salvation.

ii. Martyr Me

“Agnes, the bones. I saw his bones. Black, charred, sucked dry. Agnes, you have to get away from here.”
Angelica’s blood red eyes are rolling wildly from side to side. My fingers leave pale yellow indentations on her forehead, her cheeks, her chin as I try to hold her still so Dr. Constance can administer the anesthesia. Angelica has never taken well to the electro shock treatments, but without them she is barely human.
Another orderly rushes in and helps me grab hold of Angelica. I watch as Dr. Constance inserts the syringe and Angelica’s body goes limp.
“Rest now Angel. You’ll be alright when you wake,” I whisper as I gently stroke her tousled blond hair.
The brightly lit corridors of the hospital daunt me with their infinite silence. I hear soft moans emanating from Angelica’s room and unlock her door.
“My skin…can you see my skin Peter? It feels…I feel fire. It’s going to swallow me whole. Peter, I need some water…”
Angelica’s pleas rise in a steady crescendo of fear and desperation.
“It’s Nurse Agnes. Do you want a glass of water Angel?”
“Agnes…Agnes, it’s my skin. The outer layer. Can you see how red it is? Agnes, tell me you can see my flesh boiling.”
“Darling, your skin is fine. You’re not on fire. Let me open the window. It’s warm in here.”
I release the catch on the window, exposing the steel black bars. Before I can turn around, Angelica has my ponytail in her tightly closed fist, tugging me back toward the door. I lose my balance and fall awkwardly, the base of my skull slamming into the tiled floor.
“Angel! What the hell are you doing?” I manage to yelp.
She’s on top of me, hands placed firmly on my shoulders, pinning me down, her face inches from mine. Her breathing is shallow, exhaling and inhaling short spurts of air, her dark eyes locked onto mine.
“Helena, listen to me—the demons are inside the building. I heard them chanting through the pipes. They’re coming for our souls. Helena, we need to leave now before they find us.”
“Angelica, you have to get off of me. Angelica, it’s me, your nurse. Please Angel, let me up, you’re hurting me,” I plead with her, hoping to snap her out of this manic state.
I look up as the door swings open and Joshua is standing there, his eyes darting from Angelica mounted on top of me to the expression of terror on my face.
“Angelica! Get off of Nurse Agnes,” Joshua yells.
Angelica blinks twice, her stare vacant, her breathing somewhat normal again.
“Agnes, goodness why am I on top of you? What happened?”
Angelica releases her grip and stands up. She puts her hand out, offering to help me off the floor. She kneels down next to her bed, hands clasped together and closes her eyes.
“I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord…”
I leave Joshua to tend to Angelica, as I make a quiet exit, Apostles’ Creed ringing in my ears.


iii. Demonic Disguises

“Angelica, stop fucking praying. No one is listening to your crazy psycho babble bullshit. THE ALMIGHTY GOD IN HEAVEN ISN’T LISTENING. Don’t you understand that by now?”
I jab my finger at the bone colored crucifix on the wall, “Jesus didn’t die for your sins. Yours are beyond forgiveness Angelica. You’re doomed to hell.”
She stops muttering her ridiculous incantations long enough to look at me and reply, “The Lord is in all of us Joshua. Even you darling.”
“Oh, really? Did Mary Magdalene tell you that in your sleep? That I’m your savior in disguise. Too fucking bad. I’m not your heaven sent angel. I torched my wings last week.”
Angelica gets off the floor and turns to me, “Joshua, take me outside. Can we go for a walk now?”
The grounds of the mental institution are spacious and ironically beautiful for such a depressing place. We move amongst the neatly trimmed garden filled with richly colored flowers of all types—lilies, petunias, and crape myrtles. My senses are hypnotized by the mixture of floral fragrances.
Angelica has her arm linked through mine, her hand shoved into my right pocket. She seems calm for the moment—normal. I know why she allows me to spit obscenities at her and denounce her faith. And I know that she will always ask me to keep visiting her. It is how she reminds herself of her impurities; I am her executioner, her punisher.
She reaches up and methodically fingers the small circular imprints around my neck.
“Joshua, these marks have not disappeared yet. The incident was so long ago it seems. Perhaps they have become permanent.”
“Angelica, you tried to strangle me with your fucking rosary beads. I think one of them actually punctured my goddamn skin. I don’t think the scars are going to go away anytime soon.”
“Oh, Joshua, I’m sorry. I thought the demons had infested your soul…I thought they were going to take you away from me. I had a nightmare that Porphyry was chasing me with burning scripture, threatening to gouge my eyes out. And when I woke, I thought that Lucifer was in our bed trying to drag you down into the depths so I grabbed my rosary beads and wrapped them around his neck, hoping to deter him somehow…but it was really you, Joshua. I thought you were the devil.”
Angelica’s nightmares and visions still make me uneasy. But I know that I can do nothing to assuage them. If there is a God, then maybe she was meant to have these spiritual episodes.
“I’m not the devil. You’re not a saint. Or a martyr. You’re a psychotic woman in desperate need of medication and electroshock therapy. Face it Angelica, your illness has destroyed your sanity.”
Angelica drops to her knees, meeting the hard concrete and she erupts into heart racking sobs.
“Joshua, why do you torment me? What have I done to receive such brutal punishment?”
Her back is hunched over and her hands are covering her face, her body shaking uncontrollably. I look down at her frail figure. I listen to her strained cries.
And I say to her, “Don’t you remember? You murdered our only son.”

saviors.

