–yet another excerpt from the upcoming, The SINGULARITY of SASHA
Most days Sasha felt like a knotted chain. Not something delicate and precious sought by hopeful fingers from a beloved box lined in pink and attended by a twirling plastic ballerina, but more akin to the angry and heavy spool of an upturned ship at the bottom of the sea. Barnacles. Long-legged denizens of the deep clambering over her disjointed links.
She’d once had such a box. Some nights, when sleep was a nervous thing that darted and kept itself at a shadowy distance, she thought about her old possessions. She recalled her jewelry box and the things it kept.
A fish. A paper fish. A day with father and a man behind a counter who fashioned her fish from paper. Right before her eyes. She saw that day that no one should be dismissed. A simple man she thought was nothing, he proved in ten seconds that he could nimble paper into fins.
But that was a life ago.
Someone from another room, her dream father maybe, told her to ‘turn that damned idiot box off.’ She closed her jewelry box lid. Silenced her ballerina. She ran from the room of lopsided walls where the cathode ray tube struggled in one corner with its role of being recovered technology.
She tried to silence herself.
Not much good that did.
She could not do it and no one would have noticed if she succeeded. The first point was a struggle long in the understanding, and the latter was a revelation that came like new breath after a dive deep into a place where the bottom shimmered with promises and mysteries much more fantastical than that refuse left behind on dry ground. Down there, between the ink, there lay coins and precious things long-lost; there swam creatures seldom–if not ever–seen. It would be better to drown in their pursuit than wallow upstairs in the thick of going nowhere.
And then the madness congealed.
The world fell apart.
She had another dream…was it a dream? Babies cried as things flew from windows but did not fall down. Newton was denied. School lessons well-learned be damned. Into the sky the detritus of panicked mankind flew and took wing. Not in a swirl as though caught on a wind. No…just away. Like Mother’s angry inhalation took them up. Too many scattered toys needing to be put in some proper place. Put away for the night.
Sasha had wrestled with herself for many years now, determined to defeat the reality of her past. The victor would be the lie that rewrote history to say it had all been a dream. That moment. The dark change.
So much for that.
There would be no silence.
The world had unfolded like that pretty origami fish. Just flat paper now. Creased with the memory of the fine thing it once was. A broken and bland thing, suited for nothing but discarding, like so many toys a child cherishes and then forgets.
No difference did four thousand odd days make. Time had healed no wounds. The truth, a bitch of a goddess, she had festered like another fish, this origami beauty tired of bottom-feeding, squirming up through the veins and muscle of worry to break surface and catch a glimpse of the sun. But never interrupting the surface. No. Instead she joins. Becomes one. Spreading. Neither succeeding nor defeated. Floating to mate with the surface like a lily pad. Just another part of the whole. A link in the organism.
Or so Sasha dreams.