Enter Guerney

I sat silently on the street corner, hoping that could be just a simple afternoon. My glasses would be ready for me in a few days, but I didn’t really care. I didn’t want to be discontent with my vision until I could change it. There was noise down the street, I could see the big faded red crane standing against the blue sky. They were trying to build something decent over there, a restaurant maybe. It wouldn’t stay decent for long though. All the people from the ghetto would raid it. Soon, it would become like eberything else in theis filthy place. There weren’t many clouds out today. Clouds make the sky better, at least I think. Big beautiful puffy white clouds brighten up every morning. I was just thinking about all different sorts of things when this little black child came running towards me. His dirty Cubs baseball cap was to big for him and hung off to the side of head. It seemed the rest of his clothes were to big for him too, but so did all the black men around here. The dumb baggy pants hanging off their butts looks so hideous.

Anywa, this little eight year old came running towards me, hiking his pants up every second. His little brown eyes stared at me intently.

“Scuse me…scuse me!” he kept yelling at me. What did he think I was, a telephone receptor? COuldn’t he leave me alone? Couldn’t the whole world? I didn’t hwant another spout like yesterday’s

“What do you want?”

“I wanna talk to ya”

“Why? I don’t even know you.”

“Cause I hear my bruthah Izzy saved you yesterday.” He smiled and plopped down next to me. Obviously, some story about me and Iz had been mixed up somewhere.

“What do you mean he saved me? He didn’t do much thank you. He just walked into my house and completely embarrassed me, that’s all. He in no way saved me, especially considering there was nothing to save me from”

“Welll…that’s not what I heard.” I didn’t appreciate his know it all tone…Who does he think he is to be able to tell me what I saw and what he didn’t?

“Who did you hear it from, Millie Motormouth?”

“Nah, I don’t know any Millie’s. Nobody’s named Millie no more.”

“ It was a joke pal.” I looked at him a second and then rolled my eyes. “Wait one alliterated minute…I didn’t know Izzy had a brother…who are you?”

“I’m Guerney. Kinda like worthy cept with a guh at the beginning stead of a dubyou, and an ‘n’ stead of the ‘th.’

“Right…” I sighed. Like I needed more little kids breathing down my neck. Baby sitting was hard enough. None of them were as cute and little as Guerney though, I must admit.

“You bored?” he declared rather loudly, out of the blue.

“Um…sure. That is if you eliminate this most thrilling conversation we’re having…”
“Well, ya wanna go down to the creek? Most people say it’s real pretty down there.” I was about to reject his offer, when I realized I had no idea what he was talking about.

“What creek? I didn’t know there was a creek around here…”

“Yeyah. It’s down by the playground. Here I’ll show it to…”

“No, no. It’s alright. I’m not really in the mood.”

“Your not in the mood for the creek? Izzy says you love those types of things. I’m just tryin’ to be nice.”

“How in the world would Iz know what I like. I’ve spoken to him twice in my life.” I asked Guerney a little harshly, and he responded by shrinking back a little.

“I dunno, I guess he just gigured it out.”

And with that, he jumped up and ran off.

The Demonic Doctor and his Hord of Witches (or the pediatricians office, whichever you prefer)

