, I was definitely more satisfied. Had a bounce to my step, could care less about the matchy-ness of my outfits. I also felt more powerful, like people were listening to me, learning from me, and so on.”

Stroking her phone, Daisy continued, “However, today, everything is an exercise—an exercise in recalling (all types included).” Distracted, she goes on, “I have great hair, and my skin is young, it seems. On that note, ageing has not necessarily imparted more wisdom or money in my purse.”

She was always digressing.

Back home, Chona grabbed her fire orange Frank & Oak bucket bag and booked it out the door. She was late, again. Always leaving the house ten minutes post-shower. She hopped into her 2008 white Rogue and took off toward the light. 

The road was slick, and rain dripped down hard, like her binary code pleated skirt that streamed neon pink zeros and ones from her waist down to her thighs. 

She hated driving, though. It was dangerous in Elevententeen, and she knew one day it would kill her. Still, she cranked the radio and listened to old 90s songs like The Cranberries’ Linger. She hummed this tune imagining it more regal played on the baby grand piano at her dad’s house. 

When she sat back to play, his gigantic TV wouldn’t let her use the old music books, so she had to carefully balance grade 8 Royal Conservatory in volumes six, seven, eight and ten. The chords? They prevented her from falling. 

Daisy’s next big project was sitting in her bag. She put it in there to prevent its glorious shimmer from stirring the Outsiders’ eyes. It could kill, and she didn’t want to be a murderer tonight.

Finally arriving, she stepped out of her car. There were Dreams everywhere! She blinked. Then, blinked again. Her eyes started to roll back into her head, and she could feel the surge streaming now from her crown down to her feet, hiding neatly inside her red rain boots. 

In her room.

Someone painted her Brooklyn studio apartment bright orange-red! So, she knew the test had begun.

Should she attack? Chona could barely hold her head up, let alone break out into dance and song. She would just have to sleep it off, her phone continually buzzing that darn song. Then, like all the other times, she passed out. What remained Wide Awake in complete consciousness (forget Artha today) was her supple orange bucket bag. And within it, her project, slipping away…

Self-Portrait 2020

Purpose

A Story About Tripping Over Bread

As things have taken a doubtful turn, I race to the corner of the intersection, moving my head to the back to check for traffic turning right. I am mighty in this sweater I proclaim, not wearing it on my run, but in my head as I write about running. I cross over a slippery yellow grid and see three bright orange pylons. There is a construction site to my right, and a small mall with a Bell store and I always seem to think a Cobs, but there isn’t. This is the fastest I’ve gone in it must be over a year, I thought. I felt impressed with my speed but knew I still had a long way to go. Will there be a huge difference once my shoes stop blinking purple? The lights were slowly changing to green, then orange, then nothing. I could see the lavender bear making its way over the crest of Gladwin Rd, heading toward Mission, where the Vedder river was, and Chilliwack. My heart was in the that town for some reason. The bread? The bread would be over on Monday, so better start relying on something else for pleasure, I thought. I was already home, wiping the rain off my make-uped brow and scanning the kitchen for my pint of water. The bear’s cries could be heard, and thunder rang in the deep blue sky. RipnDip, I thought, taking my hoodie off. The scars on my back were getting better. It just took a little temper, and ignorance for it to heal itself back to smooth, normal skin. Vanity or was it purpose? What answer do you recommend?

14 – Alice

How long has it been? Alice combed through her blonde hair with a piece of honeycomb she found under a tree. There was no one else in the forest today. A deep and thick fog covered everything, except the very top of the trees. Alice peered up and saw an entranceway. It was in the shape of an eye and blue cartoon birds flew through it, looking for food. I have food here, she thought, squishing her honeycomb in her dry hands. It was rather crisp and some of it just crumbled apart. Alice squished her nose and dropped it, wiping her hands on her pinafore. So, now you think we’re talking about cartoon Alice here don’t you? Is it because no images have been shown of our true character Alice? Well, let’s take a second then to describe what she looks like. But beware. She screams when she hears people talking about her. Even if it’s nice things. But I believe her screams aren’t scary or terrifying or an indication of danger. She’s just a kid, that Alice. In fact, she’s only 3.

12 – The Story

Daisy finally returned from Being. The train ride was the same old Opportunity – benign and forgiveness. Either way, she got what she was looking for, a daisy yellow briefcase containing several shards of teal blue wisps and something else she was planning on using at the brief. Daisy got off the train, gathered her things – a brown leather lawyer bag, candies from Chon (scented like pastel pasties) and the most important thing, a blue ty bear wearing a velour ribbon which was actually made of rare DNA. She forgot to say her sister was dead. She wasn’t involved in the murder, but she knew it happened. Starved, she headed to the only standing Canadian burger shack left in Heaven. It was called Burger Heaven and she knew, they now carried special milkshakes that assisted with technological diseases like Common Place. As soon as she arrived, she messaged her best friend (other best friend) Fe. Fe was currently running Manipura and she knew they would have a great dinner together, talking about heros. She flipped open the menu and could not believe what she saw. The whole room changed colour and suddenly everything was white and black. The waitress cunningly interrupted, but it wasn’t the usual gal, it was Shady! Daisy was confused. What the heck was a frog – part of a frog at that – doing waitressing? He slipped his cartilage hands into the opening of his apron and pulled out a knife. “You’ve made it just in time Daisy lady. Is there something I can bring you?” She shot back, completely confident, “Is there something you have for me?”

Yellow Briefcase