Tag: #fiction

Dreaming

Dreaming

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 6 Comments

drowning

“I had that strange dream again.

I was drowning.

It was the same as the other times. I was 16 and visiting the ocean for the first time. I didn’t know how to swim but I let my friends drag me on a boat ride. But they’re not really my friends. I don’t think. It was a group of girls. I was sitting on the sand with a group of girls, and suddenly we’re all taken for a boat ride. We stop for a bit, far from the shore and everyone jumps off to swim around.

‘Jump in, Genesis,’ they yell at me. ‘We’ll help you swim.’

I tell them no. I don’t know how to swim. I’ve never been in the ocean. It’s scary. There’s sharks and what about jellyfish? They can swim and I’ll watch. But they keep on and on. They don’t stop pressuring me.

‘Jump in! Jump in!’

I can feel the judgement in their eyes. ’16-years-old and doesn’t know how to swim. How fucking lame.’

They laugh at me.

They’re laughing at me, doc! I didn’t do anything. But they’re fucking laughing at me. The jackass driving the boat starts laughing at me.

So I jump.

There’s cheering and then I can’t hear anything but the roar of water in my ears. I keep sinking. My arms are flailing. Reaching for a hand or a leg or a part of the boat. Reaching for something to hold onto. Something that will pull me out of the water. Something that will tell me I’m okay.

But there’s nothing, and I can’t breathe, I’ve swallowed water. My eyes are burning from the salt. I can’t see anything.

I try to hold onto what little breath I have but I can’t, I can’t. I clench my eyes closed and I try to scream.

And I wake up.

I’m breathless and sweaty and exhausted.”

Dr. Kein looks at me as she takes notes.

“What time is it when you wake up from this dream? Is it morning already? Middle of the night?”

“It’s usually happens in the morning when I have this dream. Right before I have to get up for work. Usually leaves me drained. I can’t function on drowning days.”

“Have you been able to figure out who the girls are in the dream?”

I shook my head. “They seem so familiar. Like I knew them, but it seems like a lifetime ago I was a teenager trying to fit in with girls who hated my guts.” I grimace and bring my legs up onto her cream couch. “I’m such a fucking cliché, doc. ‘Ooh I’m a teenage outcast desperate to fit in with mean popular girls who tease me and make my life hell.’ Sounds like a shitty coming of age movie. Except my movie didn’t get better, I just finally broke. I’m still a loser, and all the mean girls are just grown up now and we all live in the same fucking town and I don’t know who’s more pathetic, me or them.”

Dr. Kein smiled. “You are not a loser, Genesis. Remember that.”

“I’ll try.”

“Say it.”

“Please don’t make me.”

“Say it. ‘I am not a loser.'”

I hugged my knees. “I’m not a loser.” I mumbled.

“Again.”

I breathe deeply. “Please doc.”

She arched an eyebrow at me.

Sighing and raising my voice just above a whisper, “I. Am. Not. A. Loser.”

I look up at her hoping that was enough.

“Better. How are the new anti-depressants I prescribed working? It’s a lower dosage. Are you still nauseous?”

“No. I’m not nauseous. But I still feel a little lost.” I scrunch my eyebrows as I try to explain how I feel. “Like, I’m me, but fuzzy. I guess that’s better than how I was feeling?” I wasn’t sure. Before, I knew I was sad. I knew I was hurting. I knew I was a piece of shit and I could wallow in it, because it was the truth. The pain was almost delicious. It was mine.

But now? This was a drug-induced dullness. I could function without breaking down, the darker thoughts were under control, they were at bay. It was weird though. I didn’t know who I was anymore without my pain.

“Tell me more about the fuzzy feeling.”

“Like, every feeling, every emotion, are very dim versions of what they were. Which I can appreciate, I dunno. I just don’t feel like myself. I guess, I’ll get used to it.”

“Stay with it, just remember, if you start to have any suicidal thoughts, stop taking them and call me immediately.” A timer goes off. “You made it Genesis. Another full session. Good job!”

I smile sheepishly at her. There was a time where I’d just walk out, 10 minutes into our session and not appear for weeks. Dr. Kein called my mother– my emergency contact, and she started bringing me to my appointments and staying in the waiting room until I came out.

“Is there anything else you wanted to bring up before we finish?”

I shake my head and bend down to pick up my black boots and slide a foot inside.

“Okay Genesis. Remember, you are not a loser. You are not broken. You are healing, and you are doing your best.” She handed me a little note.

In the process of healing.

“Put it up on a mirror, on the fridge, next to your bed, somewhere you’ll see it on a daily basis. A reminder.” She smiled at me and I finished lacing up my boots and stood up.

