Tuesday, April 13, 2010

bloody sunday

i am fixing her sunday shoes, she slips, kicks me in the face and breaks my nose.

I am bloody and late for service. a brunette woman drags me out by the arm, says i don't belong. I say i was the first one here didn't you see? my nose got broke, i left to clean up. She says you obviously have no respect. i say please don't touch me. she pushes me faster towards the door. i say, please do not touch me. she hits me. this is assault. i tell her so. she says you are not a christian. i say this is true, but i am a woman of good will and virtue. she laughs psychotically in my face. she drags me towards an office. i say i will not fight you back, but i dont see the good in what you are doing. christ would show me mercy. she says you know nothing of christ. i threaten to call the cops. i plead with a blonde woman to control her. she seems sympathetic. but once my back is turned she begins to cut my clothes away with the scissors in her hand. the two push me back out into the lobby.

i do not fight back.
to prove my virtue.

she cuts away. the brunette digs her nails into my forehead and scratches away at my skin. blood comes down my face. i cover myself. i beg to the crowd of people in the lobby to help me, ask if they agree with what is happening. they shake their heads no. i plead with them to call the police. no one does. they all know they should.


they have me on the floor. they pull and push and scratch at my skin. call me a heathen, a satanist. mock me for titling myself virtuous. hit me for saying i respect jesus. they scrape my skin with the scissors. say 'i wonder what she looks like on the inside. witches don't bleed red.'

i am bleeding all over their carpet and it is red. i fear for my life. i weaken and make myself shout something about seeing the lord, about truly understanding him. i go limp on my belly and shout i am saved i am saved i am saved!

their hollering turns to laughter, ecstatic and shrill. they pull my head up of the ground by my hair then let it drop back down. they take the scissors and scrape down the center of my scalp. slowly at first, then dig deeper and deeper. someone cuts off a large piece of my hair. i grimace and weep. they all begin taking chunks and more chunks and cutting into my scalp.
swarming around me like some sort of bugs.
they are the witches.

Monday, April 12, 2010

sorry victim of time travel

***so many things happen before this***

i have traveled back in time. i am on a plane. i get up. Turbulence forces me to sit down next to this pepper grey-haired woman and a baby. I know this is flight 5. I know this plane crashes. I am not scared. I will make myself go to sleep at the right moment. Smoke-hazy-nebula-like glow floats through the air. Nobody panics because as it moves forward towards us, we assume it will pass. and once it passes it will gone. We think it's a chemical reaction. Not a fire in the engine. the baby yells "fuck!"

I dodge the first few large pieces of scrap metal. Little bits hit me in the forehead and cheeks, then my hands when i cover my face. i duck behind the chair in front of me and pull the pieces out. I thought this would hurt more, but in the moment each piece is like a urgently dull reality.

I am in a small chamber half the size of an airplane bathroom. A stewardess is being sucked down a tube much like they use at a bank drive through. Her face is covered with an oxygen mask. "The cowards!" i think to myself. I step in take a deep breath and hold my nose. The worst that will happen is I die. I would die in the chamber. I am spit out at the airport. This is an escape route for pilots and stewardesses during a crash. How fucked up. The lady working at the receiving end is surprised to see me. She asks if there's anyone behind me. I say no, but then i hear some sort of sound from the tube like there is...

I'm dumped in new york. It is 2009, but 9/11 has just happened. Really it's 1999 and my life is at the place it was in 2007. I know i can call David, but I don't remember his number. I figure I can go to my apartment and help me with whatever trouble i know i'm going through at this time, but i'm afraid to alter history. I am a sorry victim of time travel.

I am on a plane. it looks much like an auditorium. It is "airtran" A man takes up three seats next to me, laying down, lounging and what have you. He is sprawled out on all four seats with a large pan. I go to the bathroom to observe my dressed wounds. I am nervous about the flight. I watch my life for the past bit pass before my eyes. Kalonopin and vodka. "danielle!" the man says firmly, "Do you want Vegetables, Nuts, or Meat?" What? he points to the stewardess to my left "when the food comes..."
"oh,...vegetables."
I apologize to the man and explain i am confused. I consider telling him about my time travel problem. He asks me where i'm from. I say i'd love to answer that but i dont think i should (unfortunately you can't go back to your family if you've traveled through time....because you are there. you can't have any association to yourself). He asks why. I said i had an accident, i may or may not remember. I thumb a paper nervously in my hand.
I get a piece of paper filled out about the flight. My permanent address is listed as 1143 (or 147) Ascot something Trace pl. Newton, GA. The mailing address is a p.o. box with CA CA scribbled at the bottom.
"Well you have some reason in california" i look at him confused. "that address is in chico california." I'm still stuck with a confused look---thinking why i had a p.o box in chico california. "this flight goes to l.a. though i suppose you don't know that either..." I shake my head no --blame it on the accident. He asks if i got some sort of brain injury. I say no. I was on flight 5. "oh...." he says. "Do you know anything about time travel?" i ask. He looks at me with a "yes, but no" look on his face.
He pauses a moment and says,"i've spent most of my whole career work and campaigns on plane crashes. once a woman asked me to help with this aids program they were having. i said i couldn't do it. she got pretty mad, said i was insensitive...asked, how could you not care about a cause like aids? And i said...well because aids has never had any direct impact on my life. ...you know last time i went to california, i flew in twice, just to prove i could do it."

---i assume this man was on my plane with me, i assume he was behind me in the escape tube. i assume he ended up on the flight in the first place because it was attached some sort of wormhole. he is stuck in the same some sort of time travel warp dilemma as i

wake.