Danika’s Note: Tower of Babel – 15 Degrees Skyward

There’s this belief… this religious myth that the reason we have so many different languages is

This religious myth that the reason we have so many different languages is because long ago, humans attempted to build a tower so high that they reached the heavens. They angered the god that resided there by attempting to reach his elevation… his divinity, I expect. So that could he confounded them. He took words from our tongues and replaced each with words that could no longer reach others and be understood. They could no longer communicate with each other and so the culmination of their unity crumbled….

That god… divided us…

But, that’s illogical, isn’t it…

Perhaps it was not that this god replaced the language… perhaps it wasn’t common tongue that was taken from us. After all, humans possess the capacity to learn – that is, to speak as many languages as they each are capable of learning. People can even pick up phrases and words that were given and borrowed and cloned from other languages. People can and will communicate.

That god did not divide us…

No, a better way to say it is: that god disconnected us…

I believe this was the moment we stopped reaching those heights together and started trying to reach them alone. Thus, we all sit upon the ruins of our own towers; these absolute sums of all our emotions, all of our genius, all of our free will. The absolute sums of our uniqueness. And we stand alone, no one able to reach our elevation… No one able to help us get higher…

Each of our towers sits there at different heights…

Mine sits so high that I cannot see up or down or even around me. There’s nothing there at this level. Nothing… I sit here and I can’t come down, but I can’t go any higher. This is the curse, this is the confounding. We stand alone at the precipice of everything we want, everything we try to accomplish only to be stricken down by our own limitations because we can no longer connect and climb higher!

But… in the distance there is a light. There is another world somewhere through the darkness. Another tower gleaming in the light that looks just like mine! It’s warm and blinking and calling out because it can climb no higher. I want to reach out to it. I want to touch that…

I want to connect…

It’s a whisper.

A breath, a sigh escaping from my heaven to yours that ends the world that I created alone and begins the world we will create together. This whisper carries across the distance upon the dream that I have always shared with you… even when I didn’t realize it myself. It reaches out and brushed just against the side of your face to caress your ear asking, requesting… begging you to wake up.

Show me the world you tried to create and then send it into the darkness as I have sent mine. Show me the elevations you sought and then I will meet them with mine.

Let us cast aside the failure and connect…

Don’t you see?

I do not believe that it was language that that god took from humans, that the confounding was the spoken word. The confounding was connection… the connection of what is our free will… what is our uniqueness… what is our soul …

I send this whisper of connection, of words no spoken or written language knows upon the wings of our shared dream and I wait for you to whisper back…

Only then, can our towers converge…

Only then, can we reach the heavens we’ve both longed for…

Maybe then, when I hear my words in your tongue, I can believe they are true…


(Read 15 Degrees Skyward)

Author Notes: A small glimpse into the mind of Danika Bennet and her need to connect. I’m slowly crawling towards the completion of Episode 2 and will be posting it soon. Danika is a very unique girl, isn’t she…

Anyway, I hope you like it and I hope you’re enjoying the slow crawl of content. Monday I’ll have more to say and I should have Episode 2 up before then… should being the operative word! 😀

See ya there!

Harli V. Park

There is a Shadow… (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

My ma had a sayin’. One that I only know cause she kept in her diaries and crap.

“There’s always one thing yer gonna wanna give up everything for.

There’s gonna be that one thing… that one somethin’ that makes ya forget why ya even have power, or why ya wanted it in the first place…”

I’ve had power since the day my daddy came callin’ in the middle of the night and I learned what humans really were. Pieces of goddamn garbage. They all pretended to be these normal, upstandin’ people but deep down I can see what they are. I can see my daddy in every one of those pityin’ stares — those “you poor thing”. I had power to never have to be the small one. Never have to be the one lookin’ up. I could rip the heart out of anybody who stepped to me and they was all afraid of me in a way that I loved, fed off of. I had power over them and I had power over their lives…

I could eat them all alive!

But then… she crashed near my haunt.