“Thank you.” I placed it in my notebook and threw my book in my tote bag. “I’ll see you next week.” I walked out of her office and saw my mom waiting, half asleep, with a magazine in her hand. She looked up when she saw me.

“Ya, mija?”

“Si, mami. Let’s go.”

Last Call for the Wild Bunch

Last Call for the Wild Bunch

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 13 Comments

I haven’t been able to sleep since the pigeons got into the house.

It’s not like they keep me awake, just seems like their arrival coincided with my insomnia.

Now it’s me, Butch-Cassidy, the Sundance kid and The Wild Bunch.

Butch-Cassidy is home again. Steven left him here when he came for breakfast.

“Take care of your dog. He needs you, not me.”

Butch-Cassidy is the only reason I leave the house. He needs food. He needs to walk. I don’t need food and I could probably lay in bed forever.

Maybe I need him more than he needs me.

The Wild Bunch showed up about a week later. They must have realized my love of Wild West outlaws and figured the dog and the fish needed a gang.

They’ve made a roost in my pantry and since I’ve stopped buying food, I cant bring myself to care. They live next to an old box of knock off cereal and a container full of sugar.

Steven told me to get rid of them, but I’ve gotten used to the cooing– that and for being such chunky, slow birds they are rather difficult to catch.

After a couple attempts I made peace with them being my new roommates.

There’s flapping here and there throughout the day as they explore the back porch, but I drew the line at them actually coming inside the kitchen.

I don’t want bird poop on my things.

They got in the day of Butch-Cassidy’s bi-annual bath. I left the back door open while I chased Butch-Cassidy around the yard trying to bathe him.

Took me three hours to get him fully clean. When I came inside exhausted and wet and covered in white fur. I heard movement and immediately called out for my mother.

She is the only one with keys. Well, Steven has keys. I’m alive because Steven has keys. But Steven works during the day. I didn’t expect him to be over.

There was no answer.

Butch-Cassidy ran past me into the house.

My guard dog.

“Get him, Butch!” I yelled. “I don’t know who you are, but Butch Cassidy has killed before, and he’ll kill again!”

No answer. But there was wild barking from the pantry and the sounds of the last remaining food items crashing to the floor.

When I got inside I found Butch barking like a maniac at my three intruders. Three chubby little pigeons huddled together on my top shelf rustling their feathers and looking around warily.

“Could’ve been worse, could’ve been rats that got in,” I told Steven.

“Pigeons are flying rats.”

“Aw, I think they’re cute.”

“You’re in denial.”

“No, that’s a river in Egypt.” I laughed at my own wittiness.

“That’s not how that joke works.” He groaned.

“I thought it was funny.”

“They’re gross.”

“I will not have you speaking ill of the wild bunch in their own home.”

“This is not their home. It’s yours.”

I asked him to help me get rid of them, but he told me that was my job, and then hung up on me. He was still angry with me. I had avoided him for months after I was released from the hospital. And now I was calling him about my pigeons like nothing ever happened.

Getting the birds out felt impossible. They seemed to have grown tired of the wild life and chosen my pantry to retire in.

“Last call you crazy bandits!” I’d taken to leaving a little bird bath kind of water dish for them at night before going to bed.

I’ve caught them splashing in the water and it’s unbelievably adorable.

The birds give me something to focus on. Just like the dog. Just like the fish. Lives that are entirely dependent on me. In their own weird way they give me a sense of purpose.

My God, what has become of me?

I leave the water dish and head to the living room and sit on the couch.

“Butch-Cassidy!” I yell. And immediately I hear the jingling of his collar and the pitter patter of his paws as he trots from my bedroom to the living room.

“Up-up, little man.” I pat the cushion next to me, waiting for him to jump up. He hops on easily and stomps around in circles, kneading the couch until he deems it comfy enough to lay–which he does with his head in my lap.

“Good boy.”

I looked around for the control when I heard knocking at my door. Butch-Cassidy leaped off the couch and ran barking to the door.

I stood up, groaning at being inconvenienced after plopping down in my comfy spot.

“Who is it? We don’t want it.” I yelled.

“Open up, Genesis. You’re being evicted.” Came the voice from the other side of the door.

I run to the door, undoing the chain and flinging it open.

“Walter Carmine, don’t you dare evict me!” I scream before throwing myself at him.

I hadn’t seen Walter in months. I understood why he didn’t see me. He  couldn’t face it. I forgave him for it. Also when one of your best friends is the owner of your apartment building and hasn’t demanded you to pay your rent, you look past the fact that he couldn’t face seeing you in the hospital or during that time when you wouldn’t leave your bed and your mother forced you to shower.

