(Inspired by a scene in the film Wristcutters) It was dark, but through the black hole were sparkling stars, bits of light twinkling, sparking lovingly. Yes, she was loved. She knew it all along. It helps sometimes to be reminded. But who? Who was it sending her such warmth? From where came this great love? Invisible arms wrapped around her. Love, love, love. O-o-ooh, she signed in ecstasy, and the stimulation jerked her eyes open. In a blink of an eye she was staring at the sky. She was awake! She could move again! Alive! How wonderful to be alive! All at once, five earthly senses returned to her, like long lost friends. She could smell the salty water but something else too—something rotten, fetid. She gazed at the ocean. It was beautiful. The sound of the waves was calming. How wonderful that she could hear it! She sat up, her hands pushing against the sand then touching something sharp as she pushed her body upward so that she was standing up on the sand and on something else. Ew! Something sharp had stuck to her palm and she shook it off. Looked like an old, dirty needle cast off by an addict. She curled her toes into the soft sand then felt something else underneath her feet, something sharp, digging into her feet. That something else made her look down to see what prodded at her skin. Her eyes saw more dirty needles, beer cans, bottle caps, candy wrappers, pizza boxes and used condoms. Yes, condoms. This is what she’d been lying on while falling in love with the darkness. She wanted to run off of this ghetto beach but had to look at the ocean one more time. It was beautiful. Majestic waves reached out to her imploringly, and the sun was rising in various shades of orange and pink. She couldn’t stay here. Too dangerous. She couldn’t run away either. Too dangerous. So she carefully plodded her way off the dirty sand. Her bare toes flinging garbage out of their way, creating a path back to her real life, which was far away from the ocean and often unpleasant, but not as bad as this damaged shore. Maybe she could find something else that was just as beautiful but not so dangerous? A view of the ocean, away from the debris? She missed the arms that held her in the black hole. She hoped to find that warmth again, far away from the rubble. She would find a better place from which to stand up and watch the sun rise.
Meria Cairn’s been writing creatively since she first learned to shape letters into words and create sentences. She’s written poems, short stories, screenplays, news features, blogs, songs, and a memoir, Diary of a Mad Bag Lady, available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. The Villager Newspaper, NoHo News, Music Connection Magazine and GrrrlsWithGuitars.com have published her work.
Meria is also an actress, musician, songwriter, and video producer.
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