Day Twenty of One Eighty
I don't remember
I close my eyes tight trying to make something of the void between my head
Flashes
That's all I see
The lady had returned with a mouthful of empty information
He is dead
That particular one leaves me with a sick feeling each time I think about it
And yet...I don't know why
The lady is my mother
And I am home with my family, she said
Yet, I know she's wrong
I only remember being alone
Alone alone
And I remember one eighty days
In one eighty days, everything would be fine
I can be happy again
Happy
Day Forty of One Eighty
I joined the Utopian Peace Corps
He would be proud of me
I see him in my dreams smiling at me
His eyes, sometimes grey sometimes greenish brownish, calling to me
I know him and yet I don't know him
I don't want to think too deeply about it
I can't trust what I think, sometimes I think my mind is lying to me
I don't know if what I know is what I know
I don't know what is a memory and what is just a dream
I can't make sense of anything
So I'm just going to keep myself busy helping people out there
Outside Utopia
Utopia
Day Sixty of One Eighty
I am passing through the underground tunnel again with my group
We need to get food and medical supplies to the inner city of the outside
But the outside government do not want us to help the 'rebels'
Only, at this point, every citizen of the outside is a rebel
The government is fighting its own people!
What we are doing is dangerous, I know
But it must be done
There are children there and they will starve
A water disease is breaking out too
We make our way through the dark, humid subway amid the sound of each other's groaning
The air is stagnant and breathing is hard labor
A single but large flashlight illuminates our path, further heating up the atmosphere
A sudden but slight breeze is a well-received sign of the end of the tunnel
Soon after, the ladder to the surface is finally visible
Just above, moonlight is streaming through an opening
I am standing in the middle of the woods looking up at the moon above my head through the branches of giant trees
And I am painting what I see
Painting with such speed that I can no longer see my hands' movement
Someone packs my hair into a ponytail behind me and wipes my face dry with a soft silk piece of cloth
I am sweating in streams
My eyeballs. They've rolled out of focus
When I finish, I collapse and he's there to catch me
He kisses my forehead and lays me down somewhere
Day Hundred of One Eighty
I no longer want to stay 'home' with strangers
I know they call themselves my family
But I don't know them
I have boarded with the Corps in their housing unit close to the fringes of Utopia
Every day, my group journeys through hidden tunnels, risking discovery by the outside government, to feed and treat victims of the chaos
Some of the victims, soldiers
When I meet the soldiers I find myself searching their faces
I think I am looking for the face in my dreams
His face
In fact, I think something inside me needs to find it desperately
I want to know why I feel this way
But I can't
Day One Fifty of One Eighty
He is dead
He is dead
She said
The lady that calls herself my mother
Stop looking for him, she said
I know what you're doing, she said
But how can she know what I am doing
When I myself do not
He is gone
You need to let go
Chance is gone
My eyes scorch as tears stream down unbridled
What does she mean
What is she saying
And yet it seems my heart knew
I don't know what you are talking about
The tears are gone as soon as they came
Chance simply went on a trip, I told her
He'll be back very soon
And I can leave this house and be with him
A tight smile slips up my lips
And suddenly I feel so sure of what I said
His name is Chance?
His name is Chance
I remember why I had to leave that house
Now, I can think clearly
And not feel nervous, anxious
Alone, I know everything will be fine
When I am not surrounded by worried, gloomy faces, I can be sure everything will be fine
And I can keep myself busy helping those who have the right to be gloomy
Today, I volunteered to go to the more dangerous part of the outside
They call it the Eastern Center
And I know immediately I hear about it that I need to be there
We will stay there for thirty days
This time our mission is to soldiers particularly
Day One Seventy of One Eighty
My dreams are becoming clearer
I dream of Chance every time I close my eyes
I see him
I touch his thick, curly, raven black hair
I feel his thin, pink lips
His strong arms around me
I long so much to hear his voice
But he doesn't speak in my dreams
And it drives me insane with need
Take me with you, I want to say
Take me to where you are
But I don't want to speak and ruin the moment
Or maybe I too cannot speak in my dreams
I feel joyful by day after I have seen my heart by night
I feel the time coming when I will finally see my heart in the light of day
One eighty days
And then I can be at peace
I remember something and go in search of our Corps Zonal Inspector to ask about it
A large warehouse I noticed a far distance from the wounded soldiers' camp we visited daily
It seemed all but abandoned but I couldn't stop watching it
And for days, I have watched it
For what? I don't know
Today, I noticed men enter and not retreat until a full hour after
Then, I see them leave one man less, through a dirt road across the sparse field surrounding the terrain
The ZI warns me against venturing towards the vicinity of the warehouse
And I know that I must go there
According to him, it is a pseudo detention camp kept by rebels and the prisoners there are beyond our helping capacity, it is too guarded
And yet I saw no guards nor any restrictions whatsoever in all my days surveying the area around the structure
If there are soldiers held there, they need help just as much as any other soldier they've helped
Why help some and not help others?
