Harsh Reality-Novel Excerpt
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A young girl travels to a jungle island, expecting a paradise vacation. Instead, mosquitoes infect her with a deadly virus strain that causes hallucinations that makes victims unable to tell fantasy from reality.
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It all started the summer of 1991. The day I boarded the plane was the day my reality left me. I recall the events. I recall everything that happened. This is my story.
My name is Kristen Mullen. This is important, because it’s one of the few things I feel I still have left. I’ve lost so much, already – my mind, my sanity, my ability to choose. I’ve also lost the ability to feel. I do feel, so much, just not what I’d choose. My emotions are not mine, not anymore. They are just a rampant concoction of madness, virtually running through me at a never ending pace. It’s exhausting, all the time. That’s another thing I’ve lost – peace of mind. I dream of it fondly, in the quiet hours, here in the back of my mind; the only place I can retreat to in order to find any kind of solace in the insanity that is my life. I’ve also lost my freedom. Not just the option to go outside and walk around, breath in the fresh air, or do what I want, when I’d like to. I’ve lost control over my own functions. My body is driven by the madness inside of me. As if that weren’t prison enough, I’m locked in a glass cage, like an animal at the zoo, locked down in quarantine. Doctors poke and prod me when I’m restrained; drawing blood and administering remedies they hope will work, although nothing has yet. I look and feel like a pincushion prisoner, as if being trapped within my own mind wasn’t bad enough. What’s left of me is trapped within a triple walled prison: my mind, the disease, and this glass cell. I can’t take any more of this. I’m young, still, only fourteen, but I’d end my life if I had the control necessary, just to make the madness stop. All I can do is think back to the beginning, and remember how it all started and wish for an end.
Although unpopular now, I would soon be known by everybody. Not just by the kids in my school, but my name would be attributed to national headlines. Not my idea of becoming popular.
Before this all started, my long hair was dishwater blonde, past my shoulders. My eyes are grey, though they are lined with red and gooey, puffy bags nowadays. I was told my figure was trim; trimmer now due to the lack of nutrition. I wouldn’t consider myself a healthy eater before, but food wasn’t considered a major aspect of my life. If High School didn’t serve lunch I’d probably never eat. Depression will do that to you. Oh, man, how I beg for the days when feeling sorry for myself were my only problems.
I had a desire back then, but desires change, and it’s not what I would wish for today. Now I wish for it all to stop. Back then, a boyfriend; someone who understands me, can laugh with me, be serious with me, to love me. Someone like a friend I knew one crazy summer long ago, when romance was still alive and dreams didn’t last beyond the first bell ring of the first semester. He’s the friend I can’t get out of my mind; even now – because those original dreams of romance have been turned to terror.
It began with last day of my Freshman year. I was counting down the seconds of my final class, and excited to leave on vacation with my dad. This was the first trip with my dad since my parents broke up. She did not like he way he left her, constantly traveling the world every summer instead of spending it with the family. If it was his job, I think she’d understand, but I think it was more like wander-lust; a tradition he’d picked up in his single days and refused to give up. When it was just them, they’d travel together. But then I came along. Mom wanted to stay home with her new baby, a completely understandable thing when you consider the trials of childbirth and the debt of hospital bills. But dad’s travel addiction was on a molecular level and he just left. He’d check in every now and then, sharing stories to try to convince her to come join him, but it had the opposite effect. Even when I got older, the trials of travel had their effects on my family, eventually splitting it in two. The worst part was me; I got dad’s wander-lust. I love to get away from the things that I feel tie me down with shackles of responsibility and live the adventures of life, where I can be anybody but myself and pretend to own the world for three months. When I come back home to the monotony of small town life, with its small town school, and high-and-mighty ideas, I just want to jump on the first plane leaving to anywhere. But dad says that’s no way to get an education. After having me, my mom became a home-body. She prefers to be close to where she feels safe and to her friends. Which is really because she used to travel with dad a lot before I came along. Dad says she loves this simple-minded town more than him. So, I spend all school year with my mom and the summers with my dad. Lot of times I think that it’s my fault they split up. Dad says that’s not true, but he hasn’t given me any real reason to not think so.
I always hope they’ll get back together, but I know that’s a virtual impossibility in today’s world. As an outsider, I could see both sides. Too bad they wouldn’t. They just chose to see the side they wish to see; their own. It tore me up inside to hear them fight, and it hurt even worse when they finally separated. I suppose I should have seen it coming but I didn’t want to believe it. That summer was the worst ever. If it weren’t for Rob XXX I never would have made it through their breakup. Rob was the ‘one crazy summer long ago.’ He gave me love at the time I needed it the most in my life and wasn’t about to get it from anywhere else. Plus, we were in Venice, Italy. He really knew how to treat a girl, especially one with fighting parents and a broken heart. I had wished he could be the souvenir I could bring home. That act was certainly hard to follow but that doctor gave me the right kind of medicine for what I was ailing from at the time.
So, this year’s trip was to be to Tasmania, the island continent just south of Australia. The brochure described it as a jungle island where beasts dwell in harmony with the land. What the brochure didn’t mention was the deadly beasts which harbored great power. And that they were even wise to fear the land, and the invisible entities there: mosquitoes and bugs, where a single bite could mean a terrible, suffering death. I’d learned about malaria from biology class in school and that was enough to keep me from agreeing to go outright. Instantly, my thought went to mom, preferring to stay home where it was safe. Why couldn’t we go somewhere with hotels, poolside service, bathrooms… and boys? After much arguing with my father, he did some homework to set my mind at ease. He found that mosquito control squads had drained the still-water pools and swamps, killing off the diseased insects near the mainland, cities, and beaches. He also found online pictures showing our hotel rooms, complete with poolside service, bathrooms, and yes, boys. This new revelation convinced me go.
