Ice
by Mikha'eel Brusssard
Everyone wants to be famous, graduate from college, make a family. I have wants needs even dreams, I grew up with strict parents, Grandfather and dad served in the War, mother stayed home preforming maidwork. My mom once told me “ the most important thing to achieve is a language in which everyone can understand” At first I was very confused, A language that anyone could understand? What is that suppose to mean… I’d go to mom once in a while. Just to brush of the dust accumulating on her brain. I`d usually come home from working my stale job, working in a office. Posting files, decoding peoples english all for the great paycheck of about 300 US dollars. My mom and parents despise of my job more than I do, not in the same manor thought. My dad wanted me to enlisted in the Japan`s Federal security force, my mom wanted me to become a doctor. I don't want either, I have a dream of become a Visual Arts designer for a wondrous company, Microsoft. I love the concept of drawing, drafting, photography, just name it an i can do it. I took up a four year Uni for Visual studio arts and a 2 year Arts class. I really wish I could achieve this dream of mine. I start to blush anytime I even think of the wonder that Visual designing can bring to me. I go home, collect my things from my cubicle area, 12 hours today, no breaks. I get up, accidently bumping into a coworker. I fall down, papers flying about, raining down like a storm of hail.
I go to work everyday and do the same repeated orders im stressed to do. Sitting in a cubicle inputting and reviewing Surveys, 3000 a day. I walk my Dog Touru at 0500, Get ready for work at 0630. I sit in my tub everyday in the small twelve by eight foot room. I have one small sink, White with splashes of rust and old colors of pastel pinks,blues and a citrus colored yellow. I open my closet, roles of hand knitted towels, made back in high school. I remember it vividly. 2012, Mrs Okazumi`s Art class, how much I loved the smell of different paints,clays and pastel colored waters filled with brushes of wondrous sizes and shapes. She had the possession of anything you could imagine. I loved Art so much. Resting chest facing my mirror. My mirror covered in thick fog, the smoldering heat touching my skin. Sitting reflecting upon the life I live and the life I allow to slip throughout my palms. Staring off into my steam filled mirror I graze my hand over my smog filled mirror, wiping the mist from the mirror. I see myself, appearing as a empty silhouette , waiting to be filled with empty emotions. Compassion, Love, the two useless relics discovered by man kind, Given just as easily as it will be shortly taken away by the brother in law, hate. Intimately staring into my silhouette, I notice there are multiple mes of different proportions and Hue. Red`s as dark as a crimson moon, Blues and Cyans as light as cotton candy, Yellows the color of sandy beaches freshly rinsed by an ocean washing into shore. Standing, wondering, breathing, the mixed actions of living yet feeling nothing at all. A dog chasing his own tail. Black and white, live in a small house full of flowers all around, ample time and rest, warm misty air, blackened bone tress stretch across the valley. The cloudless gray sky devoid of emotions, sitting huddled inside myself waiting for my appearance to drift. Time seems endless, shifting itself slowly as I wait. When I attempt to embarrass myself, insisting that I move cautiously and carefully. Subconsciously I brusquely push away, no apologies for my intensity. I ask myself for an explanation, proffering none. You, yourself but I am not me. In love with not knowing the inter enlightenments I must come to find. Today, tomorrow, years from now each clock ticks away repeating syllables. On this island of misshapen and dispositions filled caverns. The common goal of recollecting oneself. The nature of composition and enlightenment.The very fabric of my being, Questioning my purpose. The cells I posses rising against, fighting the questioning of purpose My soul struggling to comprehend the alterations. The void closing and I am departed with out solace. The life, Art and world, twisted and smudge mine to a great spectre full of unfathomable emotions and theories, all filled into one's mind. Inflicting chaos, a great divot of torn landscapes.
