Married to my Pen

Samples of my books and poetry.

Chapter 1

. Dead, but still breathing…
The phone had rung at an unusual time; still I leaned over and answered completely oblivious. My hands went numb as the officer gently told me the news. I stopped listening asking myself if it was true, and echoing over his voice in a dark whisper was yes; my mother was dead.
It had started with simple yes or no questions like, “Was the 8th president of America Martin Van Buren?” I usually sat in the back of the classroom, head down, doing my best to remain unseen. I didn’t even study. I would slowly look at the teacher and before I could even think the word yes had already left my mouth and I was applauded with an, “Excellent!” I never knew how many yes or no questions could be floating about, until I began to listen in on people—they were endless. It got more complex as the questions in class became more difficult; from calculus to Emerson.
I didn’t tell my mother because I thought it wasn’t normal. What made it more peculiar is when it came to her I thought of all kinds of questions I could ask. Hoping in my head they’d be answered, but they wouldn’t. Which lead me to believe the special ability I had was only meant for meaningless things, things I truly didn’t want to find out, or things where the answer was obvious. There was no true thinking in this process I just had it—like my mother said—I’m special.
Sabrina named me Trinket and as I got older and around girls named Ashley or Mary I began to question her so called uniqueness. I remember being barely five running to her crying because people would say she had nothing better to name me and, that is why she chose
Trinket—which was a type of necklace. It wasn’t enough that they would taunt me because of my dark skin, and curly hair, they had to try and strip everything that gave me confidence and make me feel inferior to them.
Tightly wrapped in her arms she’d tell me how special my name was, wipe my tears and she promised one day I would understand. She told me the color of my skin made me even more beautiful, and she wished she could have my tone. As for my hair the first time they mentioned it she had washed her straight hair out, allowing me to see that it hers was thick and curly like mine. She styled it showing me the many possibilities our hair had; telling me she would no longer straighten it—because my hair was perfect and it didn’t have to shine like Mary’s, or grow long like Ashley’s because my hair was only the icing on the cake, the one thing that made me even more perfect.
She took me out of school, keeping me close to her so it wouldn’t be wrong to say I was sheltered. Reality was limited in my presence and even when she finally sent me back to school there were things I didn’t quite understand, as well as memories I didn’t have to share with the people around me. I truly knew nothing about my family, not to mention the name of my father.
It got worse when fortunate things began to happen to me while I was away in my sophomore year of high school. My primary focus was anything that had to do with the environment. Environmental chemistry, Environmental biology—if it had to do with the world around us I was in class learning it—quicker than others. We’d do special projects studying what some say was useless experiments like, the wind and the flow of the grass. I thought I had the heads up because my mother taught me a lot about nature, but I always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. The right leaf always fell towards me; the greatest discovery was for some reason always discovered at the tip of my toes.
I never planned to find the perfect blooming roses, and I never gardened enough to know I would plant a garden of flowers that bloomed beautifully as the light hit them, to know mine would bloom the brightest and live the longest. It just happened. My brain and mothers words of wisdom guided me to every place, and let me unravel every maze my academy had to offer. I had way more time, since studying wasn’t a necessity. I was the prodigy of Epstein Academy, a well established Intermediate learning High school made alongside the beach, and secluded from everything around. No one criticized my name, no one pointed out my differences because everyone at our school was different. No one child with the same skin, hair or anything.
I kept my ability to myself best I could, but it was hard hiding it. I didn’t really make friends, because everyone thought I was showing off—when in reality I was trying my hardest not to. Let’s not even talk about relationships—they seem pointless now—but I don’t think there was a boy at the Academy that even gave me a second look. It didn’t matter either way because I had never met a boy that made me feel any different waking up, and walking to class every day without feeling like I wanted to go home.
My homesickness was the one downer to being away for high school. My mom would help by calling me and cheering me up with her jokes. She wasn’t just the kind of mom to make small talk; she seemed interested in everything; encouraging me to continue to do my best and it felt at times she knew exactly how I felt and what to say.
She came one year to my school, meeting all of my teachers as if she had been there a million times before. Now that I think about it, no one—not even a student, asked me about any of my family other than her. I don’t know what I would have said if they would have anyways, I couldn’t fathom a lie that would describe just how happy I was internally with just her being my family.
The day the officer called, I told my headmaster what happened. She told me to take all the time I needed, and quickly arranged for me to go back to Esther; where they had found her. The world had never seemed as dark as it had become when I looked around knowing she wasn’t there.
At the hospital I saw her records listing me as her only family. Once they verified my identity the coroner led me to where they held her. I began to breathe heavier; praying for some kind of fluke in the system when they had discovered her. Once we got into the room chills ran down my spine standing across from her cold lifeless body. I stopped.
The coroner walked ahead reaching to pull the sheet from over her face.
“No,” I barked at him. I could see her hand hanging from the side of the bench her once glowing caramel skin now dreary.
He turned around looking at me puzzled.
Her bracelet hung loosely on her wrist, all the charms I had made for her over the years dangling. I wanted to grab it off her wrist, I wanted to grab it and tell her to come back.
“It’s her.” I whispered barely audible. I covered my eyes, and for the first time my heart begin to cringe, I lost my breath watching our whole time together sweep by; her essence, slipping right through me as if it were dry sand. I could feel the tears falling from the corner of my eyes, and I quickly rushed out of the room, to stand against the outside wall letting my body fall to the ground. I cried away the chance of ever finding answers to questions that no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t answer. Most importantly, I had lost my best and only friend.

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