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Authors: Alex Kimmell
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crying. I don’t want to die. I think I’m dying. Is this what dying feels like? Who could tell me? Anyone who knows what it feels like is already dead.
I am un-becoming myself. Not in the sense that I am acting in a manner that my mother would consider improper. I am becoming someone other. Not someone else, someone
other. Not completely unpleasant, you don’t feel exactly good, but there is no pain. Not physically. It feels like you are squeezing through a crowd of people, shoving and pushing to get to the exit of a building, where you can smell smoke from the faint glow of a fire burning at the other side of the room. No panic yet, but close to the surface. The wave is about to crash, and someone has their fingers wrapped around the alarm lever.
I can feel the page turning, moving me closer. The tide is pulling me toward a door up ahead. At least I think it’s a door. I can hear the rushing of water. Or is it the rustling of leaves? My head feels so small. I am a balloon in reverse. Something is sucking
you out of yourself. You feel the crowd rushing faster now. Time is up. The fire brigade won’t make it in time to save everyone. You feel the floor turn soft and slippery and hear muffled
screams under my feet. But it’s only me. There is no crowd. There is no fire. I am disappearing. I am leaving.
-8-
Emily: The Last Wind
Emily and the boys come in through the garage door. She sends the boys upstairs to get ready for a bath while she puts the mail down on the table in the hallway. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she bristles at three crow’s feet that have appeared next to her eyes since the last time she really looked at herself closely. Puffing her cheeks and blowing out the last wind of her youth, she turns around, looking for Auden.
She tried being understanding, but the way he acted this morning convinced her. He needs professional help. Tonight she will give Uncle Eddie a call. He’s a therapist. He’ll know what to do. They haven’t talked since the move, so there’s her excuse for the call right there. Where is Auden? The TV is off, and so are the lights in the living room. There is a little breeze coming from the kitchen, so she goes in to see if he might be making himself a sandwich.
Odd…the glass door is open and the screen is closed, but she doesn’t see him in the backyard. She walks up to the screen, and one of the patio chairs is knocked over. The door squeaks a little on its rollers as she walks out into the cool afternoon. He left his glass on the table, too? She rights the chair and picks up an old leather-covered book, and turns back to the kitchen.
The glass goes in the sink, and she can hear the boys fighting upstairs, so she drops the heavy book onto the bookshelf next to the fireplace. Auden’s probably upstairs taking a nap. Halfway up the stairs, she stops and almost turns around. Could’ve sworn she heard his voice just then. Must have been her ears playing tricks on her.
-9-
Auden: The Flattening
I can’t see anything.
My eyes have gone dark.
No breeze or sound of any kind.
I should need to breathe, but there is no air.
No pain in my chest.
No chest.
Can’t feel my body.
Emily?
Can you see me?
Can you hear me?
Where am I?
What am I?
Am I still here?
-10-
Emily: The Ghosts of Bad Luck
12:03 a.m. flashes in a dull, glowing blue on the VCR. Auden is still not here, and Emily is far beyond worried now. The panic set in about half an hour ago, and she hasn’t stopped pacing from the front window to the telephone since the kids went to bed. If they were back in their old apartment, she would have a crew of at least thirty people helping her look for him by now. But they don’t know anyone here yet.
She picks up the phone to call 911 and stops before she finishes. Hanging up the receiver, she takes a deep breath. He’s probably out for a walk trying to clear his head. The move has been
I am un-becoming myself. Not in the sense that I am acting in a manner that my mother would consider improper. I am becoming someone other. Not someone else, someone
other. Not completely unpleasant, you don’t feel exactly good, but there is no pain. Not physically. It feels like you are squeezing through a crowd of people, shoving and pushing to get to the exit of a building, where you can smell smoke from the faint glow of a fire burning at the other side of the room. No panic yet, but close to the surface. The wave is about to crash, and someone has their fingers wrapped around the alarm lever.
I can feel the page turning, moving me closer. The tide is pulling me toward a door up ahead. At least I think it’s a door. I can hear the rushing of water. Or is it the rustling of leaves? My head feels so small. I am a balloon in reverse. Something is sucking
you out of yourself. You feel the crowd rushing faster now. Time is up. The fire brigade won’t make it in time to save everyone. You feel the floor turn soft and slippery and hear muffled
screams under my feet. But it’s only me. There is no crowd. There is no fire. I am disappearing. I am leaving.
-8-
Emily: The Last Wind
Emily and the boys come in through the garage door. She sends the boys upstairs to get ready for a bath while she puts the mail down on the table in the hallway. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she bristles at three crow’s feet that have appeared next to her eyes since the last time she really looked at herself closely. Puffing her cheeks and blowing out the last wind of her youth, she turns around, looking for Auden.
She tried being understanding, but the way he acted this morning convinced her. He needs professional help. Tonight she will give Uncle Eddie a call. He’s a therapist. He’ll know what to do. They haven’t talked since the move, so there’s her excuse for the call right there. Where is Auden? The TV is off, and so are the lights in the living room. There is a little breeze coming from the kitchen, so she goes in to see if he might be making himself a sandwich.
Odd…the glass door is open and the screen is closed, but she doesn’t see him in the backyard. She walks up to the screen, and one of the patio chairs is knocked over. The door squeaks a little on its rollers as she walks out into the cool afternoon. He left his glass on the table, too? She rights the chair and picks up an old leather-covered book, and turns back to the kitchen.
The glass goes in the sink, and she can hear the boys fighting upstairs, so she drops the heavy book onto the bookshelf next to the fireplace. Auden’s probably upstairs taking a nap. Halfway up the stairs, she stops and almost turns around. Could’ve sworn she heard his voice just then. Must have been her ears playing tricks on her.
-9-
Auden: The Flattening
I can’t see anything.
My eyes have gone dark.
No breeze or sound of any kind.
I should need to breathe, but there is no air.
No pain in my chest.
No chest.
Can’t feel my body.
Emily?
Can you see me?
Can you hear me?
Where am I?
What am I?
Am I still here?
-10-
Emily: The Ghosts of Bad Luck
12:03 a.m. flashes in a dull, glowing blue on the VCR. Auden is still not here, and Emily is far beyond worried now. The panic set in about half an hour ago, and she hasn’t stopped pacing from the front window to the telephone since the kids went to bed. If they were back in their old apartment, she would have a crew of at least thirty people helping her look for him by now. But they don’t know anyone here yet.
She picks up the phone to call 911 and stops before she finishes. Hanging up the receiver, she takes a deep breath. He’s probably out for a walk trying to clear his head. The move has been
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