I sit, wandering the depths of my mind, feeling throughout the dark abyss. The walls of this place cool, rough and moist. The inside having no organic shape, just rather small divots with curves. I stair up looking deeply into the cave like roof. It seems as if there are small crystal like structures. I look up, sighting my eyes into what seems to be a crystal Like structure, it seems there seem to be small reflection of me. I see the small visions of myself. Demonstrating various task, a lifetime of self preservation. A good depiction of how I see myself,but I feel a sorrow . My internal youth and beauty waisted. I close my eyes, allowing me to open my mind. The hole gets smaller, trapping myself. Becoming a reflection of myself, a torch to ones deepest tunnel, the light and warmth needed to continue upon a dark journey, only to achieve the light at the end of the path. To take the weak, shield the weak and overcome the dark path The soul held high from this deep hole of confined space and air. I hold my hand up high, flailing about, as if my arm is an umbrella desperately fighting to keep my arms leveled above my head. The mist of an unnerving hurricane, feels as if it's below my feet. Twisting, throbbing, Blowing and fighting. My feet drenched and cold. I sink lower and lower about waist deep. I start to cry and accept my destiny, the destiny of being swallowed whole into the depths of this pitch black cave. ” I start To feel my soul and spirit break down, broke down to the bitter core and bone, slowly deteriorating into what seems like a flame of white, gazing upon the white Smokey trail of burning mist I follow the path with my eyes. The path leads straight up to the roof of the cave. The misty trail spells out the word. Sleep, confusedly I close my eyes, sinking further into the base of the hole. A glimpse of panic sets in, I don’t know what’s below me, it feels surprisingly warm and moist. This feeling reminds me of the steam filled showers. As I open my eyes, there seem to be a group of two birds, a black raven like bird with highlights of white and splotch like red dots of the underbelly of the beak. A white Owl shaped bird with cyan colored swirl around the beak leading to the bout of the small dagger like tail. I sit in complete solitude, shocked by the the fact of their being birds inside of such a dark place. The birds have an illuminating light coming from the colored marks on their bodies. The white owl have a dark shadow like light and darker raven haven’t a white sun filled light. The birds having the same shadow, a shadow of a woman. I sit staring into the birds eyes. I start to hear a two voices. A voice of the tone of a adolescent girl and the other of a young woman. I ask if their is anyone there, a response.
“Over here”
“Where are you, are you ok,” looking around in a fluttered motion.
“In front of you silly.” The two birds start prancing in an up and down movement
I look down in disbelief, this can’t be.
“Yes, you can see us can’t you.”
I reply with a questionable yes. I’m sitting head level with my body sunk into the ground. I can’t believe this is happening.
“ You called for us,” the Owl starts to walk forward.
“ So how often do you come here,” the Raven rolling about in the small pebbles.
I don’t know, why am I here?
“We don’t know you’ve requested us, how do you not know about being here.”
“Here? What is here?!”
“Your in the sprite world dear child,” the two birds start to flutter their wings back and worth unveiling a small sparkling pebble.
“The spirit world, wait why am I here.”
“You died, you dropped are little coin into you water, causing you to simmer into a fine meal.”
“What do you mean I’ve died!? This can’t be,” starring about in a shocked manor
“Well getting to the point, you’ve been assigned us to lead you on a fine journey to an art gallery,” Jumping about happily.
“ A gallery, how can I lead you anywhere… I’m stuck in this whole.”
“You aren’t stuck child, merely held in place. Your free to go about freely anytime you want. Just close your eyes and allow yourself to be free.”
I close my eyes allowing myself to slipping through the hole, appearing in the middle of what seems to be a funeral. This is no normal funeral, there seem to be animals dressed as if they are going to an art gallery. The animals are all surrounded around a casket. I take small paces towards the open casket. I stair inside, seeing what seems.. what seems to be all of my artwork.
My birds stand firmly on my shoulders, sitting looking at each other and then back at me. I reach my hand out, moving my portfolios, portraits and painting about. Getting to the bottom of the casket I see me. Inscribed onto the bout of the casket reads: Tohru Aki 1990 - 2017. For some apparent reason I don’t feel sad or any depressed. Hell I don’t feel anything. I feel as if I’m a jar, I was filled at one point with miscellaneous things, paper clips, broken pencils with various bite marks and countless scratches. I feel now that my jar is fresh and empty, a new beginning that has been long awaited. I retract my hands, slouching them along my waist. Somehow I feel the birds shivering on my shoulders. I raise my hands picking both up, I sit down resting them both in my lap. I rub the birds warming them and somehow feeling the pain they’ve experienced. It seems as if the birds feel my emotions. I may be a spirit but thee little guys feel everything that I usually would. I hold my thumbs on each birds head, reading the mind and heart of them. I read “Eternal sunshine from my spotless mind, the world forgotten and covered by the pride we hold. Covering the mist of are dreams that remain in the boxes drenched in condensation and dust in are addict of an mind.We trace footsteps back and out the times to rest, remembering nothing but what we are told to. Holding love and releasing it once we die. We tell them we will find them when we wake, but when do we wake? The procedure already done right away, before you even collect the lights and darks your mind has already washed away the thoughts, eradicating each memory. I use to believe I could save myself, I use to believe I would save me. I lay down on the ice melting away layers at a time, The I,pulse pushes straight through the ice, never feeling again. I’m exactly where I want to be.
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