by redclay | Aug 26, 2022 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests, fiction, Fiction
Who Am I?
(translated from its original Spanish language submission)
Rivera Dario Alonso Gomez
Second place, Fiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, July 2022
While I was driving home in the middle of peak hour traffic I thought about how absurd my life is. Who am I? Only one more among millions trapped in the routine of daily life from work to home. The problems, the children, the bills to pay, all is monotony, a life without meaning. My wife is no longer the beautiful youth whom I married, she has gained weight and her hair is turning white and to be honest I’m not the same either, my hair has fallen out and left me bald, a huge belly has grown and don’t even mention these eyeglasses without which I don’t see well.
I felt pretty depressed but finally arrived at my home and now I was so tired I just wanted to sleep for many days without anyone bothering me, so I went directly to my bed and I laid down. Suddenly I felt pain in my chest that woke me up, it was very dark and I was sweating.
“Marta, Marta,” I call my wife, but she does not answer. I try to get up but the pain in my chest is sharper, stronger. I call my wife again but again she doesn’t respond. I reach out for her next to me but she isn’t there, I am alone, and now there is no pain but my feet are cold and slowly the cold climbs up my body.
With difficulty I am able to sit, I look in the darkness for the lamp on my night table to turn on the light but it isn’t there. I don’t understand what is happening, I remained sitting, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Finally I rose and began to walk with my hands in front of me, looking for the door, but I walked and walked and couldn’t find the door, nor the wall, I don’t understand what is happening, I must be dreaming, my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and in the distance I saw what looked like the shadow of person who walked with downcast eyes. I approached him and stopped him.
“My friend, excuse me, could you tell me where we are, what is this place?”
“Friend? I don’t remember knowing you, I have no friends.”
“That’s ok, please forgive me, but tell me please, where are we?”
“Well, here.”
“But where is here?”
“Where we are, that’s clear!”
“Do you not know where we are?”
“I know very well where I am, the one who is lost appears to be you.”
And he simply went on his way.
This left me more confused. In the distance I could see many more shadows and I walked toward them. They were all the same, people or better said the shadows of people, walking from one side to the other with downcast eyes and no real direction and no expression at all. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t dare stop anyone, just kept walking in a straight line expecting to run into something but I walked a long way and nothing happened. I could only see darkness and shadows, but what place is this and where am I?
Tired and desperate I fell to my knees. I thought of my wife and my children, where could they be at this moment. Suddenly I saw a light, very pale but it was there. Perhaps there is an exit there. I rose and ran toward the light.
When I was near it was a person like the shadows but this one shone in the darkness and very emotionally I asked him, “My friend, could you tell me where I am, this is such a strange place?”
“Can it be that you still don’t know, Andres?”
“How do you know my name, by chance do we know each other?”
“Of course we know each other.”
“But I don’t remember you, please tell me, where am I?”
“This is your heart, Andres.”
“My heart! You’re joking!”
“No Andres, this is not a joke.”
“And if this is my heart why is it so cold and dark? Could I be dead?”
“No, not yet, you’re not dead.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“Well, Andres, your heart is cold and dark because that is how you have filled it… over the years.”
“And all these shadows — who are they?”
“Your preoccupations, your mistakes, your deceptions and your bitterness.”
“And who are you?”
“I am Love and there is still some light in me because there is still some love in your life, but every day I dim a little and one day I will be another shadow. Before, we had hope, faith, charity, but all those have been diminishing one by one, only I am left, but not for long.”
“Please don’t disappear, do something”
“Only you can do something, remember it is your heart.”
“But what do I do, tell me”
Love, Andres, Love.
And the light went out, and I was back in darkness and desperation.
What do I do? He told me that I should love. I have love in my life and I love my wife, I began to remember the day that I met her. I thought about how I felt when I went down on my knees to ask her to marry me, how emotional and nervous I was. Soon Love began to shine again, though dimly.
I remembered the day my son was born, and I held him in my arms for the first time, and the joy I felt.
Love shone a little more.
“This is working,” I said.
“Yes, Andres, it is working.”
Then I thought about my little daughter and her precious smile. And Love began to shine so brightly that everything was illuminated but at the same time it began to distance itself from me.
“Please don’t leave.”
Suddenly I felt a blow on my chest and an electric current that coursed through my body and a flash that blinded me. I tried to open my eyes but some hands detained me.
“Love, is that you?”
