Fayray

On the Should of a Stranger The sound of my shovel breaking the ground is the only noise that reaches my ears. The warm tears running down my cheeks, the only thing I feel. I slow down my breathing to match the rhythm of the steady chink of my shovel as it enters the dirt, almost reaching a hypnotic state. Anything to keep my mind off what is happening. Chink. An image of me on my knees beside the road flashes before my eyes, and with it comes a searing pain. My shovel misses its mark and I’m jerked out of my stupor. Looking over my shoulder, I see the large cooler sitting under the shade of a small tree, the image almost making me throw up. I try to return my focus to the shovel, struggling to keep the images at bay. Chink. It doesn’t work. Instead of driving away the cruel visions of earlier that morning, the sound of my shovel only seems to beckon them. Chink, chink. I see my mother as if she’s right in front of me. Her eyes are red with crying. Chink, chink, chink. I see myself frantically looking through our closets for a blanket. I drop my shovel and lie on the ground beside the small hole I’ve begun to dig as the images from earlier that morning flood my mind. I remember the stranger on our front porch. I remember the way he introduced himself, polite yet sad. “Ma’am,” he said, addressing my mom. “You mind if I talk with you outside for a moment?” He gestured to our driveway behind him. As she followed him outside, she called back to us that’d…

Where does my identity lie? My identity lies shaped within the continuous chorus and dazzling beats of music, where time seems to fly by and the listener is in a trace of beauty, elegance, rage, fun, happiness, etc. Everything I click and every thumbs up or down I make shapes me. As if I were a block of stone and the song are each a chisel and a hammer chipping away at me till they get their final product. From the time I was born music has been in my life but I have been blind to the way it has…

Open my eyes, I don’t remember how many times I open my eyes, this time my soul seems get into the body of a black adult, who is around twenty six years old. This is beautiful Sunday, and I am walking to the café after work. While I walks through the corner, accidently knocks down a female. Follow my eyesight, I see a pretty girl, which really makes the heart is beating strongly. I immediately help her up. As the apology, I invite her to have dinner with me, and we have a nice dinner together,…

Trauma vs Valuable Life Experience I remember a time when I had to listen to my mom beg for my life and her own. It started one day in the early afternoon around 1 o’clock. My bedroom frigid and relaxing from the air conditioning, as I laid there listening to the movie, “Mac and Devin go to High school.” All while texting my friend Kayla about what time I was going to go over to her house that weekend. “This might be the start of a really great week, it’s going so well and I can’t wait to see…

Radiant As I sit here writing this, I have not typed a word without grief filled tears flooding from my eyes. Heartbroken, depressed, companionless, in the early years of my adolescent life, I had no ally, no comrade, no one. I was alone. As I moved into my house in the beautiful, sunny, Southern California I knew my lonesomeness would be abolished, I could feel it in my humble bones. The grass, the brightest green, the air, crisp and the warm sun touching my skin, soothing. As a young child…

It was then I felt my true power surge through me. I should back up a little in time and tell you how I got to this point. It all started right before I woke up. I met someone who changed my life. The darkness felt dreadful like a thousand deaths. Almost the same as a never ending cave. I couldn’t move or talk. I felt suffocated. My breathing was heavy and I could feel tears forming. Suddenly there was a dim light as it got closer, it got brighter until it was close enough to realize it was a…

Family is the most important influence in a child’s life. From the moment you are born you depend on your family for everything. Protection. Provision. Love. Your very first relationships are with your parents, your first loves are your parents. When I was around three years old, my dad left. At the time my little brain didn’t understand what I did to make him not want me anymore or why he didn’t love my mom anymore. What could a daughter do but love her father so much he wanted to abandon her.…

I could feel the cold, crisp air seeping through my jersey as I watched our struggling defense. Who were jaded and bittered, letting up more than 28 points this game. As our opponent’s defense let up only 24 points. I could feel the tension in the crowd, and in our own teammates. “Touchdown Gators!” the Announcer yelled through the monumental microphones. The crowd roaring with anger at the helpless mustang defense, who were walking to the bench with their heads down. If only we had a better…

Being in the library made me feel irate, hate, repugnance. Being in the library made me be reminded of him. There is only one way to get rid of him, erase his entire existence. His existence continued to be in the house and the only way to get purge of him is to burn that presence. A few weeks after Edward, Mr. Sawyer’s, death I went into his beloved library. His library was another extension to his oh so magnificent country of England. Looking around, everything still had his presence. Walking…

I think it’s weird how water looks almost black under frozen lakes. When it’s warm the water seems so friendly and inviting, but during the winter it’s almost ominous. “I just don’t feel the same way about you anymore, Aleksei” that’s definitely the worst thing anyone has ever said to me. It feels like it didn’t happen, but at the same time it feels like it’s the only thing that’s happened all week. Everything else is just jaded by those words. This was my first day of my junior year in college,…