I cannot believe…my own father….would make me go through what I went through today. I’ve not had a check-up for almost 3 years, that doesn’t make me immune to the doctor’s looming presence, his cold glare, his demonic…black stethoscope, his tight pursed lips, everything about him. His mindset wasn’t to make me feel comfortable. His ultimate goal was set fast: make me squirm. Let's just leave it right here and now...I simply hate him. His shifty eyes settled on his papers clustered in his hands.
“She’s malnourished. She should weigh at least ten more pounds.” He declared gruffly, gaze never leaving the page. “And she needs glasses. She didn’t do very well on the eye test. She has good hearing though.”
Well, at least I had that…I try to preserve my hearing, not blaring music in my ears with those ugly white headphones everyone seems to be wearing these days, and what does he mean by malnourished? I’m not scrawny by any means! My limbs are of perfect proportion to my age and height. I eat plenty of food all the time! In fact Father says I eat far to much! What does it mean if I don’t weigh 200 pounds? That doctor must feel insecure, knowing that he’s pushing 300, and he wants everyone else to be as fat as him. Sometimes people are the most selfish creatures alive. Honestly.
They brought me into this gigantic room that was awfully dark. The doctor only grunted for me to sit down. His hulking shoulders were shrugged forward, and his tree-trunk-like arms encircled around some black contraption, with a long red laser flashing in my face. He looked like a yeti, a big white one with that hideous overcoat.
“Let’s get this terrible ‘meeting’ over as soon as possible please” I hissed. He made me look at a bunch of things, I didn’t really remember, nor did I care. I just wanted it to end. He just kept bloody staring at me. So much was bubbling up inside of me, I couldn't imagine taking anymore.
When we *finally* got the prescription for the glasses, I picked the most eccentric pair I could. I didn’t want to look like a typical nerdy-glasses wearer. Life isn’t fun without being different. So I got myself a pair that look like Leanne Marshall's, from Project Runway season 5. Yes, I do watch this marvelous show when I can.

Last night was much more pleasant then yesterday afternoon. We finally got home, the pediatrician’s office is ridiculously far away. But our lonely house greeted us with open arms as I ran out of the car, longing to forget the whole experience. I almost collapsed on the bathroom counter, splashing cold water on my face just to make sure the whole thing wasn’t just a nightmare. But then, of course, when you are in the most awkward position, the oddest things happen. I was frightened out of my wits when I was dunking my face into the faucet. Father and one of the boys from next door had waltzed up behind me without me noticing. Probably because the noise of the water running drowned out their footsteps.
“Hey, Katrina ain’t it?” That was Izzy. I certainly don’t think it’s his real name, but he wants everyone to call him that. Probably about a year older then me and a head taller…and black. All the kids in my neighborhood are black. Let’s face it. I live in the ghetto. I almost choked when his voice reached my ears. What in the world were they doing? I was in the bathroom for goodness sakes! Don't they understand I would like just a few minutes by myself to contemplate exactly why I hated everything about that doctor's visit? I pulled my hair back and slowly raised my head from the sink. While trying hastily to dry the water off my face by rubbing it with my hands, I put out a clumsy smile.
“Uhm, yes…I’m Katrina….and this is my….lovely bathroom.”
“Yeah…I see. Um, look I was just outside and saw you runnin in ya know, and ya pops and I was wondrin if you was ok.” His face almost glowed with honesty and concern. I almost laughed. What were they thinking?
“What in the world do you expect?? Do you think I’m ok???? I just came from that witch of a doctors office with his demonic hands touching me and his big fat body parading around me? Do you think I’m ‘ok’??? How could you ask such a question, Father?” I turned towards him and pointed an accusatory finger. But right then I realized how uncalled for and how random that outburst must’ve seemed. Especially to Izzy. His gaze switched from me to Father several times but neither of our faces could make more sense out of the situation. There was a long pause where no one said a thing. Finally, Izzy spoke to break the silence.

"Well as long as you's ok, I'll head back to the house alright? I think we's eatin dinner." He stated a little shakily. And before I could say another word, he bolted out of the front door.
There was something wrong, because Father just kept staring at me. I knew, when he continued to stare at me that he was thinking. And I knew when staring and thinking were combined, there was something wrong. In fact, I knew what he was thinking. He was blaming everything on himself. But what was there to blame on himself? I didn't do anything wrong did I? Except that little eruption...no real harm done? I wish I hadn't done it right? But Father was blaming my badness on his bad parenting, even though he is a marvelous father.
But whenever he blamed things on himself, he goes away in the middle of the night and comes back in the very early morning. He doesn't tell me where he's going, but I know where he goes each time.
What did I do?
Did I do soemthing all that wrong to make him come back every time...with a hangover?