She bled out on my hands…

She was so small…heh…

And in a single goddamn moment… I gave her power over me

Exactly what he wanted…

That fucker knew I’d be drawn to her. Knew I’d feel it… knew I’d come…

She was so small…

Yet, she was bigger than me

I could feel it, fuckin’ smell it on her… smell him on her…

Yet I ain’t hesitate. Even though I felt that bastard pullin’ me apart even before I lifted her out of all that chaos, I ain’t hesitate for a minute. Cause I knew what she was… what she was gone be…

But, she was just so damn small.

Weak…. Stupid… Green. Ain’t know shit about shit!

But I couldn’t get close to her. They made sure of that. They kept her locked up, kept her outta sight and then had her in that house for weeks before I couldn’t even see her. I watched her though. Kept up and waited for her to feel what I felt in her.

And she did… Oh she felt it… and it killed.

She was ready to play the game.

Ready to play to win…

Ready to play with me…

Out of all the garbage in Calista. All those fake ass smiles and laughter and “community” where they clap ya on the back for drunkenly attackin’ somebody and say “its okay, we’re family.” In this itty-bitty pissant town… she shined so bright. She was like this bonfire that everybody was starin’ at but wouldn’t get close. But I’m gonna… I’m gonna get close, I’m gonna feel that heat threatenin’ to turn into a wildfire, and I’m gonna watch Calista and that quack all burn!

I’ll be her shadow while she turns everything to ash..

And I won’t stop until she helps me get back what he took from me…

Until she understands that the one with the power is her…

Why?

Cause she’s different than the rest of ’em.

Cause its only fair….

I saved her life…

The least she could do is play the game with me…

Accept the power I’m givin’ her…

Play… and win…

Burn it all down…

“I can’t be like that. I don’t know how to be like that…”

‘Course ya do, Ayida…

We’re monsters, ya know. It’s what we do.

–Harli V. Park —

A nice little aside from Laney Winchester’s POV in Transient. 

This was supposed to go up yesterday but unfortunately I got too busy and ended up forgetting to finish it and post it. So this is Day 10 for you and Day 11 will be up later tonight! I hope you enjoy this bit of a teaser and look forward to the next post!

To all the new folks, thanks sooo much. All the visits, hits, likes, comments, and best of all follower! Its such a joy to know people are enjoying this as much as I am. If you guys have any requests, suggestions, things you just wanna say or you just want to say “hi” I’m always accepting. 

Thank you for hanging in there! More to come!

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Daddy Issues (Transient Excerpt #3)

Ayida’s blurred vision began to clear and she felt groggy as though just waking. She was on her feet, standing in her father’s bedroom near his bed. A weight in her hand made her raise it and she stared unfeelingly at a kitchen knife clenched tightly in her fist. Breathing calm, she turned it over catching the glint of the moonlight and giving ruby glow to the stains on the blade. A sense of childlike awe and anticipation filled her as her eyes flicked from the blade to her father’s form beneath the comforters. Ayida moved deliberately slow, careful not to the jar the mattress as she climbed onto it. One hand on her father’s chest, Ayida shoved him lightly to rouse him. A wet warmth soaked her hands and she pulled back to gaze at her fingers. A crooked smile spread over her face at the vibrant red. The darkening sheets covering her father were pulled back slowly to reveal a gushing hole in his chest. Ripped pieces of flesh were flayed open with the blood running black over his skin as it soaked his night shirt and the mattress beneath. Continue reading

The Pale Shadow (Transient Excerpt #2)

“Ayida…”

Dazed gray fluttered open, stirred from what felt like sleep. Her skin prickled with goosebumps where it made contact with the tile of the bathroom. It was unnaturally cold and her breath misted soft white. Finding some will to move, her hand glided slowly over her stomach, the ache long gone and her mind clear of the tempest it had been earlier.  There was no paranoia biting the edges, no fast beating heart to snatch what was left of her breath. Shakily, she pushed herself to sit up and pressed her back against the stall’s wall.