“No, Mr. Andres, I am Doctor Rivera, don’t worry, everything is ok.”
“What happened?”
“You had a heart attack.”
“That explains the pain in my chest.”
“Yes, Mr. Andres. And when you arrived you had a second heart attack. You were clinically dead for five minutes and we have just resuscitated you so please be calm, I am going to make sure you are out of danger and will let you rest.”
Five minutes dead, I thought. For me it was an eternity.
“Doctor… and my family?”
“ They are outside, Mr. Andres, when you get out of Intensive Care we will give you a room and you will be able to see them.”
Finally after many checkups and nurses coming and going they gave me a room and let my family come in. Everyone advanced toward me, crying. I hugged them with all my might and I felt filled with Love.
At that moment I felt God in my life.
Thank you Father for giving me another opportunity. Now I know who I am.
I am Love.
by redclay | Aug 26, 2022 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests, Fiction, fiction
The Last Cryptid
by Trulynd W. Hall
Third place, Fiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, July 2022
“Is he dead?” the boy in a green tracksuit asks.
“Poke him with a stick again.” The girl with fiery red hair says while standing a safe distance away from the possibly dead body. The boy grabs a nearby twig and before he prods the lanky man stuck in the mud.
”Jay wait!” She exclaims. “What if he’s dead?”
“Jesse that’s what we’re trying to find out!” Jay tiredly expressed. Jay turns back to the body about to poke it.
“OK here goes.” He shakes his arms ready for the body’s reaction.
“Joy wait!” Jesse adds again. “What if…”
“Jesse please! Do you want me to poke it or not?” Joy asks while turning to Jesse. Only to find her now pale and pointing behind him. Jay made a guess to the reality behind his back. If it wasn’t a supposedly dead man walking it was way worse.
Jay nervously starts to turn around and witnesses the tall lanky body stand upright.
“He’s alive!” Jesse screams while flailing her arms in the air. The man didn’t look right, his proportions are out of place. Arms too long, legs too short and a particularly slim head. His left arm was twisted in the wrong direction as well.
“Are you OK?” chattered from Jay’s mouth. The man glances around before noticing his broken arm. He reaches for his arm.
“Stop it’s broken!” Jesse shouted in worry. Before her next sympathetic plea could release, the man grabs his arm and readjust it back in place with a loud snap in the process. The kids went and shuddered at the sight and sound.
“Hello?” Jay whimpered while backing away. Finally the man met their frames in his sight. His recently broken arm swings up and the kids flinch at the idea he was going to attack. Instead he reaches the back of his head and scratches the back of his shaggy hair. His baggy eyes meet theirs.
“Who are you brats?” he muttered.
“Brats!” Jesse shouts. “We found you lying in a ditch! Thought you were dead.! Jay let’s go! Never should have helped him!”
“You wanted to poke him, actually wanted ME to poke him,” Jay sarcastically added. Jesse gives him a glare that could cook bacon. The man interrupted the theatrics of the kids.
“It’s not safe here. Go home, he said while diving in his pockets. Jesse was about to add another angry retort but almost as if the man already knew her response, he cuts her off.
“No arguing, there’s something dangerous lurking in these woods.” He replies after pulling an object out of his dirty pants.
“Jay we’re outta here! We don’t need to help some smelly old guy!” Jesse proceeds to stomp away. J fixates on the man’s hand which was now holding a yoyo.
“Jay let’s go!!” She shouts, already a few paces ahead of him. But Jay couldn’t look away, he felt like something amazing would happen in the next few moments.
“Jay Parker Williams!” Jesse voice yells from a distance. He hated when she used his full name. Jay turned around to berate her use of his middle name. That’s when it happened. As his back was turned a thunderous explosion boomed from behind him. The sound was loud enough to lift the kids a few inches in the air. Once again Jay looked at Jesse pointing with an even paler face them before.
“Jay. Don’t move.” Jesse mouthed. “Stay still.” Jay felt a breathy air behind him. His knees started to wobble and teeth chattered. He then heard a low growl right next to his ear. There was something behind him, something big and possibly hungry. A familiar voice yells sharply.
“Run it’s Bigfoot!” The lanky man starts while prepping his yo-yo. Jay finally glances back and sees the bigger than a bear, wilder than an ape creature looming over him. The man reiterates his command.
“Run!” He pleas to Jay.