The bell finally rang and with a loud cheer from every classmate in every room, I ran out into the halls towards my locker. It only took me ten minutes of fighting the ‘rush hour’ traffic of fleeing students to get home in our pointless, small town. When I got there, my dad was as eager to get under way as I was. Because of the breakup, I’ll take any reason for a bonding experience with any of my parents.
“All set?” he asked, as excited and fidgety as a puppy needing a trip outside.
“Just a second,” I responded, disappointing him, “I have to put away some things.” I flashed him my school backpack so he wouldn’t think I was prolonging the torture of remaining. I ran down to my room, threw my old souvenirs from my past experiences onto my bed, and looked to my dresser. A picture of my dad and I were hugging each other tightly. Wedged in the corner of the picture frame was a small photograph of my mom, as if she were desperately trying to insert herself into the happy memory. I stared at it for a while, feeling remorse and betrayal trying to squeeze its way backward up my throat. I halted its ascension with a protesting swallow and the emotion leaked out through my eyes as tears instead. Caught in a moment of hesitation, I pulled out the small, wallet-sized photo and stared at it, wishing against the facts of reality.
“Ready to go?” My dad seemed to appear from nowhere, popping into the doorway like a phantom. It seemed impossible for him to have any amount of stealth; he’s a big man with a pot belly. He always wears slacks and pin-striped suit. He has dark, curly hair and wears glasses. He owns and manages an outdoor shop that sells camping gear, fishing tackle and bait, and sports clothes. He refuses to go camping during our summer adventures. He says the whole point of going on an adventure is to get away from it all. For him, going camping is like going to work. That was the last straw for mom, because she knew it would save them money. Plus, mom likes to camp. I don’t understand that one myself, because she likes to ‘rough it’ but she won’t travel to another country because she wants to stay close to home where it is safe? Doesn’t make sense to me. I think it’s because she’s familiar with camping or used to do it as a kid. If she goes to another country she’d have to learn a new language, or learn how to use different power outlets, or count money she’s not familiar with. I think ‘safe’ means ‘familiar’ to my mom. To my dad, camping is just another day at work. And he tries to get as far away from that as possible.
So, with the phantom dad standing in the doorway, I tried to hold the photo so he wouldn’t see it. “Yes, I’m ready,” I answered to his question.
He stared at my hands, spying the photo. He walked up to me and put his bear-sized arms around me. The size of a bear, but just as soft, too, my dad is. My throat swallowed again, squeezing more tears out my eyes.
“I miss her, dad.” I cried.
“ I know, sweet,” he spoke with soft assurance, “but we all have to live our own lives. We can’t live it for someone else. Now come on, its summer, and we are going on vacation.”
I searched his face with the windows of my soul for any hope of future reconciliation. All I could see was the smiles associated with the here and now. It would have to do, I supposed. I smiled too, then we returned upstairs where our packed bags waited for us.
Twenty minutes later our bags were loaded into the car and we were off. My dad listened to the radio on the way to the airport, leaving me to my thoughts and ‘whys.’ I’d enjoy the moment when I was in it. My dad was living in the moment we were yet to enjoy already, just by anticipating it. Until then, the reality of the now plagued my mind. I stared out the rolled up window and let the air conditioner tease my hair.
“Isn’t this great?” my dad called over the radio and the whirl of the air conditioner. He must really hate being trapped behind that store counter all day, answering the same pestering questions from blundering and wanna-be campers, while he himself could only imaging the possibilities of a real adventure.
I nodded, then breathed in a breath of air, feeling its freedom. I could only imagine that the prison of a store’s counter was rather comparable to a school desk, with all the same regards, demands, annoyances, and requirements. Suddenly I had a better appreciation for my dad’s excited attitude and it helped to lift my spirits, too. The freedom of summer. I, too, had waited so long for this moment and now it was alive. The prospects of fun, sun, freedom and adventure eventually helped to wash away my emotions of melancholy.
So were my thoughts as we boarded the plane. My dad have an agreement-we alternate window seats on the way to our destination and then we reverse it on the way back. The boarding seems to always take way too long. I suppose I should always just enjoy my last moments on solid ground before the endless stops, jumps, and layovers. Not to mention the ‘mildly entertaining but never appropriately distracting’ in-flight movies, the bags of peanuts that never qualify as an actual meal, or the little kid that stares at you from across the aisle or over his seat. But I guess the teenager in me always wants to be on the move, as if the next experience around the corner will be better than the current one. We always end up getting disappointed in that, and never seem to realize it. Plus, anticipating a fun time always seems to make time go slower. Has something to do with watching the teapot boil, the perception of time, attitude, or something. After what seemed like eons of waiting finally became moments of action. The plane taxied down the runway, lined up into position, approached the runway, and took off. The takeoff was smooth enough, and felt strange as the pressure of the ground drop away tried to deceive my body’s natural addiction to gravity. I stared in awe as giant buildings became specks of sand below us.
When it was nighttime, I sat awake while my dad slept silently besides me. He never did have a problem reaching his REM destination, as though he had his own chauffer to the magical land. It must be nice to not worry about the problems in your life to allow a thing like sleep come and go at ease. I gazed out the window at the clouds below and the stars above, which sparkled like gems embedded in black satin. Given enough time, and patience, we would be in Tasmania. The thought churned in my mind and excited my senses, keeping me aroused. I envisioned the land, the animals, the atmosphere… the boys. My thoughts slipped easily and without prodding to my Rob XXX and wondered if there could be any similar experiences on this out-of-country adventure. My mind pursued such wonderful and tantalizing thoughts. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep with a smile of anticipation on my mind. Maybe that was how my dad found sleep so quickly?
