Page 20 - Diane Musgrove Issue
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INCREDIBLE  KIDS  OF  SAN  DIEGO
                                                                         hree daughters, 48 states, one trailer, 14 years of my life.
        my very own handwriting. The   me, you don't want to see that."   It feels like I am Peter Pan, who has forgotten about Nev-
        loopy letters spelled my mantra,   he said somberly, "I can help you   erland. A place that must be forgotten in order to keep
        the thought that runs through   without you needing to know   Tit special. It’s been decades since we were those children
        my head at least once a day. "Lo-  your original fate." I laughed.   here, and it’s been over a decade since I’ve seen or spoken to my
        tus flowers meant rebirth to my   "But that's the thing, isn't it," I   Dad. But here he is, in a tiny black box. The river calling out to
        mother. They grew in disgusting   began, "Doesn't this mean I was   him, begging to sweep him away under its waves.
        waters and turned into perfectly   meant to die soon? That it was   I sat on my knees in the middle of the field, halfway between
        crafted flowers. Is that what   God's plan or something?" The   the road and the river. It was very windy and very warm. The high
                                                                     grass surrounded me, and my hair tickled my shoulders as the
        she hoped for herself? For me?   ghost shook his head, his face   wind whipped it into submission. I couldn’t seem to take another
        Could that be me?"         turning pale with defeat. "Not    step, so I sat there for a moment, on my knees, in the hot sun,
           "Are you okay?" the boy   this. These types of deaths were   taking in what was about to happen. I wrestled with my thoughts
        asked me after a moment. I   never his plan." I loosened my   as I held back the tears of the gravity of the situation. I clutched
        wiped at my wet eyes with the   hold on the book.            onto a small black box in my arms, holding it tightly to my chest.
        sleeve of my jacket. "Who are   "Go ahead. Open it. See for   It all felt like such a loss, not just his death but also his life. It all felt
        you?" I sputtered, laying the   yourself! Just don't say I didn't   so futile, and I was left with so many questions.
        book closed on the table. He   warn you. Either way, I'll make   The river was only a few yards ahead of me. I could hear its
        shrugged sadly, his mournful   sure you stay safe and alive."  rushing waters and the wind blowing through the leaves of the
                                                                     trees surrounding the river bank. I can feel that it wants to car-
        gaze resting on the book. I began   I looked down at the book.   ry him down, swallow him whole, nourish its plants and trees. It
        to turn the pages to the end. He   It seemed to grow in weight, or   wants to use his body to feed the flowers and the fish. It wants to
        slammed the book close on my   was it just my imagination? Did   transform his energy into growth. I feel a magnetic pull between
        hand, ignoring my cry of pain.  I want to do this? Would there   his ashes that I’m clutching onto and the river in front of me.
           "I already told you! The   be any going back? The boy        I ask the river if there is some other way. But I know it must be
        recent drawings can show your   watched me helplessly. His face   done; he must go, and he can never return. I’ll never get a chance
        future!" he exclaimed, "You don't   was wound with worry. I began   to see him again in this lifetime. Our relationship has ended the
        want to see that stuff..." I pulled   to turn to the last page. He   only way it could have. It was destined to end in sorrow and sad-
        my hand out. "And why not? Do   sucked in a sharp breath.    ness. My father was a traveling preacher, singer, and the soul to
                                                                     whom I was karmically bound through five different lifetimes.
        I die?" I asked teasingly, holding   I'd be stabbed to death. I'd
        my wrist as I opened and closed   be murdered. Murdered by the
        my injured hand. He stared at   very man that grabbed my wrist
        me for a long time before saying,   on the bus the other day. There
        "Yes, you die. And I didn't like   was a moving countdown on the
        how it happened or how soon it   page. I'd have two days, twen-
        occurred." I shot out of my seat,   ty hours, thirty-two minutes,
        knocking into the table. I caught   and fifteen, fourteen, thirteen
        my coffee cups before any traces   seconds to live. "Soon, huh?" I
        of it could spill. "Soon? And   croaked. The boy jumped to my
        what?! I die horribly??" I shouted  aid. "Everything will be fine. I
        at him, slamming the cups   won't let him hurt you," he an-
        down. The barista gave me a   nounced as he pulled the book
        funny look, and I quieted. "Was   out of my hands, tossing it onto
        this the thing you were gonna   the table. He kneeled directly
        help me with?!" I hissed, "Why   in front of me, saying, "We're in
        didn't you approach me earlier?"   this together now. You and me.
        The boy was quick to answer.   The lotus flower and the ghost."
        "My plan was to save you on   I looked at him, my face twisted
        the last day!" he cried. I scoffed,   with sadness, rage, and fear. "We
        "Yeah?! How! You were gonna   won't let these murky waters
        sweep me away or something?!   drown you. You will survive."
        How do you know if it would   the boy said. I nodded. It was
        even be possible to save me from   all I could do. But how do you
        my death!" He quickly glanced   prevent a murder when you're
        at the book. I hugged it towards   the one being killed?
        my chest before he could make a
        move to grab it.               Laya Grace Aichle
           "Give me the book," he      layaaichle@gmail.com
        ordered. I shook my head. "Trust


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