Bad Karma

When one of the biggest Creatives on WordPress asks you if you would like to collaborate with him, you do it. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been a fan of their unique work for years and you had a slight heart-attack watching your work come to life in his hands. Below, you’ll find the collaboration between Peter of Little Fears and me.

Story by Tre

Karma opened the blinds to her dorm room, signaling the sun’s rays to drape her in its warmth. Classes had resumed. Summer break was now a thing of the past. She had her assignments, her books, other supplies, and her boyfriend’s heart.

What would he do without her at home now that she’s traveled back to finish her last year of college? Under his mattress was a letter. In it, she’d written:

“I told you not to fall for me. I only wanted your heart. Now, that I have it, you have nothing.”

Poor Jesse, his life was full of bad karma.

*View the piece in its entirety, including the incredible audio-visual formatting from Peter by clicking the link below.

Peter, thank you very much for the opportunity, man. I’m still quite over-the-moon about it!

The First Time

Courtesy of Sacred Margins/Maria Makki

Damon has his hands full. Last night consisted of tossing and turning uncontrollably. Linda refused him their bed. Another heated argument landed him a night on the couch. A common theme in their home. He has lost his sense of self. He doesn’t know who he is and cannot remember who he was. Since the voices entered his head, he was changing. 

He carries a bowl of cereal, a mug of coffee, and the weight of his unforgiving heart on his shoulders. He struggles as he makes his way to the family room. Today, he will apologize.  

Linda is combing her dully colored hair. Damon said the highlights looked like they were torturing her scalp. She’d spent three hours and $85.00 at the salon, yearning for perfection. 

“Everything I do, I do for him.”

She mumbles excuses for her reactionary behavior while glancing at her tired reflection in the mirror.  She belittled Damon for his momentary outbursts, unwilling to see his progress. Today, she will end the suffering.  

The hardwood floors of their Victorian home creak under the pressure of heavy feet. Both of them pace in place, struggling to keep their anger sealed. Their therapist advised in the last session, “Let go of what does not matter. Embrace what does.” The walls whisper sound advice, in the frozen foyer, Damon hears them:

“Love or lose. Win no more.”

He races up the stairs, bursts into their bedroom, and lunges towards his wife. He catches her moments before she kills herself.  

This is the first time the voices in his head are right. 

The Glory of the Forgotten

Courtesy of Pinterest

She is sitting in a pale, dust-ridden chair, rocking herself to obtain a deeper sense of calm. Her Primary Care Physician believes she is showing signs of Bipolar Disorder. She wants to refer her to a therapist, someone she trusts. The air in the room is thick with guilt. A faulty door swings open and a nurse in tattered scrubs alerts the doctor to her next patient who has been waiting for fifteen minutes. 

“Danielle, I have to go. I have another patient waiting. I will call Dr. Dominguez myself and schedule a consultation for you. Are Fridays still best?”

But, Danielle is drowning.  The rocking chair is now a carousel and she cannot halt the spinning. There is no sound. The muffled words of Dr. Norman attack her ears but leave no depth. She is trapped within herself, bracing for glory that does not come. 

“Danielle?! Are Fridays still best for you?”

“Yes.  I’m sorry, Dr. Norman. I didn’t hear you. I was…”

“I know, you were not here. *sighs* We will get you better in due time. I will call Dr. Dominguez this evening. Make a follow up appointment with Clara at  the checkout desk for three months. I want to check your iron and ferritin levels at that time. And… your weight.”

Danielle shifts on the plastic bed in the paper thin gown. She gathers her things one by one and returns her outfit to her body. Facing the world is never easy. At least today, someone listened. 

Someone finally listened. 

Unwanted Guest

Francis popped up for a visit. Annie was not opposed to having a little fun, but she just didn’t want it to be at her expense or the expense of others, especially with Francis around.

Francis: “Where can I put my things?”
Annie: “In the guest bedroom.”

The air between them settled into the night, inviting in the corruption of the day. Annie felt herself suffocating from Francis’ presence. His breathing drove her insane.

Francis: “You gotta light?”
Annie: “You know I don’t smoke.”
Francis: “Oh, yeah. Sucks to be you.”

Annie closed her eyes and counted to ten.