THE FAULT LINES EDITOR'S PRIZE

My World

          Many things shake me. When I’m cold, I get chills. I get goosebumps and shivers. There’s surprises. Surprises of happiness. Devastating surprises. Surprises that will leave me shaking for days. Book endings. Movie endings. All these are variables of things that shake me. But these are only minor shakes. Earthquakes with a magnitude of four at its maximum. However, has something so devastating ever happened to you, that your ground trembles so violently, so abruptly, that you lose your balance? You struggle to hold onto yourself, your legs wobble tremendously. The pieces of concrete and dirt underneath you suddenly CRACK , spreading indefinitely. All at once, the cracking stops. It’s quiet. Then there’s a WHAM . All the cracked pieces that made your ground suddenly fall. You fall into darkness. There’s no crust, no mantle, no outer core, no inner core. Utter darkness and confusion. You’re falling endlessly. There’s no ground to catch you. The light above only shines on you and the pieces of ground crumbling alongside. The hole you made when you fell provides little light, but as you fall, it’s getting smaller and smaller as you get weaker and weaker. Has that ever happened to you?

          I have a great family: my mother a nurse, my father a doctor. I’m blessed with a cat and a dog, but no siblings. I was the center of attention. Their little precious daughter. Their miracle. I had a great life–great friends, good food, a roof to live under, lots of opportunities, lots of love from my parents. Looking back at it now, I’m grateful. Thankful. Indebted.

        Those were the days. My joyous childhood. The feeling of walking on a sturdy ground. The feeling of support from my parents’ affection. The constant feeling of sprinting across an infinite plain in my picture-perfect, imaginary world. A world of my own design. My bare feet

sinking in the feeling of touching the cold, shamrock green grass. My hands stretching out and breaking free to caress the amethyst colored flowers half my size. Little chirping chickadees of black and white, intoxicating me with their contagious glee. The sweet smell. Of freedom. Of fresh air. The wind and its spirit, traveling through my hair, boosting it like a kite. Attacking my face delicately, a smile emerging from my mouth. The wind weaving through the blades of grass, forming the soothing sound of a ruffle . A whoosh.

          There was the constant encounter with cotton candy sunsets in this world of mine. Purples, pinks, and oranges bursting from the yellow sun. Extending to every corner of my vision. Me, soaking in every sliver of their radiant color. Me, fumbling onto the grass to stare at the sky. Never feeling a slight shiver. Clutching onto every last bit of warmth from my parents. Time had no meaning. Life was perpetual bliss.

          Seven years. Seven years of continuous euphoria. But mother nature decided to switch things up. Of course, nothing good really lasts forever, right?

          One winter day, a shout from my mother punched the silence in the house. The shout heard around the world. I was sealed shut in my room, training my two pets to behave with each other. It was a natural hate between my dog and cat, but I persisted. I had hope. I was oblivious to the screams and cries from outside my white wooden door. From that moment, although unaware of it then, the walls of my room became the boundaries of my safe place. The door transformed into a portal–from the land of my oasis, my paradise, to the land of hell and torment outside.

       My imaginary world. Changed forever. The chickadees, one by one, grew tired and flew. Away, away, and away. Not a single speck of their cheer left for me to grasp. No more of their reassuring chirps. The sunsets gradually lost their color. Taffy pinks became pale. Tangerine oranges became sickly and rotten. The grass got colder and colder. Frost pricked my toes, numbing them. The wind grew vicious. Aimed to stab my face. Prepared for war.

          Winters passed. I matured. I buried myself pillow under pillow, blocking my ears from the sound of my parents fighting. I continued wishing for my pets to get along.

          For seven more years, I coped with this change, until one day my parents overstepped their boundary in reality. The wooden door creaked open. Two words. I’m sorry. Followed by more. Honey, we’re getting a divorce. I knew. I knew they were unsteady. Broken. But permanently?

My world. The sunset completely vanished. The sky turned dark. The wind. Cold. Murderous. The sky gave out a roar, granting the wind to reconstruct into a monster. It coiled and coiled. Without warning, it became a whirlwind, spinning vigorously. All at once, the ground gave a rumble. A soft sign of danger in the distance. The second beast. It grew louder and louder. Hungrier and hungrier. It started to shake the ground. It came to me. It grew and grew until–the ground split. The field that seemed neverending now had an end, and right in the middle, there was a crack. The whirlwind snatches me up into the sky. Yanks me one way. Then another. I’m crying for help, and for once, I hated being alone.

          All of a sudden, the whirlwind ceased. It dropped me. Down, into the crack. There’s no end. My entire world. My world of bliss crumbled. And fell. Falling into infinity. With me.

          I’m now sitting in my room. Staring into the sunset from my window. Surviving another winter. The wind plucks off the last leaf on the tree in the front yard, and slowly, it sinks into the ground. A salty tear falls from my cheek and onto my cat, sleeping peacefully next to my dog.