Inside Out

I wear an invisible cloak. Sometimes it rests on top of my clothes, people could touch it if they bumped into me.

It covers me in the shower when I have no clothes on at all.

It is there when I crawl under the covers at night, especially there, where my husband senses its vague outline. He feels it when it settles over us.

We used to take such joy in loving each other when we were learning new intimate, landscapes. We had hope, then, that our actions would lead to a new life with ten fingers and ten toes to count and kiss. We made up stories about returning to the countryside on the weekends so our mothers and grandmothers could dote on the next generation.

But hope faded month after month with dripping blood and tears. It became difficult to smile, reach out, and try again.

The cloak clings to me, squeezing like a metal band around my chest whenever we are around parents with babies and small children.

When my monthly cycle stopped, we let down our guard, the cloak went askew. We kept our secret close, not letting anyone know that we were thinking about names.

Our bubble was fragile. It glowed like a bright sun glittering in raindrops sticking to bamboo leaves in spring. And it was oh-so-brief. The gynecologist popped the bubble with a single word, “tumor.”

After that, we couldn’t even fight about our problem, blaming it on drinking, smoking, or wearing tight fashion underwear instead of boxers that allow seed pouches to cool and swing freely.

The cloak was back, making it so that we faced opposite walls, whispering, ‘good night,’ into a dark, desolate emptiness.

By the 1990s, we learned who had manufactured the cloak.

An alternate definition of rape is a violation, plunder, or abuse. What is it called when a rapist is a system, an industry operating with full knowledge about the harm they cause?

I was recruited out of high school, off my family farm in Yongin. They bussed girls into the city, providing housing. I felt so important! My mother would finally be able to buy enough food to satisfy every apatite at our table.

They outfitted us in clean suits and gloves. We looked like surgeons. In air-conditioned rooms, they trained us to etch patterns into chips. But they forgot to mention that the EGE solutions we used would penetrate our gloves and soak into our skin.

Imagine how I felt when the oncologist reported that my blood tests showed EGE levels six-hundred times higher than normal. Poison was the father of my tumor baby.

“They stopped using those in the states years ago,” the doctor said, “when they learned about their effects on reproductive health.” Pity showed in his eyes before he looked away.

I still wear my cloak to bed, it absorbs the tears that used to be for the baby. It wraps grotesquely around me, cradling my growth.

 ______

This short story was inspired by the article, American Chip Makers Had a Problem. Then They Outsourced It.

It was written as a Wattpad entry for #MyHandMaidsTale contest.

 

 

Hitch’n

whn

“My entire life has been lies,” thought JJ as his boots tapped out a rapid tattoo. “It’s a sham, a false reality that everyone has purchased a slice of. There is no path to success. It’s just consumption, power mongering, and environmental destruction.”

JJ had left a monument in the center of his neatly made bed. His diploma from Wharton University, crumbled into a ball, and his wallet. Inside it was $250 in cash, his credit cards, and his driver’s license. JJ’s vehicle registration and passport completed the assembly. On top of everything, he’d left a cryptic note, Mom, you won’t be able to find me where I am going.

At the time that JJ had written it, he’d been seething with anger, wanting to lash out. Even in that highly charged state, he realized that it sounded like a suicide note. He didn’t want anyone to assume that he’d taken the easy way out. JJ added, When I find what I am looking for, I’ll be in touch.

His backpack was light. It contained a Swiss Army knife, a flashlight, a set of magnets his father had given him on his sixth birthday and the tiny ceramic jar (containing his baby teeth) that his mother had saved.

On the deserted road, a car’s approach could be heard from a long way off. Confidently, JJ made a fist with his thumb pointing up, holding it out.

A wind kicked up in all directions. The air buzzed and crackled. But JJ didn’t look around, he kept striding. A bright light appeared in front of him.

That made him stop. A large bubble, about fifteen feet in diameter, emerged. It undulated as if it were alive, growing increasingly fatter, straining at its surface.

With a pop, it burst. In its place, stood JJ’s dream car.

It made no sound as it crept forward, stopping at his side. The driver’s side door opened. When JJ leaned down to peer inside, he only saw darkness. For a moment, he thought about his note, maybe it was a suicide note…maybe not.

JJ got in.

_______________

Vistual Writing Prompt:  WritetoDone website – in 350 words or less, write about what happened next – November 2016

Water: Element of Life

A colorful photo essay about the water cycle and environmental issues. 

Essential for organic sentience, this element possesses no emotions, opinions or thoughts.

It is constantly moving.

All life on Earth is born from it.

Water nurtures.

Historically, its greatest value has been its service as a tool for growth, enterprise and harnessing energy.

We cannot function without it. Yet it is given little consideration.

Air currents, temperature, gravity, explosion and evaporation move it.

Behaviors: magnifies, reflects, refracts, filters, carves, sculpts, moves, floats, collects, replenishes, hydrates, irrigates, delivers, incubates, oxygenates, stores, and stagnates.

Thinkers call it: sparkling, clear, clean, refreshing, quenching, baptizing, muddied, polluted, and toxic.

Its Forms: snow, ice, vapor, gas, mist, fog, cloud, drop, rain, downpour, waterfall, flood, puddle, stream, river, lake, delta, estuary, bay, channel, cesspool, sea, waves, and tsunami.

Encapsulated in a solar system biosphere, this element doesn’t care if it’s solid or liquid, clear, cloudy or if is contaminated, and lethal.

The delicate planetary water balance of Earth has shifted.

Humans are responsible.

We MUST care for or world-home.

Sloppy housekeepers get evicted.

“You are not a drop in the ocean, but the ocean in a drop.” – Rumi

 

Story Prompt: #7/200Challenge – Twitter @GHowellWhite1

Choose a topic from writing prompts given during a seven-day period and write a two-hundred word story.

Topic:  Point of view of a raindrop.

Inspiration:  A single raindrop is only a small part of a greater whole – water. This idea stirred my inner environmentalist and the result is a photo essay that conveys the beauty and fragility of a substance that is essential for life.

Check out my Redfern Studio blog for research notes and plastic pollution reduction resources, water facts and discussion about human behavior.