Under the Absent Sun

Formulating lines the only way she knew how, she created pictures hoping someone could understand. Violently her pen slashed against the page. Even the clock on the wall could see the pain in her eyes, which have been said, never smile. Her room splashed in memorabilia of her past years, pictures of her smiling and waving so proud and happy. 'What a joke.' She thought. If the world were white, like the walls of her room, like the world her mother lived in; maybe everything would be clearer. The distorted- ness of her world has made her puke. It seemed no one had eyes but her; no one could really see that shiny desired apple in the basket rotting beneath its gleaming red surface.

Footsteps could be heard, but she chose not to hear. The door to her room abruptly opened. It's happening again.

An elephant of a woman traced in her own insecurities framed the doorway.

"I just don't understand you anymore! You used to be happy and have so many friends! What happened to you?" Her mother pounced at every opportunity to hoist her ego upon her daughter. This was no different.

The girl caught herself peering under her bed, to the cardboard sanctuary that contained the power her whole body yearned for. The guilt of this weighed upon her. She continued drawing until the woman left. Then she bled.


This feels great

I've never felt this good

Draped in secret - the answer

Is wrong


"Why don't you tell me anything anymore?" Demanded a voice coming from the other side of the Door. A beam of burning yellow light pierced the girl's face.

"I. What?" She could not make out who it was. All she could see was yellow.

"You never tell me anything and you're always rushing off. Tell me what's wrong!" The voice stepped into the shadows and the girl recognized her as her oldest friend. Her blond hair still beamed yellow like before.

"I don't know what to tell you." The friend waited. It may have been for five minutes or five years. Three, two, and one, the old friend left, taking all specks of yellow with her.


Dripping in fear yet clutching onto whatever hope she had, the girl spoke.
"Mother, Father, Lately I've been feeling extremely depressed. I've felt."

"I should start dinner." Her mom spoke as she arose and exited.

".I've felt really awful and I don't know how to handle it." She continued to her Father. Her voice seemed foreign and her words, unreal for she had never spoken them before and never could again. Her father stared straight ahead. His disappointed eyes, black as olives, lacked any sign of a future sparkle. Without saying a word he followed his wife's path out of the room and out of the girls life. The tear filled eyes of the child lay motionless. She continued talking to the empty chairs until the sun set. Then she lost all hope.


I've come for help,
I lack strength in myself

They're taking over
Tell me what to do

When right is the time

Exposing secrets I'll find

Letting it out
Makes me pure again

You seem to know
How the world unfolds

Take them away
Before I disappoint

Endlessness makes me sure

I'll vanish without a cure

Take my broken soul

Fix it.


"Hi, What's up?" asked a friend of the girl. His black hair, a few inches long lay messy while his blue eyes judged her. His past mistakes show on him like the pimples dot his face. The wind blew the smell of spring into the cold air. Of course it was only an illusion, but it gave the girl a feeling of life on its way.

"I'm not doing so well. If I tell you something will you promise you won't tell anyone." His eyes focused on her but she couldn't maintain that response. She lost herself watching a small brown dog digging in the next yard. He'd gotten through the many layers of snow but he was having difficulty digging though the solid ground. Oddly enough the stupid dog didn't give up. He kept digging and digging.

"Hello? Are you listening to me?" Asked the boy, somewhat concerned as he shook her shoulder.
"Sorry. What?" She fell back into his eyes.
"I promise I won't tell anyone. You can trust me." The girl may have been in desperate need to tell someone or he she could have actually thought he was a good friend to her; but I bet if you asked her now, she'd tell you it was his eyes that tore it out of her.

"I'm going through a hard time and."


"I've cut myself. When I get really upset. I know its wrong but it makes me feel better. You can't tell anyone okay?" She searched for his eyes to answer, but again found herself looking toward the dog.

"Alright." He finally answered just well enough for her not to think of it again.


"Your friend called me," the elephant woman spoke. She Appeared in the girl's doorway like before but this time reflecting an unsure-ness in her voice. The woman paused; searching for the logical explanation that obviously didn't exist.

The girl's wrists itched like never before. She scratched and grated them, but received no relief for her fingernails lacked the smooth sharpness she needed. Her mother, obviously contemplating what to say next, didn't notice the girl's odd behavior. Breathing heavily, the girl closed her eyes and left her mother's world. At last she felt the calm and relaxed feeling normal people occasionally feel. She felt color. But this fantasy was short-lived by the elephant's roar.

"How could you do this to me? I can't believe we have to go through this!" Her mother didn't wait for an answer. She left the girl more alone than ever. Her exposed scars violently pulsated at the thought of her mother's unforgiving words. The girl sat spat-less. But she found comfort in not thinking, not knowing, not living. A permanent solution seemed the only solution when the walls left her no color. How could she blaze such a distinguished flame against blankness? She looked toward the box underneath the bed containing the blade - which was the answer. Reaching for it she at last felt power, a passageway to her forgiving utopia. A river of adrenaline, a bust of hope trickled down her arm and splattered on her floor, stained her carpet, dripped onto the trim of her bed, and blotted the door, leaving only a little left in her veins. It was only red, only blood but at least it wasn't as empty and texture-less as the gleaming, ever present, white.

She took her own life because she forgot its beauty. She only allowed herself to see what most feared. The sun didn't shine in her world. When all you see are broken people and blurry answers under the absent sun. You forget.