“Hey! Hey! Over here smelly!” Jessie shouts waving her arms, attempting to look big. Bigfoot’s attention flies to her. Jesse frozen in fear attempts to flee but only manages to stumble to her feet. Jay in a hurry to save Jesse tosses rocks at the beast. The man from afar takes this chance a[nd] hurls the yoyo at Bigfoot. The rope was too long, yards long. It wraps around the beast leg stumbling it.
“Catch the yo-yo!” He shouts to at Jay. “Toss it around Bigfoot you two.” He added. The duo play catch with a yo-yo until Bigfoot was entangled in what seemed to be miles of rope. Bigfoot falls to the ground with a loud smash accompanied.
“Good job team!” The man gave a thumbs up.
“Team? Jesse snorted, waving her finger at his face.
“Is that really Bigfoot?” Jay asked, killing the argument. The man nodded. Jay’s eyes lit up!
“Cryptids are real?” Jay jumped gleefully, while Jesse rolled her eyes. The man makes a small smirk.
“Want to see?”
by redclay | Aug 26, 2022 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests, fiction, Fiction
History of Mammals
by Trulynd W. Hall
First place, Fiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, July 2022
*This is a work of fictional history. Any similarities are a coincidence.
The bell rung and the class was rumbling from chatter between the students. A door embedded in a larger door swung open. The miniscule hairy professor struts across the room toward a small ladder near the chalkboard, an antiquated relic of the past yet the professor liked old things. His ebony claws reached for the chalk. He tapped it five times, a habit of his, a peculiar one at that. But that habit always gathered the class’ attention. They watch as he brings his small koalan body up to the podium.
“Part two ladies and gentlemen.” His voice smoothly lets out. “Can anyone care to recap us quicky on last class’ session?” A large claw raises it’s hand up before the question is concluded. His mane was glorious and fangs magnificent. Yet despite his intrepid out look his voice was frail followed by his large magnifying glasses he wore on his face.
“Ah Yes Charlie, always an eager one, do tell.” The professor opens his hand toward the “king of the jungle” student. Charlie stands proudly with notebook in claw.
“2028, scientist a G.E.M. labs, laboratory of genetics engineering modifications successfully transplant a human brain fragment in an injured dog shot in the head. Next week the dog displayed high levels of intelligence. Even deeper understanding of human speech. Such as the clear ability to discern shapes taught to it. This day was deemed Adam, the first of what we know now as Mammals. A prototype of what we see in our everyday lives. Adam-” the professor raises his hand to stop Charlie’s eager recital.
“And what were Adam’s progeny used for?” He scans the room. “Miss Granger? Do you know?” The sunset fur of Granger stood up as her white tipped tail stiffened. She gives a weary smile with her canines exposed.
“Police dogs Professor Hitch.” The answer came from a pinstriped fellow in the back of the class. His head resting on his arms as if bored of the subject.
“Thank you Zack and Miss Granger.” He tapped on the podium. “Stay focused.” Granger gave a small up sound and lifted her pen.
“Let’s move forward, 2033, who were the next mammals on the line for G.E.M. labs?” Hitch asked opening the question to the class.
“Felines.” Growled a mozzarella rodent in the front. Charlie felt the animosity in the air and covered his face with his notebook.
“Correct Mister Mario.” Hitch replied in a calming manner. “Domestic animals with high IQ became the hot trend of the 2030s. Why have a pet that can’t understand you?” The professor looked down and looked at his class with a solemn expression. “But then what happened that changed history forever?” A voice descended from on high.
“Alder Sterling stole G.E.M.s research.” The girl with the longest neck said. Hitch motioned her to continue. “Gladly Professor!” She replied gleefully. Since her stature was that of the tallest, attention was drawn to her every time she spoke. But she loved it.
“2044 was the emergence of all wild mammals.” She glances around to see if others are looking at her. Indeed they were. “Alongside intelligence, mammals were given more human qualities, inside and out.” She rolls her fingers that were supposed to be hooves. Some of the class react in response by moving their human-like hands and feet.
“Sterling was a disgruntled G.E.M. scientist who wanted to test on more animals instead of chase military or domestic profits. He went to Africa and began testing there with a small team.” She bite back the next sentence.
“That’s a good deal of backstory Miss Roxie,” the professor says with empathy. “Alder Sterling killed many African animals with his tests. A shame that such a revolutionary mind committed such cruel acts.” Hitch jumps down from his podium and grabs his chalk.