By the time we’d arrived in Tasmania I didn’t care where we were anymore, just that we had stopped traveling. When my poor, underused and tired legs hit the ground I almost turned my ankle from lack of use. In response, my brain seemed to say, “huh?” as if it’d never heard of gravity or walking before. I was exhausted, smelly, and hungry. All I wanted was a shower, a warm meal, and a nap – in that order. I think my dad’s smile arrived ahead of us because it was nowhere to be found. The jet lag was no fun but it was typical with any of our vacations. We both loved to go on them, but we also both responded the same way to them. Knowing my dad, the smile and the ‘who’s ready to party?’ attitude would be waiting for us at our hotel tomorrow.
We trudged across the runway with our carry-on’s, more beaten and weathered than when we’d started. We managed to catch a shuttle bus, which took us to the security gate where we were scanned, questioned, and got our passports stamped. We then rode the carrousel with our tired eyes, looking for our luggage. Then, off to stalk and capture the wild taxi, which we consoled into taking us to our destination lodging. I never even caught the name of the place until the next day where my brain also caught up with me. It must’ve left me early, too, along with dad’s smile. Upon entering the hotel I saw to my body’s needs, in order, as planned. Dad followed the same routine but in his own room. Our ‘goodbye/goodnights’ were done with slurs and mumbles and our dinners consisted of separate room services.
When I woke the next afternoon I was finally able to get a really look at the place I slept almost eleven hours in. Our rooms were fantastic: huge beds, plush carpets, silky drapes, and a rosy interior. The hotel service had placed fresh flowers on the small table by the balcony windows, which opened up to a beachside view of the ocean. The vista shone and sparkled like the surface of a giant, flowing marble. I could even spot dolphins breaking the surface, to come crashing down again. At least, I think they were dolphins. We were in a different place with rules, life, cultures, and experiences my fourteen year old, small-town mind couldn’t fathom, so what did I know? The sight opened me up to the endless possibilities to the reason we came: adventure! Instantly, I was overcome with excitement, like the realization of a kid when they wake up Christmas morning, knowing what was to come. Suddenly, it was understandable why my dad loved to travel around the world every summer, but my heart squelched the thought, reminding me it was no substitute for mom. Still determined to enjoy the journey, I turned back to my room, eager to seek a late breakfast.
I quickly unpacked my things, dressed appropriately for the pool, and ran outside. The vegetation was enormous, climbing to the sky as if the plants chose to drink from the clouds themselves. Plants and ferns taller than myself, and tree leaves extending farther than my body.
After a brief exploration of the hotel’s surroundings I treated myself to a poolside brunch. I then applied an almost unhealthy amount of sunscreen for a several hour dip in the pool. That’s where dad found me and we spent some quality time in the chlorine-rich water environment. Given what I’d previously read and learned about the active and dangerous bugs in a jungle-rich territory I was very grateful for it, although I had to admit it did make me sick later on. My dad and I had dinner later on in the hotel’s all-you-could-eat buffet-styled kitchen. All-you-can-eat: my dad doesn’t know any other way to sit down at a meal while on vacation. It’s almost as if he starves all the other months in the year and he has to make up for the lost time. Well, with mom gone now, it’s probably true anyway. Regardless of his appetite’s lack of control, the meal was divine. I felt like I had sold my soul to safety, sanity, and the hygiene monster upon arriving, but now I was having the time of life.
I had hoped that I might have had the opportunity to meet a special someone during my dip in the pool but I realized later that my dad’s sudden arrival would have put a damper on that. Well, we were scheduled to be here for a few weeks so I didn’t count the option out. I just crossed my emotional fingers and chose to enjoy the first moments.
That’s how my summer went, one day at a time, enjoying a different adventure every day and loving every minute of it. I was forced to buy new memory cards for my small, digital travel camera to keep up with the vacation’ activities. I woke up with new challenges to overcome and I went to bed at night with smiles and imaginative thoughts streaming through my mind like a web movie. But still I couldn’t forget mom. I would’ve traded all the pictures and memories to have her back. I figured since I was wishing, I wished she could be here with me.
I looked at the clock, to find it only five thirty. I shrugged. Dad must've gone somewhere. I went into the kitchen, remembering the snake and bleeding bowl incident and shivered. I sat down to a glass of orange juice and crackers when I realized all the homework I had that had been piling up. I quickly ate my crackers and swallowed the juice, then went downstairs into my room.
I pulled out the first assignment and began to work on it. The first few problems were difficult, but I managed to get by. The time ticked on and I found myself deeply embedded in my studies. I was in the middle of a problem when my paper started to bend. I tried to keep it straight, but it continued to bend and warp. I then noticed I was off balanced, and my chair was changing dimensions, as if it was made of rubber. One leg would go short while the other would stretch.
I sighed. “It's a mirage. It's only a mirage.”
I continued on with my homework as my desk started to bend, and my paper slid off the desk. I pulled back my chair to retrieve the paper. I reached down to grab it when I stumbled backwards to the floor.
Looking up, I found the whole room bending and twisting. I fell down against the wall, with the door on the ceiling. A bouncing, rubbery sound came from the walls as they stretched out longer or shorter.