I…I am not crazy. This is what they tell me. Deep puddles in their eyes and golden flakes of skin chipping off of their finely constructed statues. But… I am crazy. I don’t know what kind of crazy. This is what I tell myself. Because to you I am just another her, just another she, another it. And… and their eyes, they get so big and wide, wounded lambs sacrificial offerings to God. But their fucking eyes and darting tongues. They hold me, pet me, stroke me. Whispers, frantic hushed sentences.
I… I swear I am not crazy. And this is what I tell myself before I am thrown into salty waves, gulping sodium and seaweed, praying for a lifeboat and rescue team … (I am not crazy)…. Until I scream BE MY SALVATION.
Infinite corridors, the red walls hug my skin, seep through my pores, ignite my blood. I feel the flames dancing on my ribcage but I do not falter.
A book falls through the ceiling and lands at my naked feet. I pick it up and stare at the words, etched in gold letters on the cover: HOLY BIBLE. The page I open to Luke Chapter 13, verse 12… woman you are released from your infirmity… ink begins to drip off the page. The pages explode with searing orange flames… an inferno trapped within scripture.
Incoherent screams rip from my vocal chords. Blood tears pour steadily down my cheeks and I am beating the crimson walls wildly wishing to break through the cement.
Voices taunting me, “no one can save you.”

My heart, the size of my fist.
Encased in strings, as he delicately strums a melodic progression of chords: F Major 7.
His clear blue eyes, all I see are his clear blue eyes.
And he strums, A Minor.
All I feel are his silky curls intertwining with my fingers.
The stubble on his chin kisses the cracked surface of my parched lips.
And he strums, G.
The smooth contours of his muscles tense under the pressure of my curious hands.
He plays bitter sweet melodies on my soul strings,
And he strums, D Minor.
Our bodies are mere instruments, performing symphonies only audible to our ears,
Serenading the darkness hidden within.

The last chord resonates within me as cold metal awakens my senses. I am bound to this table of nightmares. Nurse Agnes hovers over me, shadows daunting me from the white plastered walls. I am not here.
“Angelica, hold still. We’re not going to hurt you.”
The starched uniform whispers poison into my ears.
Please go away.

multiple person perspective (literally)

Plot (created by me)

A teenage girl has locked herself in the bathroom to hide from the intruder that has entered her house. She has no means of communication and no visible weapons that she can use to protect herself. The intruder is ransacking the house and is unaware that someone is in the house with him.



Intruder (written by John)

After taking the family’s valuables, I fixed myself a snack. I ate potato chips, left over steak, and kimchee. There was no rice in the rice cooker. I washed it down with Soju. That was a kick ass snack. I’m gonna take a leak before I make my escape. I can’t help it. I begin to break down and cry. My conscience is getting to me. I’m unemployed, broke and living in a tent. I use to work at the fuckin’ factory. I gave them forty years of my life. As I try to push the bathroom door I hear a whimper.

“Is any body there?” I shouted.

There was no reply. I knocked again and shouted louder.

“I won’t hurt you. Please open up.





Teenage girl (written by Libertie)

Holy shit, holy shit….Think, quick, what am I gonna do? Where is my fucking cell phone? Did I tell mom I love her?

Oh my God, he’s coming! I’m gonna die…what if he rapes me?

He tries to open the door and I try not to make a sound.

“Is any body there?” he shouted.

I stayed silent. He tried the door again and shouted again

“Open up. I won’t hurt you”

I didn’t know what to do. I was trembling.

“ I am very flexible and have taken many self defense classes. Either you get out of here now or I am gonna open up a serious can of whoop ass on you” I shouted

“Sweetheart, I am not here to hurt you. Just come on out and lets talk” he said.

“Listen guy, Im no fucking idiot. You came here to rob my house and now want me to believe you’re not gonna hurt me.”



Intruder (written by Prof. Ramjerdi)

“Officer . . . what did you say your name was?”

“Officer Kimchee.”

“Kimchee? Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s so ironic. . . ”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law . . . “

“. . . because it’s all because of the kimchee that this happened. . .”

“Roger, do you want to take this asshole’s statement or should I?”

“I’ll stay with the EMT guys.”

“ . . . ‘KIMCHEE KIMCHHEE KIMCHEE,' she kept screaming at me . . .my wife. I couldn’t take it anymore.
no job no kimchee she was going to leave me take the kids go back to Seoul a Korean with no kimchee is water buffalo with no balls I was desperate I didn’t know the girl was here I just wanted the kimchee the fridge was packed with it I knew it would be the guy’s a kimchee dealer Mama Lee’s Kimchi the hottest in the city I ate 5 jars I was starved I filled my backpack with 55 jars and then I had to take a dump because that’s the way it is with kimchee I tried to open the bathroom door that’s when she came at me the shower curtain rod who would think a little girl could be a samurai I had to defend my self Yes I confess I threw the bottles at her one after the other smashing against the bathroom walls shattering splashing kimchee all over walls mirror tiles skin she screamed her skin sizzling to raw bone bone powder and knobs Mama Lee’s Kimchee it’s the best."