“Which leads us to today’s topic.” Hitch says while climbing his ladder and marking the green canvas. “The first Mammalian war, the first of many unfortunately.” Hitch returns to his podium book in hand. “We start on page 87.” He once again scans the room and opens his hand toward a student. “Mister Jones, why don’t you start?”
Jones’ hairless hands, short hair on his head and small body reacts by lifting his textbook.
“Sure thing Professor Hitch.”
by redclay | Aug 26, 2022 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests, non-fiction, Non-fiction
Imperfect Democratic Systems
(translated from its original Spanish language submission)
by Luis Carlos Peniche Garces
Second place, Nonfiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, July 2022
Given its origin in Greek semantics, in which the basis of power was given into the hands of the people, chosen by the people and for the people, we can now move forward and ask if our actual “democracies” are in accordance with these principles of the sociopolitical genesis of the rule of law.
By virtue of the power of our great leaders over time, we find ourselves with a diversity of tendencies to extreme autonomy, which are fed by religious alignments in great part, ready to change the geopolitics of their territories, handing the decisions to the lavish empires, kingdoms, emirates and power to the Roman Church in all its evangelical populations of the entire world.
We only need to go back a little in our history to put on the table the question of whether we are condemned to repeat it for not having learned the lesson at great cost to our species or, on the contrary, whether we are obligated to discard the weight and turn the page with hopes of assimilating the life lessons and not forgetting the errors committed.
If Marx and Engels returned, they wouldn’t think that we would be a reflection of their theories, hurled with red banners of great relevance in the contemporary world… one needs to note that these were the pillars of a system which today represents one of the valid alternatives in half the world.
The democratic socialist systems, with their own peculiarities as in the Popular Republic of China, where its conception originated in the classic Marxist theories and the Leninist models and at the same time instructed by the ancient Soviet Union, gave as an alternative a different path of thinking and autonomy from the democratic states such as USA and Western Europe in its totality. Democratic systems, which, as the years have passed, have become victims of innumerable attacks with internal destabilizing forces which today lack a clean leadership and with collective objectives which rise above individual and party interests.
It would be very interesting to consider objective reasons which might lead us to conclusions about whether we are on the path of our democratic constitutions or, on the contrary, whether we have fallen on the utopian path of the bureaucratic demagogy.
Democracies that are called examples of the world and vectors of free thinking and precursors of free economic growth are seen today in the dilemma of social chaos and inequality of its people engendered in an identity crisis of nuclear family and total loss of the fundamental essence of the human being treated with dignity and equal participation in the society which supports him. We clearly see the ever growing breach between the 1% of the rich and the 99% of the remaining citizens who struggle for survival in a macabre swarm of commercial monopolies and economic groups which exterminate without mercy the longing for common prosperity.
The kidnapping of the parties and their self interests over the common good which is sheltered in a democratic constitution is every day more alienated and distant from its protective principles and brings us to a reality which we cannot hide behind the mask of “corruption.”
The consequences we have seen to belligerent acts which reveal to us substantial political actors in our democratic charters are not clear evidence of our manifestation in the legitimate constitutional right to vote. Today we find ourselves on a totally lost course in a globally enmeshed world of extreme political polarizations, forgetting the fundamental essence which is the welfare of the people.
The constant displacement of marginal communities with basic coverage and minimal conditions for survival lead us to anthropological and sociocultural dystopias which have no other solution than the concentration and balance of opportunities. Opportunities which only have a handle in the enrichment of the people in their principal source of growth which without doubt some are those “already in the know.” The lag in our communities in the training of its members from the basic marrow which is the formation of a nuclear family in circumstances of minimal human dignity and access to benefits of a participatory and resilient democracy.
The actual development of our democracies reflects a future which, if we don’t act in time and with tolerance, in addition to the proper containment of counting agencies, will surely be a disaster to a system of participatory democracy which will surely lead to chaos.
Recognized economic indicators such as the World Bank and the United Nations in their financial divisions show us how the geopolitical and economic panorama has given an extreme directional turn to systems such as the Democratic Socialists in China, which are positioned as primary world economic strength and to Russia as pioneer in the Advanced Nuclear Armament.