Then it bent once more into a 'U' shape. Trying to stand up on the wall, I took a flying leap over the hump and fell down my room through the door into the hall, where things had changed for the worst.
The stairs leading upstairs had turned into the gnashing maws of several animals, which lined the halls. Each step was now the bottom half of a different animal's jaw; dogs, rats, boars, snapping turtles, sharks, and even crocodiles.
I stepped back away from the teeth, screaming, when I bumped into something. I turned around to find a huge pit instead of the wall, where a gigantic, armored cockroach-looking creature was scrambling up closer to me, roaring and reaching out for me with it's serrated pincers.
Spinning around, I dashed towards the steps. I jumped up as far as I could, landing on a closed mouth. I then jumped back onto another as the first mouth opened again, searching for a fleshy bite. I then took two more leaps up the stairs despite the spitting, squealing, and chopping animal teeth.
In the kitchen I had no time to stop and catch my breath, for everything was tearing itself apart and falling to the ground in the throes of an earthquake. I stumbled across the floor when a huge beam ripped up through the floor in front of me. I dodged around it when a jolt threw me to the ground. I had to cover my head as rusty kitchen tools then fell from the ceiling, raining over me. I stumbled to my feet, despite the rumblings and then spied the phone. I then realized I needed help.
“Dad!” I shouted, but was greeted only by the rumblings. I then screamed as a light fixture fell from the ceiling, pulling down a power cord which threw sparks in every direction. A moment later, the scene was ablaze with fire as the sparks ignited furniture, counters, and bits of flammable debris. Even though I knew it was a hallucination, my body and mind responded as though it was real. My lungs choked with the thick smoke in the air and my flesh burned with the slightest touch to every scorched surface. Pulling my arm and sleeve up to my face I fought through the quaking, burning wreckage.
Realizing I was on my own, I carefully made my way to the phone, falling down and getting burned several times. I picked it up as the refrigerator then crashed over, threatening to crush my legs and ripping the sparking cords out of the wall. I carefully dialed mom's number, hoping she was home. I got a ringing tone, and I mentally crossed my fingers while my home ripped itself apart around me. The wall holding the phone exploded, sending pieces of wood and plaster in every direction. I screamed and covered my face before an answer came.
“Hello?” It was mom's voice.
“Mom, it's Kristen. Could you please pick me up?” I asked, just as the counter shattered and the tiles cracked. I looked up to see an eerie stream of fire crawling its way across the ceiling, as if it were looking for me. The clock then fell off of the wall and exploded, sending sharp bits of shrapnel seeking out in every direction to bite the soft of my flesh. The table fell over and instantaneously burst into flame without any combustible source.
“What is it? Are you okay? Where's your father?” she asked.
A hump then formed in front of me in the floor, being pushed up from below. It grew rapidly, and the soil fell away to reveal an ancient, moldy, wooden coffin. The coffin disintegrated to dust with the rumblings and fiery sparks. There, inside was a decaying corpse. Its chewed flesh hung loosely from its browning bones, which were clutching to its burial clothes. The skull gave to gravity, falling in a way that seemed like it was looking at me. Suddenly the black of its empty sockets opened up like eye lids to expose real eyes.
“You're next.” it wheezed in a gravely voice before the rotting corpse exploded, throwing festered pieces of decayed flesh all over me.
I screamed once more and mom answered in a panicked voice, “Kristen, what's wrong?”
“Hurry, mom!” I shouted, and looked to the wall, where a skeleton hand broke through the wall to push the button's hang up button. I threw the phone at the hand, which caused the phone's base to shatter from the wall, exposing the head and shoulder of the living dead trying to crawl its way out of the wall. I looked up as the winding ceiling fire located me and dropped towards me, like a jungle snake expecting a successful hunt and easy prey. I stumbled to my feet and across the room to the front door. All the while, debris fell around me or shot up through floor before me. Fire also clutched or jumped at me, while dozens of clawed, skeleton hands erupted from the floorboards for me. I finally managed to reach the front door; my body and clothes covered with random, stinging burns. I pulled on the burning doorknob and the entire door tumbled off of its hinges to slam into me. I cried out from the bruises and cuts, shoved the door off of me, and ran outside.
There, the insanity was replaced with a new kind of weird. What I saw was beyond anything I had experienced so far. The sky was purple, the grass was dark blue, and the trees were red. There were no details, just simple shapes, like a giant, computer-digitized environment. I made my way to the street to wait for mom and observed other shapes. Giant, lime-green lava-lamp-like circles floated lazily above my head, seemingly harmless but I could not assume anything after all I'd witnessed. Yellow straws shot straight up into the sky, bursting from expanding, bulging bulbs that randomly formed on the ground. Neon pink shafts of vertical lines appeared before me in the air like stabbing needles that couldn't find their mark.
I heard a whistling that started out soft, and gradually got louder. I looked up, then threw myself out of the way onto the grass as a huge, icy blue spring hit the ground where I had been standing and vaulted itself back up into the sky where it had come from.
I viewed the navy blue grass I had landed on, to notice that a cloud of olive green dust wafting up. I breathed it in and it choked my lungs and itched my nose, causing me to sneeze. The sound that came out sounded melodious, like a flute. I looked up at the orange road to see a red ball hovering towards me, stamping the ground every twenty feet and leaving a cherry red, round stamp on the ground. I sneezed again, creating an orchestra of horns from the blast. Following behind the red ball was a lavender cone which sucked up the red stamps. I watched them pass by, executing a blast of bells and whistles from my sneezing nose, when an orange box formed up out of the road before me. I cautiously watched to see what it would do when it unwrapped the side closest to me. I peered inside to see mom.
