Untitled

Lights up

She spIns, round and round, her body a whirlwind of colourful fabric. In her mind an awestruck audience gazes at her gloWing form onstage. She smiles a brilliant smile and perfects another pIrouette. Then she sees him. He stands there, lurking in the shadows, haLf-hidden behind a bLood red curtain, watching her. His arms are crossed tightly agaiNst his chest and although his face rEflects the warm glow of the stage lights, his eyes are cold. "Chin up!" His voice booms across the theater. She stumbles and nearly falls, but catches herself just in time. She angles her face up towards the blinding lights. Even with her eyes closed she could see his disapproVal. "Keep your back straight! Lift your arms highEr! No! Don't lock your knees!" The commands fly at her, fast as shRapnel and just as sharp. She winces upon every word, feeling them like the swift taps of his metre stick whipping her body into position. "Faster!" She grits her teeth and spins faster. "Faster!" The world becomes a blur before her eyes. "FASTER!" Her limBs threaten to fall off, but she continues to wind hersElf tighter and tighter. Her crowd of admirers have lonG since disappeared, undoubtedly hOrrified by the uncontrollable hurricane that was once a girl, but they dOn't matter anymore. A thousand images flooD her mind, countless picturEs of her younger self biting back tears as he forced her to perfect stretches and splits, leaps and turNs, mercilessly mOlding her into a creatUre of grace and beauty. Hysteria invades her body. She screams. "Are you proud of me now!? Are you happy?" She explodes across the staGe in a series of indescribably fast movements, sHrieking. "Look at me! Are you watching? Are you proud of me yet!? Are you proud of me...."

A girl collapses on an empty stage. Her makeup is streaked with tears. Her hair, having long since escaped its once-neat bun, falls in ragged locks over her shoulders. Her clothing is ripped nearly to shreds. Her desperate cries echo from the stage, haunting the theater, but there is no one there to hear her.


Blackout

McGill

I think I've grown accustomed to the idea of missing you. Not losing you- just missing you.

Of Wooden Swords and Paper Crowns

He sits now by the riverbank,
His heart like the rock he skipped; it sank
Its dreams it took along with his
Down past the rippling surfaces

"How long ago?" he wonders aloud.
Though the stream makes no replying sound
"Since I was crowned a noble king
In this mystical kingdom ever shining?

"How long ago with my steed did I ride
Across this grassy countryside
To meet with my beloved maiden fair
And to help pick dandelions for her hair?

"We'd take turns in afternoons
Riding my horse fashioned from a broom
How could we forget our noble stallion
Whom we decorated with paper medallions?

"We'd fight dragons, win, and then we'd gloat
Parading across planks over the river moat
We'd draw pictures of our battle scenes for hours
Then show them off in our tree house towers

"And even after the battles died
We made bottle cap medals, worn with pride
Secured them tight with safety pins
On the old jacket of mine I felt bravest in

"My father's worn out hunting coat
Was the armor that I treasured most
It was scuffed and torn, but that to me
Was the very image of bravery

"Through battles fought with wooden swords
And the many kingdoms we explored
We always came home to adoration
As we humbly accepted our coronation

"Those were the days of true chivalry
When our lives fit together so perfectly
So sad that the world that meant so much to me
Is nothing now but a sweet memory"

And yet, as the sun sets over the field
A part of his mind cannot help but yield
The fleeting image of two silhouettes
Playing in a world they will never forget