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Writer's picturelolade Alaka

One Eighty: Part 3

Day One of One Eighty

I try to remind myself that my heart will grow fonder with his absence

An hour later and I am still on the rock-hard bed rolling around

Why don't I have the will to do anything

I move slowly to sit up pushing my legs down the side of the bed facing our one large window

I stare out to the long stretch of green that's dull in comparison with the first day I saw it

Little animals roam free all around the field and I cannot help feeling imprisoned

Suffocating in my self-made prison

I shiver

I am alone again

This time I truly am alone

We came to the village to be alone together

Now I am alone alone

I wince



Chance walks past the window, heavy looking logs of wood in hand

I hear the soft creak of footsteps on our loose front stairs

I hear him enter through our front door

We had just finished erecting our cabin house

We needed logs for the fireplace because it felt like winter was here

It felt like snow was supposed to be falling already

We had finished our home just in time

Or we would have needed to lodge at an inn we didn't have money for

The location was perfect

It allowed us the illusion of being apart from the world

It was what we needed

We were young

We were in love

He sat next to me on the bed and pulled me to his lap

He rested his forehead to mine and we stared into each other's eyes for a long time as the heat of the fire he had just stoked in the fireplace and in my heart enveloped us

And then he proceeded to tell me why I am the one

I am different from him

In culture and thinking

He will never understand how and why I think and act the way I do

And so it's going to be a great adventure spending his entire life trying to understand me, he said

In looks

He is so white and I am so dark

My tough and curly hair that never obeys

My dark eyes the shape of almonds that remind him of hot cocoa

My pudgy nose he loves to pull

My soft, swollen lips are too kissable and reminds him of honey or caramel

My round stubborn chin

My fresh ebony skin that makes him think of melted chocolate.

There was a time blurred up in my past, I used to think myself ugly in the face of those pale faced golden girls in school

But I can't even remember why I would think that

In truth, there weren't many people who looked like me

I am special!

The way you carry yourself, he continued

Like you were worshipped in your past life

Like you have everything under control

Like you don't need any protection

My queen

I looked into his soft hazel eyes that looked grey from a distance

Or under the sun

Hot breathe from his nose fanned my face

You are mine, I said to him

I chose him again as he chose me


The window blurs out of view and I realize I am crying

My eyes burn and I shut it tightly

I don't understand myself anymore

This is ridiculous

Teardrops fall to my fat thighs

And I feel insecure again

Am I fat again?

Am I ugly again?

I look vaguely toward the dresser mirror but I don't move to stand before it

I can't

If I look, I will become that girl again

I look at my stubby dark hands, my dark skin

Ebony, he called it

Chance's are as pale as milk

We really are different


Day Fifteen of One Eighty

I make it my mission to be up and out of the house by dawn

The house is a trap

A house of mirrors haunted with too many shadows

Nights have become torturous

I haven't had a wink of sleep in perhaps a week

I am barely conscious

Barely sane.

Art is the only answer

Yet all I paint is doom

I look at today's creation half smeared with my tears

There is fire in the sky and a body lies on the floor in the midst of several people running around in obvious panic

The body is intricately detailed, two bullets to the head.

But it has no face

In fact none of the people have faces

My tears have smeared them all out

Suddenly, there are shadows hanging over my paper

Dark inverted figures, getting bigger and bigger

I look up to see heavily suited men approach me

I take a few minutes to look at their faces

And immediately I know why they are here

I don't know when I start to run but I see approaching landscape flash past me as I move thoughtlessly away

Far away from the evil people

I mustn't hear what they have to say

I just know I mustn't hear it

A pair of arms grab me from behind and suddenly I am back in the departmental store five years ago

When I open my eyes it is not Chance standing in front of me

I put my hands over my ear and scream loudly

I cannot hear my scream but I feel my throat aching, piercing


When I open my eyes again, I am in a strange place

At first my vision is blurred

Smeared grey and dark figures moving into each other

I hear loud voices but I cannot make out their words

I need to know where I am

Suddenly, I feel panicked, restive

I move and realize I am lying down

I attempt to lift myself but something pins me down

I shut my eyes as a series of sharp pains explode in my head

I hear myself groan

And suddenly everything goes dark, oblivion


I open my eyes

I remember the last time I opened my eyes but I don't remember anything beyond then

I stare straight ahead of me where a blurred man is standing, his back to me,

He seems to be talking to someone out of view, outside the door

As my vision comes into focus, I notice the room looks vaguely familiar

The walls are muralled with blue daisies

I blink

A lady rushes in through the door and pushes a cup with a straw sticking out of it, towards my mouth

And I realize I am, in fact, thirsty

A barrage of people breeze in as I drink the water longingly

Who are all these people?

I count eight of them

The man at the door is now facing me, he is wearing an all black ensemble, suit, shirt, tie

Angel of death

His eyes lock with mine

I look away nervously

The lady with the cup now has a hot towel over my fore head

She tucks the thick blanket over me more tightly and then I realize how cold I am

I feel like I am back from the dead

And yet I can't remember what could have happened to me

I can feel these people's stare on me, wanting to talk

Wanting to tell me some grave bad news

But the lady has given them a stern look effectively shutting them up.

And now she plants a warm, flower kiss where she the towel used to me

She whispers for me to go back to sleep

My subconscious immediately obeys her as I feel myself already drifting

I must truly be exhausted

My last vision is of the lady leading everyone out and closing the door behind her.


Part 4 is COMING SOON. What do you think of the story so far? Tell us in the comments section!

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