“Mom, I'm glad to see you!” I exclaimed as I jumped in the car, closed the door, and buried my head in my hands with my eyes shut.
“What's this about, Kristen?” she asked, concerned.
“Just take me to your apartment, please.” I begged.
Mom drove on, and I kept my head covered the entire time.
My name is Kristen Mullen. This is important, because it’s one of the few things I feel I still have left. I’ve lost so much, already – my mind, my sanity, my ability to choose. I’ve also lost the ability to feel. I do feel, so much, just not what I’d choose. My emotions are not mine, not anymore. They are just a rampant concoction of madness, virtually running through me at a never ending pace. It’s exhausting, all the time. That’s another thing I’ve lost – peace of mind. I dream of it fondly, in the quiet hours, here in the back of my mind; the only place I can retreat to in order to find any kind of solace in the insanity that is my life. I’ve also lost my freedom. Not just the option to go outside and walk around, breath in the fresh air, or do what I want, when I’d like to. I’ve lost control over my own functions. My body is driven by the madness inside of me. As if that weren’t prison enough, I’m locked in a glass cage, like an animal at the zoo, locked down in quarantine. Doctors poke and prod me when I’m restrained; drawing blood and administering remedies they hope will work, although nothing has yet. I look and feel like a pincushion prisoner, as if being trapped within my own mind wasn’t bad enough. What’s left of me is trapped within a triple walled prison: my mind, the disease, and this glass cell. I can’t take any more of this. I’m young, still, only fourteen, but I’d end my life if I had the control necessary, just to make the madness stop. All I can do is think back to the beginning, and remember how it all started and wish for an end.
Although unpopular now, I would soon be known by everybody. Not just by the kids in my school, but my name would be attributed to national headlines. Not my idea of becoming popular.
Before this all started, my long hair was dishwater blonde, past my shoulders. My eyes are grey, though they are lined with red and gooey, puffy bags nowadays. I was told my figure was trim; trimmer now due to the lack of nutrition. I wouldn’t consider myself a healthy eater before, but food wasn’t considered a major aspect of my life. If High School didn’t serve lunch I’d probably never eat. Depression will do that to you. Oh, man, how I beg for the days when feeling sorry for myself were my only problems.
I had a desire back then, but desires change, and it’s not what I would wish for today. Now I wish for it all to stop. Back then, a boyfriend; someone who understands me, can laugh with me, be serious with me, to love me. Someone like a friend I knew one crazy summer long ago, when romance was still alive and dreams didn’t last beyond the first bell ring of the first semester. He’s the friend I can’t get out of my mind; even now – because those original dreams of romance have been turned to terror.
It began with last day of my Freshman year. I was counting down the seconds of my final class, and excited to leave on vacation with my dad. This was the first trip with my dad since my parents broke up. She did not like he way he left her, constantly traveling the world every summer instead of spending it with the family. If it was his job, I think she’d understand, but I think it was more like wander-lust; a tradition he’d picked up in his single days and refused to give up. When it was just them, they’d travel together. But then I came along. Mom wanted to stay home with her new baby, a completely understandable thing when you consider the trials of childbirth and the debt of hospital bills. But dad’s travel addiction was on a molecular level and he just left. He’d check in every now and then, sharing stories to try to convince her to come join him, but it had the opposite effect. Even when I got older, the trials of travel had their effects on my family, eventually splitting it in two. The worst part was me; I got dad’s wander-lust. I love to get away from the things that I feel tie me down with shackles of responsibility and live the adventures of life, where I can be anybody but myself and pretend to own the world for three months. When I come back home to the monotony of small town life, with its small town school, and high-and-mighty ideas, I just want to jump on the first plane leaving to anywhere. But dad says that’s no way to get an education. After having me, my mom became a home-body. She prefers to be close to where she feels safe and to her friends. Which is really because she used to travel with dad a lot before I came along. Dad says she loves this simple-minded town more than him. So, I spend all school year with my mom and the summers with my dad. Lot of times I think that it’s my fault they split up. Dad says that’s not true, but he hasn’t given me any real reason to not think so.
I always hope they’ll get back together, but I know that’s a virtual impossibility in today’s world. As an outsider, I could see both sides. Too bad they wouldn’t. They just chose to see the side they wish to see; their own. It tore me up inside to hear them fight, and it hurt even worse when they finally separated. I suppose I should have seen it coming but I didn’t want to believe it. That summer was the worst ever. If it weren’t for Rob XXX I never would have made it through their breakup. Rob was the ‘one crazy summer long ago.’ He gave me love at the time I needed it the most in my life and wasn’t about to get it from anywhere else. Plus, we were in Venice, Italy. He really knew how to treat a girl, especially one with fighting parents and a broken heart. I had wished he could be the souvenir I could bring home. That act was certainly hard to follow but that doctor gave me the right kind of medicine for what I was ailing from at the time.
So, this year’s trip was to be to Tasmania, the island continent just south of Australia. The brochure described it as a jungle island where beasts dwell in harmony with the land. What the brochure didn’t mention was the deadly beasts which harbored great power. And that they were even wise to fear the land, and the invisible entities there: mosquitoes and bugs, where a single bite could mean a terrible, suffering death. I’d learned about malaria from biology class in school and that was enough to keep me from agreeing to go outright. Instantly, my thought went to mom, preferring to stay home where it was safe. Why couldn’t we go somewhere with hotels, poolside service, bathrooms… and boys? After much arguing with my father, he did some homework to set my mind at ease. He found that mosquito control squads had drained the still-water pools and swamps, killing off the diseased insects near the mainland, cities, and beaches. He also found online pictures showing our hotel rooms, complete with poolside service, bathrooms, and yes, boys. This new revelation convinced me go.