Basketball Dreams Fading

I don’t exactly have anything against school, as many do, but I have the whole world against Track. And Father won’t let me out of it. I also have to do basketball, which we had tryouts for today. All of the girls there were like big hulking masses, each at least a foot taller. They must have been 30 pounds heavier, with pure muscle of course.
I had only completed one lap, and already my chest tightened up and my throat started swelling closed. Everything in me screamed for mercy. “Stop Katrina! Stop! You are killing me!” My legs buckled, and some tall girl will flowing blonde hair tripped on my outstretched foot. She screamed, I choked, eventually a couple of other young ladies stopped. Another girl fell because she ran into the hurdle, not seeing it because she was staring at us. So essentially, there was a pile of people, and a crowd huddled around them, standing in the middle of the track. Mrs. Poleby, the coach, who just happens to have the most absurd name I’ve ever heard, heaved her bulk over and shoved through to get to us, as it seemed we were the center of attention. She just stood there, chewing her wad of blue gum, while my puny self lay under two bodies twice my size. She didn’t even notice my suffering. I wanted to yell at her to get the weight off my back, but my throat was still tight and constricted. She just stared at us. Tears were streaming down my bloated cheeks.
“Get them blasted off of me!” I thought, but couldn’t even squeak. Then the girl with the flowing blonde hair….ever so slowly….started to hoist her self up off me. Mrs. Poleby only stared at me. Her gaze was like a blazing hot laser that ripped through my heart. I sucked in air gratefully as my neck and chest started to relax. I lay sprawled in the dirt…everyone’s eyes wouldn’t let go of me. I shut my own, praying it would all just vanish. In those brief seconds, I traveled somewhere else, to the beach. I imagined the refreshing waves hugging my legs, and the yellow sun hanging peacefully in the sky. Then Mrs. Poleby shouted “Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me, you’ve got three more laps to go little missy.” She said it in the flattest, most unenergetic tone. The only sound was her chomping on that pour battered little chunk of gum. Then the girls finally started running, Mrs. Poleby walked away to the sidelines again, and I just lay their. The blood flowed to my entire body again. I didn’t want to get up.

The results haven’t been posted yet, but I believe it’s safe to say that I failed the team. And I don’t care. Father will be cross, but there’s nothing I could’ve done. I’m not built for sports. My lungs start screaming whenever I do even the slightest of running, jumping or activity. Maybe Father can ask the doctor about it, because I’m having a ‘marvelous’ check-up in two days. My, won’t it be exciting.

My body is dying, just crying inside
I’m weak, just so weary, nowhere to confide
I never thought I was the best of them all
But to fall into last, that is my call

Hello Oh World

I don’t exactly know why I’m here, writing this.


There isn’t much purpose.
But I will write on.

I don’t exactly know why I want to pour out my feelings to the world, but I feel I must. There’s nothing else left. All the feelings and thoughts contained inside this old brain of mine have to come out. It’s impossible to contain such large and adventurous thoughts.
I will tell you immediately, I don’t care about the world knowing my name, however wonderful that sounds, I just want you to listen. Listen carefully my friends. Maybe you will learn a little from my faults and mishaps. The world is a dark place. Many hidden places, with hate packed away are only explored by a few, but those few are alone.
I always thought it beautiful to die, but much more beautiful to live. But there are different ways to live.
Everything in my heart is crying right now, not because something hurts me but because I know of all the people who hurt. But it breaks me even further knowing there’s nothing I can do about it. Father is poor, and whatever money he gets goes to the Streaming Bottles of Beer for Martin Hoff campaign. Martin Hoff…Father has such a beautiful name. I cannot believe he gave me such a wondrous name as Katrina. It flows so…smoothly, gliding almost.
I wish we had more money. Father has tried many things to get rid of the drinking problem, but nothing seems to work. His hopes of abandoning the liquor are very small on the scale of things. His life is hopeless. Whenever he goes upstairs, I fear I might never see him alive again, merely his body with bleeding wrists on the bathroom floor. Everyday is painful like that.
The sky was gorgeous today. The pink, gold and red colors all flung across the sky. The clouds stood puffed and mighty against the sun, like they had to challenge the ball of light. I love the silence of nature, the peace of it all. How many days I’ve wished I could just run away to the large grassy plane behind our house.
But life must go on.

Turn down the road that leads to disaster
Falling keep falling, a little bit faster
The peace of it all, buried in stories of old
Start to wonder if the world’s face has gone cold