“I heard you’re housing vermin in my building and I can’t have that.” He was holding a metal cage in his hand.

“Who told you about the Wild Bunch?” I asked as he walked in.

“You would name them wouldn’t you?” He shook his head and walked towards the kitchen.

“What? I couldn’t just call them the pigeons. That’s so déclassé.”

“Your mother called me and told me to do my job as a landlord and get rid of them. I told her, her daughter needs to pay her rent first and she told me who wants to pay rent when your apartment is infested.” He stopped at the pantry door and smiled. “It’s not easy arguing with your mother.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Ok, I’m going in. Shut the door behind me. I’m not coming out till I have them.” He opened the door and closed it quickly behind him.

“Oh my God, Genesis, have you been feeding them?”

“I couldn’t let them starve!” I was happy he couldn’t see me turn red.

There was flapping and angry cooing as Walter worked on capturing the birds. I could hear him swearing at the birds and could only imagine the scene.

I heard the container of sugar hit the ground and Walter screaming profanities.

“Don’t hurt them!” I yelled.

“I’m about to kill them all and feed them to Butch-Cassidy in a minute if I can’t catch this last bird.”

There was more cursing and finally the slam of the metal.

“I got them!” I opened the door to find a very disheveled and triumphant Walter holding the Wild Bunch in the cage. “Grab your jacket. We’ll take them to the old apple orchard and release then far from here so they don’t get any ideas.”

If it was possible for pigeons to look pissed, these sure did. He set them on my kitchen table and pulled out a cigarette carton.

I shot him a disapproving look and he shrugged.

“I think I deserve this one.”

I looked into the cage of my former roommates. “I’m sorry guys Walter says you can’t stay here anymore. And if it’s between you and me getting evicted, I’m gonna have to go with you. But you’ll be happier in the orchard it’s nice there and you can steal school kids’ field trip sandwiches.”

They just cooed at me. Like a very cross pigeon version of “whatever.”

“Stop taking to the birds and let’s go.” Walter had a cigarette in his mouth and his car keys in hand.

“I’m coming.”

We pulled up to the orchard’s main entrance and parked.

“Ok Gen, I’ll wait for you here.” We both got out. Walter leaned against his truck finishing his cigarette. The orchard was not well lit. I could only see his outline and the glowing embers of the cigarette as I walked away.

I reached a picnic table and set the cage down. Three sets of beady eyes looked up at me.

“This is the end guys. It’s been swell.” I opened the cage. They didn’t move. “Um, get out guys.”

More staring and feather rustling. I sighed and shook the cage. There was angry cooing and the birds fought against each other to get out.

I could hear Walter snickering in the background. I looked over and he was throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.

The birds were free and I could use my pantry again. Eventually. When I cleaned it and bought food.

I picked up the cage and and walked back to the truck.

“Good job, Gen. Please never keep a family of wild birds in that  apartment again.”

I hugged him.

“Thanks Walter.”

“You’re welcome kid.”

We got into the truck and drove back to my place in silence.

“Do you want to come in and watch a movie?” I asked when he parked.

“It’s late.”

“I don’t sleep and I could use the company.”

He turned off the car and opened the door.

“You’ll stay?” I asked, climbing out of the passenger side.

“One movie and I get to choose.” I groaned and smiled.

“Sure, you did just take care of my pigeon situation.”

We headed upstairs to a pigeon free apartment.

70. orchard, denial, ember, last call, insomnia, pigeons.

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Venus

Venus

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 16 Comments

Venus is the planet of love.

I read once that the heat on Venus creates a pressure so intense that standing on Venus would feel like the pressure felt 900 meters deep in Earth’s oceans.

Crazy right?

Sounds just like love.

My mother brought me a small potted cactus the other day. “Mira Geni, it looks like a little star.” I placed it on the windowsill of my kitchen, right above the sink.

It’s the only bit of green in my sunny yellow kitchen.

I like to stare at it whenever I do the dishes.

Which is twice a day to wash Butch-Cassidy’s bowl and to clean out the little container of food my mom drops off on Sundays.

She trusts me now to eat the food she brings me without her watchful eyes.

Before she would sit across from me at my bubblegum pink table and watch me as I forced myself to eat.

The color of the table seemed to bother her every time. She’d look down at it like it offended her by being so pink.

“Ay mi’ja.” She’d sigh and then order me to eat.

Love.

I miss the company.

There are bread crumbs on the counter from the peanut butter and honey sandwich I nibbled on earlier. I take the crusts and leave them in the bowl for the Wild Bunch, the family of pigeons that took up residence in my pantry. They won’t leave, and I haven’t kicked them out, so I just feed the bread and give them water and it seems like it’s working out okay.