The bell finally rang and with a loud cheer from every classmate in every room, I ran out into the halls towards my locker. It only took me ten minutes of fighting the ‘rush hour’ traffic of fleeing students to get home in our pointless, small town. When I got there, my dad was as eager to get under way as I was. Because of the breakup, I’ll take any reason for a bonding experience with any of my parents.
“All set?” he asked, as excited and fidgety as a puppy needing a trip outside.
“Just a second,” I responded, disappointing him, “I have to put away some things.” I flashed him my school backpack so he wouldn’t think I was prolonging the torture of remaining. I ran down to my room, threw my old souvenirs from my past experiences onto my bed, and looked to my dresser. A picture of my dad and I were hugging each other tightly. Wedged in the corner of the picture frame was a small photograph of my mom, as if she were desperately trying to insert herself into the happy memory. I stared at it for a while, feeling remorse and betrayal trying to squeeze its way backward up my throat. I halted its ascension with a protesting swallow and the emotion leaked out through my eyes as tears instead. Caught in a moment of hesitation, I pulled out the small, wallet-sized photo and stared at it, wishing against the facts of reality.
“Ready to go?” My dad seemed to appear from nowhere, popping into the doorway like a phantom. It seemed impossible for him to have any amount of stealth; he’s a big man with a pot belly. He always wears slacks and pin-striped suit. He has dark, curly hair and wears glasses. He owns and manages an outdoor shop that sells camping gear, fishing tackle and bait, and sports clothes. He refuses to go camping during our summer adventures. He says the whole point of going on an adventure is to get away from it all. For him, going camping is like going to work. That was the last straw for mom, because she knew it would save them money. Plus, mom likes to camp. I don’t understand that one myself, because she likes to ‘rough it’ but she won’t travel to another country because she wants to stay close to home where it is safe? Doesn’t make sense to me. I think it’s because she’s familiar with camping or used to do it as a kid. If she goes to another country she’d have to learn a new language, or learn how to use different power outlets, or count money she’s not familiar with. I think ‘safe’ means ‘familiar’ to my mom. To my dad, camping is just another day at work. And he tries to get as far away from that as possible.
So, with the phantom dad standing in the doorway, I tried to hold the photo so he wouldn’t see it. “Yes, I’m ready,” I answered to his question.
He stared at my hands, spying the photo. He walked up to me and put his bear-sized arms around me. The size of a bear, but just as soft, too, my dad is. My throat swallowed again, squeezing more tears out my eyes.
“I miss her, dad.” I cried.
“ I know, sweet,” he spoke with soft assurance, “but we all have to live our own lives. We can’t live it for someone else. Now come on, its summer, and we are going on vacation.”
I searched his face with the windows of my soul for any hope of future reconciliation. All I could see was the smiles associated with the here and now. It would have to do, I supposed. I smiled too, then we returned upstairs where our packed bags waited for us.
Twenty minutes later our bags were loaded into the car and we were off. My dad listened to the radio on the way to the airport, leaving me to my thoughts and ‘whys.’ I’d enjoy the moment when I was in it. My dad was living in the moment we were yet to enjoy already, just by anticipating it. Until then, the reality of the now plagued my mind. I stared out the rolled up window and let the air conditioner tease my hair.
“Isn’t this great?” my dad called over the radio and the whirl of the air conditioner. He must really hate being trapped behind that store counter all day, answering the same pestering questions from blundering and wanna-be campers, while he himself could only imaging the possibilities of a real adventure.
I nodded, then breathed in a breath of air, feeling its freedom. I could only imagine that the prison of a store’s counter was rather comparable to a school desk, with all the same regards, demands, annoyances, and requirements. Suddenly I had a better appreciation for my dad’s excited attitude and it helped to lift my spirits, too. The freedom of summer. I, too, had waited so long for this moment and now it was alive. The prospects of fun, sun, freedom and adventure eventually helped to wash away my emotions of melancholy.
So were my thoughts as we boarded the plane. My dad have an agreement-we alternate window seats on the way to our destination and then we reverse it on the way back. The boarding seems to always take way too long. I suppose I should always just enjoy my last moments on solid ground before the endless stops, jumps, and layovers. Not to mention the ‘mildly entertaining but never appropriately distracting’ in-flight movies, the bags of peanuts that never qualify as an actual meal, or the little kid that stares at you from across the aisle or over his seat. But I guess the teenager in me always wants to be on the move, as if the next experience around the corner will be better than the current one. We always end up getting disappointed in that, and never seem to realize it. Plus, anticipating a fun time always seems to make time go slower. Has something to do with watching the teapot boil, the perception of time, attitude, or something. After what seemed like eons of waiting finally became moments of action. The plane taxied down the runway, lined up into position, approached the runway, and took off. The takeoff was smooth enough, and felt strange as the pressure of the ground drop away tried to deceive my body’s natural addiction to gravity. I stared in awe as giant buildings became specks of sand below us.
When it was nighttime, I sat awake while my dad slept silently besides me. He never did have a problem reaching his REM destination, as though he had his own chauffer to the magical land. It must be nice to not worry about the problems in your life to allow a thing like sleep come and go at ease. I gazed out the window at the clouds below and the stars above, which sparkled like gems embedded in black satin. Given enough time, and patience, we would be in Tasmania. The thought churned in my mind and excited my senses, keeping me aroused. I envisioned the land, the animals, the atmosphere… the boys. My thoughts slipped easily and without prodding to my Rob XXX and wondered if there could be any similar experiences on this out-of-country adventure. My mind pursued such wonderful and tantalizing thoughts. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep with a smile of anticipation on my mind. Maybe that was how my dad found sleep so quickly?