There was a strangely eerie silence about the room despite the echoing hiss of running water. The fluorescent lights above were out leaving a dark grey hue over the bathroom versus the former mix of sun and artificial light of before. The walls were…stained? They appeared dilapidated, peeling paint and cracked tile everywhere. The mirrors were smudged with a thick grime making reflection impossible and the sinks were dingy, the metal rusted. Even the stall doors looked crooked from deteriorating hinges and the stale scent of decay was heavy in the room along with something she couldn’t identify. It took a moment but her eyes adjusted to this semi-darkness and Ayida pulled herself to stand, wincing at the ache in her body. Where had her tormentors gone? Had the day passed already? No, no, that would mean she lost time. She couldn’t start losing time again. If she did, Dr. Chandler would send her back to the hospital. He would have to… Continue reading

The Scarred Child (Transient Excerpt #1)

 

The scent of dry-erase marker was one she’d been certain she would never smell again. Yet there it was, pungent smell permeating the quaint little classroom with its sunny windows and dark wood desks lined up neat grid lines. It was a strange thing to notice, but it felt safe in a way the dozens of eyes on her did not. The dull whispers of conversation echoed almost too loudly against her nervous ears. Having grown accustomed to a certain volume from the nurses and even more so the single voice of her father, the cacophony of sound – no matter how soft – unnerved her.

“Class, I have someone very special for ya’ll to meet,” Mrs. Shipman, her new homeroom and English teacher, brought attention to her presence. Tension rose as they realized that confronting them now was the elusive occupant of the old blue house at the end of Maple Street. “This is Ayida Jean-Baptiste, our newest student.”

Ayida kept her head low, face obscured by white hood.

“Go on dear,” The teacher encouraged, a touch impatient and inappropriately eager. “Don’t be shy.”

Shy wasn’t the word and the encouragement did nothing for the tremble in her fingers. The threat of the gazes in the room wasn’t the reason she clenched the brim of her hood. The initial shock associated with disgust – and more often pity – was a prevalent occurrence since her convalescence in the hospital. It was nothing to get worked up over much less make her hesitant. The color of her anxiety was ending all chances of interaction by revealing her face. However, what else could be done other than lower her hood and let the light show them what had been hiding in their town.

Disfigurement distorted the right side of her face in the form of a long rugged scar from hairline to swell of cheek, interrupted by her damaged eye where lid drooped heavily over blown pupil. Devoid of Life, the matte gray hue gave the appearance of fish eye in opposition to her expressive frost gray one. Nothing but a miracle had kept sight in it. Across this long scar was a separate, smoother line of raised skin. The stiches had managed to dose this long split of her mouth making the scar trail from the corner of lips to the apple of cheek like a Glasgow smile. Mahogany flesh was mottled down her neck, hinting at unseen damage beneath soft yellow blouse. The only saving grace was the abundance of thick sable spirals about her shoulders and face. The ringlets could not cover the imperfections, but they offered a more positive juxtaposition that made her just a bit easier to look at.

Of course, the reveal delayed verbal reaction from the other students as they stared and gave Ayida a moment to take them all in. The furrow of brows, curling of lips, widening of eyes in varying expressions, and slight leaning away of some gave much away as to the climate of the room, but it didn’t prove to be positive. As she let her fingers slide away from the lapels of her jacket, she wet her lips and pressed her teeth into the flesh of it.

Remember. This isn’t about you.

“My name is Ayida Jean-Baptiste.” Pause. Breath. Careful with the lisp. “I got into a really bad accident last year when I first moved to Calista. That’s why I look like this.”

A snicker.

“Go on dear, it’s okay.”

No its not. “It’s uh, nice to meet you all finally and—”

“….face is effed up!”

“What’s up with your eye?”

“She look like leatherhead…”

Mrs. Shipman glared and struck her desk to silence the building giggles and uncouth questions. “That’s enough! If you don’t have anything nice to ask her, keep your mouth shut!”

A few scoffs and snickers remained.

Ayida looked up at the frustrated woman. “I can just sit down.”

“Oh…of course dear. Let’s find you a seat,” she said flashing a sympathetic smile that was not returned.

-Harli V. Park –

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