Why help only when it's safe or easy?
Day One Eighty - D-day
I'm ready
Today, I visit that warehouse
I planned a course of action, as much as I can manage
The ZI disapproves, so I am not going with my group to the house
Nobody can know I am going at all
They'll want to stop me
They'll try
But it's OK, I have everything well planned
I have mini food and drug packs for thirty people stuffed in a Peace Corps goodwill carryall
Detached hard work has its benefits, I am group leader
I will give my members instructions about today's campaign and head off immediately for a 'special assignment'
Everything has worked out perfectly
And now, with the warehouse door towering in front of me, I break into a sweat
I shiver with a sudden bout of anxiety and I hold on desperately to the handle of the heavy carryall
I gingerly open the great door and I am swiftly bathed with the smell of death and decay
My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness of the interior of the warehouse, a sharp contrast to the bright, sunny outside
There are no windows here
Or the windows are all shut
There are bodies on the floor tied to poles
The bodies start to move
And moan
Before I am conscious of it, I'm on the floor leaning towards the man in front of me
The big gaping wound on his leg looks infected
This man would die soon, why would anyone bother to tie him up, what harm can he do?
I lift his head to look at his face
I need to make sure his eyes aren't grey, greenish brown
I move to the next then the next
Searching their faces
I don't find what I am looking for
The men are not all wounded but they are all hanging on to life by a thread
I reach the last man, he lifts his head to look at me before I have to do it for him
And confirms my unconscious fear
He is not here
I collapse to the ground
He is dead
He is dead
And again I feel completely disconnected from my mind and my body
I am weeping and yet I don't know why
He is dead
I don't understand my mind's pattern
He is dead
I feel myself convulse with the intensity of my tears
I pull at my hair in desperation and anxiety
And then I hear it
Heavy footsteps from just outside the building
Like boots crushing dry leaves on the ground
I hear voices, angry voices
I left the door open
I tremble with sudden fear
I should have left while I had the time
And then all thought drains from me as I relax into a comfortable resignation
I sit on the floor and wait for the worst
The men walk in and one shines a torch in my direction
They throw angry questions at me
Who am I?
Where did I come from?
Who sent me?
Who am I?
Someone shouts a loud and precise 'STOP'
And my head is up instantly because I know that voice
I have longed for that voice in my dreams for a long time
He walks towards me and I want to scream
He looks straight at me, stands right in front of me
I can touch him if I want to, yet I can't
I don't remember him
The only thing I know of him is what I see in my dreams
His eyes lock with mine
Greenish Brownish
Am I really looking into the eyes of my heart?
And I am up away from the ground and in his arms
April
April
He repeats over and over again
I want to disappear into him as he is crushing me with the strength of his embrace
They lied to us the council, the government everyone
Everything we thought we knew is all a lie, he is saying
But I don't care about any of that
The one thing I care about has returned to me!
I am laughing and crying and wailing and convulsing
I lift my hands into his hair to feel the silky strands again
I am overwhelmed with a barrage of emotion and I can make no sense of it
I don't want to
I was right
In One Eighty days, everything would be fine!
Am I really in his arms?
Can I really finally hear his voice whispering words of love and other deep emotions only our hearts would ever comprehend?
My face is safely buried just below his shoulder and I am content
Happy
I hear scampering and shuffling around but I don't want to move an inch from where I am
Suddenly I feel a sharp, piercing metal-like thing graze the top of my head just as His hand tightens more around me
I lift up my head as a dizzy spell washes over me and see blood on his shoulder
I am just about to check if he is okay
When I feel another hard substance hit me squarely at the back of my head and pierce through faster than I can conceive my next thought
Light flashes before my eyes for a split second before I blackout
My last vision is of grey eyes under the sun.
END