By the time we’d arrived in Tasmania I didn’t care where we were anymore, just that we had stopped traveling. When my poor, underused and tired legs hit the ground I almost turned my ankle from lack of use. In response, my brain seemed to say, “huh?” as if it’d never heard of gravity or walking before. I was exhausted, smelly, and hungry. All I wanted was a shower, a warm meal, and a nap – in that order. I think my dad’s smile arrived ahead of us because it was nowhere to be found. The jet lag was no fun but it was typical with any of our vacations. We both loved to go on them, but we also both responded the same way to them. Knowing my dad, the smile and the ‘who’s ready to party?’ attitude would be waiting for us at our hotel tomorrow.
We trudged across the runway with our carry-on’s, more beaten and weathered than when we’d started. We managed to catch a shuttle bus, which took us to the security gate where we were scanned, questioned, and got our passports stamped. We then rode the carrousel with our tired eyes, looking for our luggage. Then, off to stalk and capture the wild taxi, which we consoled into taking us to our destination lodging. I never even caught the name of the place until the next day where my brain also caught up with me. It must’ve left me early, too, along with dad’s smile. Upon entering the hotel I saw to my body’s needs, in order, as planned. Dad followed the same routine but in his own room. Our ‘goodbye/goodnights’ were done with slurs and mumbles and our dinners consisted of separate room services.
When I woke the next afternoon I was finally able to get a really look at the place I slept almost eleven hours in. Our rooms were fantastic: huge beds, plush carpets, silky drapes, and a rosy interior. The hotel service had placed fresh flowers on the small table by the balcony windows, which opened up to a beachside view of the ocean. The vista shone and sparkled like the surface of a giant, flowing marble. I could even spot dolphins breaking the surface, to come crashing down again. At least, I think they were dolphins. We were in a different place with rules, life, cultures, and experiences my fourteen year old, small-town mind couldn’t fathom, so what did I know? The sight opened me up to the endless possibilities to the reason we came: adventure! Instantly, I was overcome with excitement, like the realization of a kid when they wake up Christmas morning, knowing what was to come. Suddenly, it was understandable why my dad loved to travel around the world every summer, but my heart squelched the thought, reminding me it was no substitute for mom. Still determined to enjoy the journey, I turned back to my room, eager to seek a late breakfast.
I quickly unpacked my things, dressed appropriately for the pool, and ran outside. The vegetation was enormous, climbing to the sky as if the plants chose to drink from the clouds themselves. Plants and ferns taller than myself, and tree leaves extending farther than my body.
After a brief exploration of the hotel’s surroundings I treated myself to a poolside brunch. I then applied an almost unhealthy amount of sunscreen for a several hour dip in the pool. That’s where dad found me and we spent some quality time in the chlorine-rich water environment. Given what I’d previously read and learned about the active and dangerous bugs in a jungle-rich territory I was very grateful for it, although I had to admit it did make me sick later on. My dad and I had dinner later on in the hotel’s all-you-could-eat buffet-styled kitchen. All-you-can-eat: my dad doesn’t know any other way to sit down at a meal while on vacation. It’s almost as if he starves all the other months in the year and he has to make up for the lost time. Well, with mom gone now, it’s probably true anyway. Regardless of his appetite’s lack of control, the meal was divine. I felt like I had sold my soul to safety, sanity, and the hygiene monster upon arriving, but now I was having the time of life.
I had hoped that I might have had the opportunity to meet a special someone during my dip in the pool but I realized later that my dad’s sudden arrival would have put a damper on that. Well, we were scheduled to be here for a few weeks so I didn’t count the option out. I just crossed my emotional fingers and chose to enjoy the first moments.
That’s how my summer went, one day at a time, enjoying a different adventure every day and loving every minute of it. I was forced to buy new memory cards for my small, digital travel camera to keep up with the vacation’ activities. I woke up with new challenges to overcome and I went to bed at night with smiles and imaginative thoughts streaming through my mind like a web movie. But still I couldn’t forget mom. I would’ve traded all the pictures and memories to have her back. I figured since I was wishing, I wished she could be here with me.
I looked at the clock, to find it only five thirty. I shrugged. Dad must've gone somewhere. I went into the kitchen, remembering the snake and bleeding bowl incident and shivered. I sat down to a glass of orange juice and crackers when I realized all the homework I had that had been piling up. I quickly ate my crackers and swallowed the juice, then went downstairs into my room.
I pulled out the first assignment and began to work on it. The first few problems were difficult, but I managed to get by. The time ticked on and I found myself deeply embedded in my studies. I was in the middle of a problem when my paper started to bend. I tried to keep it straight, but it continued to bend and warp. I then noticed I was off balanced, and my chair was changing dimensions, as if it was made of rubber. One leg would go short while the other would stretch.
I sighed. “It's a mirage. It's only a mirage.”
I continued on with my homework as my desk started to bend, and my paper slid off the desk. I pulled back my chair to retrieve the paper. I reached down to grab it when I stumbled backwards to the floor.
Looking up, I found the whole room bending and twisting. I fell down against the wall, with the door on the ceiling. A bouncing, rubbery sound came from the walls as they stretched out longer or shorter.
