Sleeping Fright

Today was Friday, and it feels great. The week passed by so quickly that I noticed nothing too productive about myself was done. I should have made a list of the things I want to accomplish next week. I know I need to work harder on myself. Too many people are giving me motivation, and I am doing nothing until now.

I started working on a strategy to get my work done, and that is an old norm for me. I made a checklist. Grabbing my notebook, I skipped a few pages and then scribbled quickly on what needed to be done.

The things on that list would be: completing all artwork (teacher's book),

start drawing again (new sketchbook),

work on holding paintbrushes until my hand stops shaking (buy new paintbrushes),

start on a piece that I want to complete before the month finishes (already started),

find time for friends and enjoy time with them (Mika and Juno),

work on bettering my mental health (plan a day all for myself and do yoga),

go roots and medicine find with Michael (Saturday),

find a good place outside to paint (find excellent paint).

I have completed the list and probably would have more if I remembered what they were. Resting the closed book on my lap, I looked around and saw no one. Thankfully, the art teacher pressed no further for me to join the practical classes, and he said he would keep my work hidden away until I was ready to come back to the class. Knowing very well what this means, I knew if I failed this class this semester, there would be nothing I can do to fix it. Things must get a hold of quickly or else my good grades are now on the line too. What else is new?

I went home, too happy that my mother gave me a stern look, as I just gave her a quick greeting and dashed upstairs. With slumped shoulders, she thought I might have gotten myself in trouble, and she followed me.

"Tell me you're not in trouble, are you?" Mother had an expression with both her eyebrows knotted.

"Of course not, Mother! Why would you think that?" I said, suddenly alert as she came closer to my face.

"You came into the house out of breath, and running up the stairs. What was I to think?" She said, flailing her hands in the air, clearly frustrated.

"You think that your daughter really has to use the bathroom, or she has a lot of work to do?" I said, sitting up straighter, letting her know that I was being serious too.

"With you, there is not a peaceful afternoon. You are always up to something. Now, are you going to tell me?" Now, with her hands planted at her waist, I felt as though this was a déjà vu.

All the while, she was pacing and then resting both hands on her hips, an action she would do when she scolds me. Right now, she looks as though she's teasing me. Her face did not match her voice.

"Mom, I am trying to finish my homework and get some rest. Right after homework, I will take a bath, and come help with dinner." You have to give me credit for sounding so calm when clearly Mother was becoming hostile.

"Oh no, you don't have to. Your father is making dinner. He told me just this afternoon he will be home soon. He wanted to treat his girls, he said. Isn't that odd?" In such a small moment, she lightened up. I made a mental note to bring helping around the house more into our conversations at times.

"Mom, you're shy and so is he. The least you can do is tolerate my blatant truth and my urge for you to at least hold hands with one another in public, or even embrace. When do you have time for that, anyway?" I said, moving closer to the edge of the bed. My feet now dangling off the side.

"I will have you know, your father and I are happy, miss sassy. Of course, we hold hands and embrace, but those things are not for the public to see." As a woman who sees them so painfully shy with one another, I hardly think they are different indoors, too.

"You are nothing but a tease, Mother. I am sorry I scared you. I was just too hurried and should not be running in the house." I said, acting like a little child in front of her, giving her my little eyes and a cute cheek pinch.

"Why you sassy!" she said, running up to me to smack me, but I jumped on the bed to avoid the slap of her slippers on my arm.

I laughed as I ran around in the room, meeting the door in time, but getting a little slap on my elbow as I dashed away just in time.

She stormed behind me, all the while laughing, and it was until she yelled, "Hold her for me!" that I knew she caught me right into Dad's hold.

"Girls, what's going on? What's with all the racket?" Said Dad, clearly concerned. He looked wide-eyed, and it seemed we scared him out of his quiet time.

"Your daughter thinks she is smart, and she could sass me. I am teaching her a lesson!" Storming at me, my father kept protecting me. She moved all corners to catch me until she gave up. Her face did not sport a good look. I laughed.

Dad approached her and held her hand, making her face red. And I don't think it was from anger now.

"Dear, put down the slippers. She is getting older. How long will you chase her until you get her?"

My mother hummed, and she turned away only to be back swiftly, and in my hand, she planted one tiny tap on it. I started whining and Dad turned to ease the tension. It got so loud he designated both of us to our own parts of the house, me to my room, and my mother to do her sewing and knitting if possible.

I could hear the pots and pans clanking as a sign to tell that Dad was already getting himself prepared to boil and fry what he wanted to eat. Most times Dad would find the most unused ingredients and make something so delicious with noodles, it would be a mystery what he does to make it come together like that. At the end of the night, I am hoping for a sumptuous dinner and a happy stomach.

At some point, I found myself standing at the window, looking out mostly at nothing, but sometimes my eyes would linger on our neighbor and his sons. They were in their living room having dinner, and they were all laughing at something, the oldest son telling them a story, I think. I smiled, and it probably got too tense that the smallest son of the family glanced over at the same window, noticing me.

It was then that I saw the shadow beside him. The shadow kept twirling like a whirlwind, making dark smoke envelop them, but none of them seem to mind. It was the same monster from the dream. Panicked, I moved away from the window and landed on the bed, stumbling a bit, realizing that my dreams were true. I saw something on that bus today, and it is affecting my mental health in wicked ways.

Suddenly, I saw a black mist forming at the bottom of my door frame. It was squeezing its way into the room. Backing away slowly on my bed, I huddled once more with my knees between my head, praying to who delivered us from evil to stop what was happening to me. As I closed my eyes and my breath evened out, a chilly hand touched my knees.