The Lemon Lady

365 Days of Creativity

day one hundred and eight

There is a lady like a crayon and she's melting in the rain
She's moldy yellow, streaked and mellow,
drifting down the drain.

But as her fattened thigh hits tide,
she pulls up from the gutter
Out she gets a cigarette,
and a lighter that just sputters.

Standing sadly, dank and dreary,
she flicks her bic again,
a yellow candle without flame,
a waxy tower of chins.

With luck a tiny fire sprite
wakes up to light her smoke,
and there the crayon lady stands
like slimy, shaky yolk.

She covers up her cigarette and forgets about herself,
Her thin hair runs in gross grey lines
down her bosomed shelf.

Like a lemon with grey mold on top
she teeters to and fro,
disgusting people passing by,
with her extra citron growth.

But the lady takes no notice for
She's got a game to play;
to finish off her cigarette
before she melts away.

The Spark; Part Two

This is part two of my first venture into science fiction, if you care to indulge, you can read part one here (it's pretty bad ass).

365 Days of Creativity

day one hundred and seven

Inter-dimensional travel isn't any easier the second time around. If anything it's worse, because you think you know what to expect so you build up your body for the sensation, and when you're thrown off it's even more disconcerting. This must be what a kalaidescope feels like. 

Back on Earth my feet sunk deep into the sands of Indonesia. The swell was sweet that day, and I was momentarily distracted. Surfers cruised through the ocean pipes behind Mystery, their feet planted on the newest glowing Invisiboards. When they were first released they were great for out of this world visuals, surfers standing on nothing while cutting up and down the waves, but they were terrible to find if your ankle leash came off. Version 2.0's have customizable LED options. Neon flashes, veins fully pulsing, rainbow edges, the night sky, anything you can imagine. It created a whole new market for advertising in the professional sport. Surfers locking into barrels while McDonald's burgers sizzle beneath their feet. Everything is a tv now. All surfaces can be bought by companies convincing you that you need thirty ounces of espresso and milk poured in alternating levels, vertically stripped by pure cocoa and sugar and wrapped up with a caramel ribbon topped by a fucking pink cloud stabbed full of sparklers and cocaine. Which if you buy ten of you get a one free, so you gain six dollars AND diabetes. 

 I came back to Mystery standing in front of me. "Hi I'm Mystery, welcome to Earth." He grinned and stuck out his hand. 

I brushed off his joke. "I was just thinking." 

 "About?" He raised an eyebrow, (which was quite an overwhelming gesture as his thick brows were double the size of a normal one. I suspect his facial hair alone could kill a man). 

"How much I love coffee." Deadpan.

"Ah, how- unimportant." But he smiled, "Well, you're home now, you can go get all the coffee you want." 

"That's it?" I was surprised, I mean, travel to the middle of space with someone you expect at least a cell number. "Isn't there something else we should do?" 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know! You just gave me magical powers. You're Hagrid telling me I'm a wizard, aren't you supposed to take me shopping now or something?" 

He laughed. "I am not your guide. I'm not going to Merlin you so you can fulfill some prophecy. I've given you a small gift and you can choose to use it, or return to your booth," he gestured to the steroid stand in the distance, "and look back sometimes and think, 'That was nice'." 

I was dumbfounded, and also disgusted by the prospect of returning to the convention. "Well what the fuck do I do now?"

Mystery smiled, pulled a black object out of his pocket and handed it to me. "If you need me at any time, just turn this stone over three times and I'll be there."

I took the dark rock, it was cool from his body. "Really?" 

He smirked, "No, not really. Take care Mina." 

And then he walked away. 

There was no smoke, no fantastic disappearing or slipping into the sliver between dimensions. He just walked away, one foot in front of the other like any regular human, only a bit bigger and maybe not as sweaty. 

It was only later that night, as I was sitting on the dark shoreline that I realized I had never told him my name.

I had a tediously quiet week after that, doing nothing much but wave watching. Not being able bring myself to return to the restrictive booth, I sat on the shores trying to open my mind. If I had to call it something I suppose meditation would be closest. Only I'm terribly impatient and almost always frustrated by my own mind so it was sort of like punishing myself. I kept ending up in arguments with me, in which case we would both lose. Unsurprisingly there was minimal magic that occurred. Once, at the climax at one of my internal yelling battles (this one about whether or not I should have followed Mystery that day) I set a small patch of dry seaweed on fire, but this was more frightening than satisfying and I put it out right away. 

Often I thought about Mystery, and whether he had really given me a gift or if it was something for him to fill his time. None of that "why me" or "what makes me so special" went through my head because I don't think of shit like that. There's no point. Sometimes stuff just happens for no god damn reason and that is totally okay. The whole universe came from one little spark. One tiny blip in the black nothingness and all of a sudden there's dinosaurs and people and a million different universes all tangled up in a great big glowing web of life. How's that for fate?

So I never asked why Mystery chose me. But I should have.

One day I emerged from the storm-churned surf (I had an antique board, the kind made from a tree with wax greased over it) a long ways down shore from where I had entered the ocean, and completely lost my bearings. I could see nothing but white sands and palm trees, not such a terrible sight when you're sense of direction hasn't gone AWOL, but to me it was horrifying. I dragged my board under the cover of the jungle and took a deep breath. There's only so many times you can be spun around by the sea before your mental compass is scrambled. Vantage point. That's what I needed, a place of higher ground as to gather my surroundings. 

I headed down the beach, knowing my board would only hinder my steps, until I glimpsed a slope in the distance. Within twenty minutes I was atop a tall cliff, peering in to the distance. The only problem was the sky had been eaten up by clouds, and their hunger shortened my horizon. Salty air bit through to my flesh and clogged my senses. Everything was ocean up here. Ground; damp, breeze; cool. A great chill settled into my innards and my stomach churned as the water did. I should have eaten something that morning. 

Though my glaring at the sky wasn't helping, I couldn't resist giving it a good fist shake and yelling something blasphemes towards Zeus.

Great, now I'm a cartoon character. I huffed down into a sitting position, fuming. 

I absentmindedly tossed some rough sand in between my hands. And as absentminded things are oft to do, the action gave me an idea. I just need a direction. I settled into the hard cliff, scooped up more sand and cradled it in a bowl between my fingers. I closed my eyes and tried to open my mind as Mystery had taught me. There was a red glow behind my eyelids and I screwed them tight to gain complete blackness. Concentrating on my body first, I became completely aware of my surroundings. The wind in my knotted hair, the damp dirt beneath my legs and fingernails, the moist tropic air sticking to my bare arms. Each speck of earth that I was holding became vivid in my mind. I thought up, past myself, high into the clouds. I pushed up and up until I was part of the mist. I willed the sand to see above the storm and give me direction, urging it quietly and with great intention. It was then the sand fled from my fingertips and I came to just quick enough to watch the last of it fly away. In a straight line. A very, very straight line. And I knew which way to go. 

Back in my hotel room I grinned out at the downpour. My surfboard and I were both nestled in, warm and comfortable, with all the sense of direction in the world. Pregnant raindrops cratered the sand and thunder chased lightning around the sky.

"Go ahead Zeus, have your fun. I'm a fucking wizard now."