Today I have a full sink, because for some reason I told Steven I would cook for him.

I was sitting on my couch watching a sappy movie and trying not to cry as the main characters finally have their first kiss when Steven called me.

“Are you crying?” He asked.

“No.” I sniffed.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Should I come over?” I could hear the panic in his voice.

Panic which is not unfounded given that he was the person who found me in a pool of my own vomit on my kitchen floor. In my sunny kitchen with my lemon yellow walls and my bubblegum pink table and mismatched chairs. My happy little room the scene of my attempted suicide.

Hearing your best friend crying by herself with only the menagerie of animals she keeps to protect her would be unsettling at the least.

“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’m watching a made for TV movie and they’ve finally found love.” I assure him.

“Can I come over to be sure?” No one really trusts me.

I don’t blame them.

“Come over.”

He came over and sat on my couch with me. We watched the end of the movie in silence. I watched. He watched me out of the corner of his eye. I did not look good.

I’d pulled my hair up in two messy buns, rinsed my face and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. But the water couldn’t rinse away the dark circles and hollows under my eyes from lack of sleep and from eating the bare minimum to survive.

“This movie is terrible.” He said. He reached down to rub Butch-Cassidy’s belly. Butch laid next to him after jumping all over him when he arrived.

After me, Steven is Butch’s favorite person in the world. He only likes my mom because she occasionally feeds him scraps.

“I know.” The movie ends and we sit there in silence.

“You know what I miss?” He asked me.

“What’s that?” I turned the TV off and shifted to face him.

“When you would get all ethnic and make the sweet mole with rice and homemade tortillas.”

I rolled my eyes. “‘Ethnic.'” He laughed.

“You know what I mean. You get all, ‘my mother taught me and her mother taught her and her mother taught her and the great eagle taught them all’ when you make it. I miss it.”

“‘Great eagle,’ mas pendejo,” I mutter and smile in spite of myself.

“Great eagle or whatever your people believed in.”

“Oh my gosh Steven I’m about to sick Butch-Cassidy on you if you don’t stop.” We laugh as we look at Butch-Cassidy, belly up on the floor at Steven’s feet, snoring.

“Your ancestors demand the sweet brown mole… and handmade tortillas…” He trailed off.

Cooking requires effort.

Cooking requires care and a love for the food and for the ones who will consume it.

Cooking requires a desire to give some kind of shit.

Love means giving some kind of shit.

I exhale slowly. And watch him. He looks nervous. Like he pushed too far. Like the suggestion of me doing anything that required effort may have already mentally exhausted me.

“Well, I am a really good cook,” I whisper.

He chuckled. “I guess.”

“We’ll see if I feel like it and maybe I’ll invite you over.” I smile at him and we sit quietly until he says it’s late and heads home.

Because Venus reflects so much sunlight, it is usually the brightest planet in the night sky.

I wonder if it’s because of this brightness that they decided this planet would best represent love in the night skies. Love makes you glow.

I stir the pot of mole and turn the heat low as I start on the dishes.

13. first kiss, a planet, a type of plant, bread crumbs

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Distance

Distance

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 6 Comments

She waited impatiently for the text she was scared would never come, fighting sleep in the hopes that he hadn’t fallen asleep and forgotten about her.

“Maybe he’s over you.”

No. She couldn’t think that. He loved her. He said so. He couldn’t be so cruel as to forget to say goodnight to her.

“When was the last time he did that?”

It’d been a while. She just assumed that since they’d been talking for such a long time he’d fallen out of the habit. But she’d texted him first. Hoping he would at least smile and reply.

“He won’t.”

The small voice in the back of her mind had slowly gotten louder in the past year. And his voice and his interest had slowly diminished.

They were drifting apart, and she wasn’t ready for what that could mean.

She set her phone on the nightstand and let sleep overcome her.

Flesh

Flesh

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 20 Comments

I wake up to the sensation of your fingers lightly tracing circles on my hip. I feel the warmth of your breath on my neck and press back against you as I stretch and yawn.

It’s only just past dawn and the soft light streams through the open windows.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Good morning, beautiful.”

You nuzzle my neck and I giggle. Your beard tickles me like it always does and I sigh with contentment.

Mornings and you.

The warmth of your flesh against mine.

The smell of your skin which lingers even after you leave me for another day of work.

“I wasn’t sure when you were waking up. And I didn’t want to wake you up the way I did last time. I ended up with a knee to the face.” You laugh and I groaned. I remembered the looks people would give us. Walking in the park, you me and Butch-Cassidy, the tall tattooed bearded man with the pink haired little princess and the golden retriever. You looked like you’d just gotten out of a bar fight when in reality your girlfriend has really good reflexes.

