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Author: Haley B
Title: Paper Flowers
Dying felt good.
For a moment. Then it all faded to black and I’m left in this state of
semi-consciousness. Now it feels like floating. No, I can’t see the
future. And no, ghosts don’t exist. But now I know who stole candy from
the grocery store last week and was never found!
The light at the end of the tunnel was that of a train. I barely felt
the impact, just kinda knew it was coming. I still wonder why I didn’t
move. It must have been that I was crippled, my feet trapped in the
railway. I think I screamed. I dare you not to.
Taking the tunnel was a mistake in the first place anyway. Of so many
places... But it was a good hideaway. The blue men had been on my tail
all afternoon, their dogs’ day just begun. By the evening, I was tired
and sought shelter in there.
I don’t remember when they started chasing me. People swarmed all over
the place. They raided the town. I knew everybody was on the run now,
and would turn me in. These wheat fields are so cool to run in, and yet
so hard to run through. I should have chosen roads even if they’re
patrolled. And the sun was so hot.
I remember hot. Everything felt hot when I pulled the trigger. Must’ve
been when they started chasing me, after all. Right after that. The gun
felt so cold in my hand, and then suddenly it was so hot I had to drop
it. My old man lay on the floor, his brains a wallpaper. Mother couldn’t
speak. Made it easier for us both, I guess. I picked up the gun again
and she looked away.
You know what’s fun? They were nice to me in the morning. They fixed me
breakfast and even got the Sunday comics out. It was a rare treat. I
don’t know why sometimes they behave nice. Maybe guilty conscience. Or
they think I’m healed. Not sure. But it made me angry.
Oh yes.... they felt they had to win my trust back after whipping me
senseless. Quite literally. I remember the welts still pulsating the
moment I woke up in the morning. I bit my lip and tasted blood when I
tried to sit up on the bed. The sheets were still stained. They didn’t
smell good, either.
The night was cool. At night, everything is beautiful when I dream. I
lie inside myself for hours, lost in my dreams of paper flowers and
drawn lullabies. But sometimes I get nightmares. Those aren’t so cool.
But I usually sleep well, even though those latches on my wrists hurt
sometimes.
I cried myself to sleep. Sometimes I think I faint rather than fall
asleep. I guess I’ll never know. What’s the big difference anyway?
Everything goes blank and I find peace. I know well what lies beyond my
sleeping refuge: the nightmare I built my own world to escape. The world
of paper flowers.
But in the evenings, it was never easy. The leather ripped away skin in
pieces. The wood smashed into my buttocks, sizzling the flesh, bruising
raw meat, spilling blood. Swallowed up in the sound of my own screaming,
I still felt a few ‘creaks’ and ‘cracks’ here and there. I wonder if I
had so much trouble sitting because of my bottom or because of my
fractured tailbone. I guess I’ll never know.
It’s almost fun to hear them come up the stairs. I think they argue over
who’s going to do it to me first. Eventually they both do, and still...
well, it’s interesting. They’ve got a commitment after all. They’re
sworn to their task of being good parents.
I got the gun from Billy Sherman. He sits in the back rows in church. He
said it’s cool and that he took it from his brother, a soldier. He
didn’t know. Guess he does now. I was just supposed to keep it for a
night. Billy treats me well because I think he likes me. His mother has
told him not to get anywhere near me though.
That’s because Mrs. Sherman thought me a witch. They all did. Must’ve
been my moments of absence. My daydreaming. My poetry. My talking to
animals. My feeling Nature. My singing when I washed my clothes at the
river everyday. My indulging myself one night. That’s something witches
do.
The pastor told my father, “please be careful”. Mother was scared. She
knew what that meant. They all did. I think they’d do anything rather
than feel everyone’s eyes on them.
But I saw Mrs. Sherman drink at night in the woods while her husband
slept. I saw James Kerr kiss Kevin Mallory in the stables and feel in
his jeans. I saw the butcher put his pants back on and pay Mary Kelly. I
saw pastor Shaughnessy preach from the Revelations while revealing
little Peggy Smith’s petticoats. I saw young Amelia scream as the doctor
moved the iron stick inside her.
And then I saw the gun, and a light, and something told me to do it. For
a moment I thought it was the Devil. I died knowing it was the Devil,
that He made me a witch in the first place, that He pushed me to kill,
that He made me flee and that He made my feet get stuck when the train
was coming.
Now I lie here floating, though, and I wonder: where is the Devil? Is
there anything here? It all smells like rubber and I don’t like it.
But it’s cool to watch the whole town mourn around the coffins. My
parents’, that is. What’s left of me is buried by the river. Is that an
exorcist? Oh well. Not my business. But the funeral is really cool.
I want a grave too. I want paper flowers on it.
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