Could it be that the Chinese socialist democracy is showing us better results? Or could it be that Democracy is not a system of imperfections but an Imperfect System?
by redclay | Aug 26, 2022 | Creative Writing, Detention Center Writing Contests, non-fiction, Non-fiction
Concrete
by Trulynd W. Hall
First place, Nonfiction, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, July 2022
Imagine, two slabs of concrete around three inches thick, so six total when combined. The task is to break both of these with your bare hand, the only buffer being a t-shirt or towel. This is the 2nd degree black belt test final obstacle.
Getting a black belt is a momentous moment that less than 30% of students at a studio reach. It’s a difficult mountain to climb but also just the beginning of a martial arts journey. Many stop at first degree but there’s over ten degrees to black belt. Each degree taking more time than the last, for reference it takes around one and a half to two years to normally obtain a black belt.
It was time for me to take my second degree test. I was told I’m to break two slabs of concrete. This worried me more than the over seven hundred push-ups and sit-ups or the multi man sparring. If I hadn’t seen my Master break 10 concrete blocks consecutively, I would’ve never taken the test.
To prepare I take one of the slabs home. Every day and every night I see it. I woke up and went to sleep with it as my last seen item. This continued for four months. Any longer and I might’ve considered it a relationship.
After two hours of physical torture, it’s time to break the concrete. Many might believe that if you weight were more or have bigger muscles then it’s a cake walk, they’d be wrong. I’m 5’5” and around 155 lbs at the time of my test. Breaking the concrete is about technique. Which is a result of strict discipline, to maintain your training.
I stand over the blocks. Everyone is shouting and cheering for me to break it. I hear none of it at the time. The world around me whites out and it’s nothing but me and my task. My focus at its all time high. My Master watches dubiously as I let out a scream. Jump. Swing! The sound of stones smashing together as they hit the floor echo. I give a thumbs up and and have a seat. My only thought.
“First try baby!”
by redclay | Aug 11, 2022 | Poetry
August 11, 2022: “Nobody but a nobody can make me feel like a nobody.” Isn’t that the truth? That line nearly hit me in the face when I read that powerful truth from Ms. Shacklette! Another day of raw truth during our spoken word class at Friends of Guest House! As usual, C. Thomas brought out the best in those amazing residents. That’s a keeper and one that I’ll carry around for while.
by redclay | Aug 7, 2022 | Visual Arts
July 27, 2022 – “It honestly feels like Christmas when someone creates something new and I get to see it. I love this group!” And that super-positive statement didn’t even come from our Friends of Guest House clients who created their “Guiding Word” canvases – it came from our art teacher Alison McHugh!
“They’re creating something never before seen in the history of the Universe. That’s powerful and I get to witness it,” Alison continued. “[It’s] awesome to be a small part of the journey for these women. I’m humbled and grateful….I definitely get more than I give when I work with this group. They filled me right to overflowing!!” Alison continued on a Facebook post.
Can we just tell you how happy it makes US to know our art team loves what they do so much? And what about our clients? Can you just feel the joy and power? What word guides YOU?
by redclay | Aug 7, 2022 | Poetry
If “Take me as I am” was the first line of a poem and your challenge was to complete it, what would you say? Alli and Fran and our other Friends of Guest House clients left it all on the court! As always, they were honest and vulnerable and completely fearless in sharing what was on their souls. And they began reading their poems aloud to the rest of the class, unprompted by our Heard spoken word artist
C. Thomas. “You WILL NOT tell me poetry doesn’t help to find your voice,” C. wrote on Facebook. So right you are, C.!
“Everything said during the class left a huge impact on my heart. I heard so many things today that we said so perfectly. I want this class more,” wrote one of our students in a class evaluation.
Yes, we promise more. Many more.
by redclay | Jul 21, 2022 | Visual Arts
July 20 – 2022: Another win for our artist Alison McHugh today – scrapbooking with the residents of Friends of Guest House! Alison is a scrapbooking and paper craft fiend, and she was determined that our Friends of Guest House friends were as well! And success! As you can see from these happy faces (even the masked ones), everyone had a fabulous time. “SO MUCH FUN” Alison told me later. See what bringing creativity, self expression, and joy to people does? Does it get better? We don’t think so!
by redclay | Jul 14, 2022 | Visual Arts
July 13, 2022 – Our artist Alison McHugh’s “I Am” boxes were such a hit at Casa Chirilagua that she brought it to Friends of Guest House yesterday. So many things to love about this paper craft, especially the very different ways the women express their secret selves – only they can see what’s inside the box unless they choose to share it (and we’re so glad they did)!
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