“I’m sorry. You know how ticklish I am. It was just a reaction. I made it up to you didn’t I?” You growl in my ear before positioning yourself above me.

“Yes you did. It made the black eye worth it.” You lean down to kiss me, laughter in your mouth as your tongue parts my lips.

I live for your kisses.

I live for your touch.

You pull away and I sigh again.

“I told my team that my lover beats me, but I like the abuse.”

“Shut up.” I smack your chest.

“See? It’s only six am and you’re already hitting me. I love it.” You kiss me again. Harder. Giving my lip a little bite as you kiss your way down my chin, my neck and down to my chest. I close my eyes hoping you’re going to continue moving your lips further down my body.

“My God, you have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.” You tell me before gently taking my nipple into your mouth.

I gasped as you suck and lick. “Oh stop.” I moan.

You look up at me, confused. “You want me to stop?”

I opened my eyes. “Oh no. Please don’t stop that. I meant stop saying ridiculous things.” I felt myself turning red. “My breasts are not the most beautiful breasts you’ve ever seen. They’re just normal boobs.”

“Calling your breasts normal, is blasphemous. Never say those words again.” I laugh. “Your boobs are perfect and beautiful and I’m the lucky bastard that gets to play with them whenever I want. Like this.” You press your face between my breasts and blow bubbles as I laugh and push you away.

“Ok ok! I get it.” We both laugh. I reach up and trace the outline of your lips.

You look down at me and I watch the laughter in your eyes fade as it’s replaced with desire and lust. I can feel you hard against me and I spread my legs for you.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” You kiss me again and I reach for your cock. I stroke you as your tongue explores my mouth, little moans escaping my lips and yours

You reach for my hand and hold it above my head, our fingers intertwined as you guide your cock between my lips. You gently cup my cheek before sliding inside of me.

You moan and close your eyes as the length of you fills me. I wrap my legs around you. Pulling you closer to me, holding you inside me.

You open your eyes and smile at me as you pull out and thrust back into me.

Your rhythm is slow and steady. Sleepy and unrushed. I reached up and wrap my arms around your neck as you move in and out of me.

“Why do you feel so good?” I gasped.

“Why do you?” You reply. Leaning down you kiss my neck, lightly sucking as you pick up speed.

I dig my nails into your back.

“Harder.” I moan.

You smirk. And start slamming your thick cock inside of me harder and harder. I drag my nails down your back and scream as you start pounding my pussy.

“Oh fuck!”

You laugh and shush me. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

I don’t give a fuck about the neighbors. All I care about is you and me. Your skin against my skin.
Your lips wandering from my lips to my neck to my breasts.

“Fuck the neighbors.” I cry out.

You give my neck a little bite. “I could, but I don’t think they’ll be as fun as you.”

I slide my hands down to your ass and give it a hard smack.

“Ouch!” You cry out and you thrust hard inside of me.

“Ah!” I cry out. “Do it again.”

“You first.”

I giggle as I feel my orgasm start building.

“Oh fuck, babe don’t stop. I’m gonna come.” I throw my head back and close my eyes as I grip your back.

You grab a fistful of my hair and pull my face towards yours. “Look at me.” You order.

I open my eyes and look up at your blue grey ones. My breath coming fast and short as waves of pleasure run over my body. I moan your name as I reach my peak.

You lean down and kiss me hard and start fucking me faster. I can feel the urgency in your kiss. You’re almost there.

We part lips. “Come for me.” I whisper.

“Fuck.”

You move my legs over your shoulders and enter me deeper and harder with every thrust.

I feel another orgasm building.

You kiss my leg and groan and I feel you finish inside me.

You put my legs down and sigh as you softly slide in and out of me, filling me with every drop of your warm come.

You look down at me and stroke my face while your other hand moves down between my thighs, gently rubbing my clit.

“Ohh…” I whimper, already close to the edge I come again with you still inside me.

“Good girl.” You pull out of me and give your fingers a lick before kissing me again. You rest your weight on me briefly before laying next to me.

I curl up on your chest. My fingers playing with your chest hair as you wrap your arm around me.

“You make it very hard to leave in the mornings.” You say as you twirl my hair around you finger.

“You make it hard to be by myself all day.” I mumble.

We lay like that for a few moments before his alarm goes off. He kisses my forehead before getting out of bed.

“Wake me before you leave.” I tell him.

“Of course.” He gives my breast a squeeze and chuckles as he walks to the bathroom.

I smile and wrap myself in our blankets and turn towards the windows.

I drift off with the warmth of the morning sun on my face.