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

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The Fall of Pandora (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

She walked across the bridge, her bouquet in hand. Her veil was of purest red and her dress was a lovely affair of rouge and black lace. It brushed the front of her thighs and fell down to the back of black heels in a gorgeous train similar to blood. Her hair was darker than the night and was pulled up into two wraps near the back of her head with the veil intertwined with them. With a face paler than the moon and lips like crimson rose petals, she was beautiful. The markings of her royalty fell off her cheeks like black tears from her crystalline eyes. Her people watched their princess, soon to be queen, walk up to the altar beneath the night sky. With words spoken in true love, she would save their lives. Pandora, their beautiful city in the shadow of the moon, would be saved with their princess’s marriage to their beloved prince. The bride, however, had no qualms with this being a ritual that was more for the city than for her happiness. If she had any doubts about the union all she had to do was look up at the man who chose her, out of all his fourteen princesses, to become queen. She was truly blessed and truly honored. Continue reading

The Streetlamp Children (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

The streetlamp went off at six this morning and a young woman was kissing her boyfriend goodbye as he headed to the bus stop. Watching him board the cross-town bus and vanish on the horizon. As she began to get ready for work herself, she wondered what news she would bring home to him. Continue reading

There’s This Girl I Like (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

There’s this girl I like…

I thought for minute I was dreamin’ when I met her…

I mean come on, I was laid out in homeroom like I always am. Mrs. Shipline don’t care anymore than I do.

“My name is Ayida Jean-Baptiste…”

Ayida

I opened my eyes for jus’ a second, jus’ a peek. New kids were real rare ‘round here so I had to see. I had to see her; especially cause that lil’ lisp-thing she had caught my ears and wouldn’t let me ignore her.

She was beautiful…

Not in a way ya’ll could understand… not like I saw her…

I’d grown up likin’ all kinds of weird shit.

Things like scabs that I used to pick at. Somethin’ ‘bout someone havin’ scars always fascinated me. The stories they tell. I got plenty from fightin’ and climbin’ and being an all around dipshit. Hers though…

They was like some epic story I needed to read… needed to know…

Half her face was this neat cross leadin’ over her eye like a  mob boss or something and the line of her mouth pullin’ up like a demon. Even the strange colored parts on her neck made me stare a lot longer than I should’ve and she was already jittery.

Guess I would be too since… well I go to school with a buncha idiots who don’t like nothin’ new…

What I liked is that she didn’t cry.

She didn’t get that pitiful look like she was ashamed of her scars. Like none of what they said even touched her. Instead, she jus’ decided to sit down so Mrs. Shipline could feel better ‘bout herself. Utter bullshit, but… couldn’t help how curious I was…

I hurried up and put my head down when Mrs. Shipline started bringin’ her over here. What do I do? What do I say. I wanna talk to her. How do i…

I started snorin’.

Bingo!

Like a charm, Mrs. Shipline tried to be a smartass and scare me awake. I only jumped a little, pretendin’ I was jus’ wakin’ up. Acted like I didn’t even see Ayida… or had heard anythin’

Would I like to introduce myself? Duh.

God, she was lookin’ at me.

The scars were even cooler up close, Raised up and smooth; more like a burn than a cut. I wanted to touch it, to be honest. Instead I leaned in, got a good look and took in her eyes while she leaned away. They were like Calista’s winter skies. All grey but so clear ya couldn’t tell there was clouds up there… like the sky had never had color. They kinda.. shimmered too, like… like how marbles do…

Most of all, she looked scared. Behind all that “I don’t care” she was givin’ off, she was scared of lil ole me. I didn’t… I didn’t like how that made me feel. I leaned back and grinned at her. I’m good. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I wanna be yer friend…

“I’m Dakota Fisher and I have to say yer face is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Like, look at it. Seriously badass.”

How was I s’psed to know…

How was I s’posed to know… that the girl I liked…

The only girl I’ve ever wanted to like…

“AYIDA, PLEASE! SHE ALL I GOT LEFT!”

would take everything away from me…

Because I was nice to her…

— Harli V. Park

Hellooo! This is my Day 6 entry for Camp Nanowrimo! Late is becoming a habit. 

I decided to try something different and wrote in the voice of Dakota Fisher, my precious cinnamon roll from Transient. I hope you enjoyed a glimpse into his mind. If you enjoyed, leave a comment, ask questions, like, follow, everything! love you guys!!! Happy Writing!!!

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Somnambulism

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Tinkle. Tinkle…

My daughter is a sleepwalker.

She’s been that way since we moved here six months ago. 10 years old and can’t fall asleep without me by her side. Heh. I don’t mind.

Every night, I keep vigil in our small apartment as a stay-at-home dad, marking the nights and days like a prison sentence. No, I shouldn’t say that. I shouldn’t because I love Izzy. Izzy is the best thing that could’ve happened to me and I see the past six months as nothing but a test of my love for her. A test my wife Liz has failed. Continue reading