Then it bent once more into a 'U' shape. Trying to stand up on the wall, I took a flying leap over the hump and fell down my room through the door into the hall, where things had changed for the worst.
The stairs leading upstairs had turned into the gnashing maws of several animals, which lined the halls. Each step was now the bottom half of a different animal's jaw; dogs, rats, boars, snapping turtles, sharks, and even crocodiles.
I stepped back away from the teeth, screaming, when I bumped into something. I turned around to find a huge pit instead of the wall, where a gigantic, armored cockroach-looking creature was scrambling up closer to me, roaring and reaching out for me with it's serrated pincers.
Spinning around, I dashed towards the steps. I jumped up as far as I could, landing on a closed mouth. I then jumped back onto another as the first mouth opened again, searching for a fleshy bite. I then took two more leaps up the stairs despite the spitting, squealing, and chopping animal teeth.
In the kitchen I had no time to stop and catch my breath, for everything was tearing itself apart and falling to the ground in the throes of an earthquake. I stumbled across the floor when a huge beam ripped up through the floor in front of me. I dodged around it when a jolt threw me to the ground. I had to cover my head as rusty kitchen tools then fell from the ceiling, raining over me. I stumbled to my feet, despite the rumblings and then spied the phone. I then realized I needed help.
“Dad!” I shouted, but was greeted only by the rumblings. I then screamed as a light fixture fell from the ceiling, pulling down a power cord which threw sparks in every direction. A moment later, the scene was ablaze with fire as the sparks ignited furniture, counters, and bits of flammable debris. Even though I knew it was a hallucination, my body and mind responded as though it was real. My lungs choked with the thick smoke in the air and my flesh burned with the slightest touch to every scorched surface. Pulling my arm and sleeve up to my face I fought through the quaking, burning wreckage.
Realizing I was on my own, I carefully made my way to the phone, falling down and getting burned several times. I picked it up as the refrigerator then crashed over, threatening to crush my legs and ripping the sparking cords out of the wall. I carefully dialed mom's number, hoping she was home. I got a ringing tone, and I mentally crossed my fingers while my home ripped itself apart around me. The wall holding the phone exploded, sending pieces of wood and plaster in every direction. I screamed and covered my face before an answer came.
“Hello?” It was mom's voice.
“Mom, it's Kristen. Could you please pick me up?” I asked, just as the counter shattered and the tiles cracked. I looked up to see an eerie stream of fire crawling its way across the ceiling, as if it were looking for me. The clock then fell off of the wall and exploded, sending sharp bits of shrapnel seeking out in every direction to bite the soft of my flesh. The table fell over and instantaneously burst into flame without any combustible source.
“What is it? Are you okay? Where's your father?” she asked.
A hump then formed in front of me in the floor, being pushed up from below. It grew rapidly, and the soil fell away to reveal an ancient, moldy, wooden coffin. The coffin disintegrated to dust with the rumblings and fiery sparks. There, inside was a decaying corpse. Its chewed flesh hung loosely from its browning bones, which were clutching to its burial clothes. The skull gave to gravity, falling in a way that seemed like it was looking at me. Suddenly the black of its empty sockets opened up like eye lids to expose real eyes.
“You're next.” it wheezed in a gravely voice before the rotting corpse exploded, throwing festered pieces of decayed flesh all over me.
I screamed once more and mom answered in a panicked voice, “Kristen, what's wrong?”
“Hurry, mom!” I shouted, and looked to the wall, where a skeleton hand broke through the wall to push the button's hang up button. I threw the phone at the hand, which caused the phone's base to shatter from the wall, exposing the head and shoulder of the living dead trying to crawl its way out of the wall. I looked up as the winding ceiling fire located me and dropped towards me, like a jungle snake expecting a successful hunt and easy prey. I stumbled to my feet and across the room to the front door. All the while, debris fell around me or shot up through floor before me. Fire also clutched or jumped at me, while dozens of clawed, skeleton hands erupted from the floorboards for me. I finally managed to reach the front door; my body and clothes covered with random, stinging burns. I pulled on the burning doorknob and the entire door tumbled off of its hinges to slam into me. I cried out from the bruises and cuts, shoved the door off of me, and ran outside.
There, the insanity was replaced with a new kind of weird. What I saw was beyond anything I had experienced so far. The sky was purple, the grass was dark blue, and the trees were red. There were no details, just simple shapes, like a giant, computer-digitized environment. I made my way to the street to wait for mom and observed other shapes. Giant, lime-green lava-lamp-like circles floated lazily above my head, seemingly harmless but I could not assume anything after all I'd witnessed. Yellow straws shot straight up into the sky, bursting from expanding, bulging bulbs that randomly formed on the ground. Neon pink shafts of vertical lines appeared before me in the air like stabbing needles that couldn't find their mark.
I heard a whistling that started out soft, and gradually got louder. I looked up, then threw myself out of the way onto the grass as a huge, icy blue spring hit the ground where I had been standing and vaulted itself back up into the sky where it had come from.
I viewed the navy blue grass I had landed on, to notice that a cloud of olive green dust wafting up. I breathed it in and it choked my lungs and itched my nose, causing me to sneeze. The sound that came out sounded melodious, like a flute. I looked up at the orange road to see a red ball hovering towards me, stamping the ground every twenty feet and leaving a cherry red, round stamp on the ground. I sneezed again, creating an orchestra of horns from the blast. Following behind the red ball was a lavender cone which sucked up the red stamps. I watched them pass by, executing a blast of bells and whistles from my sneezing nose, when an orange box formed up out of the road before me. I cautiously watched to see what it would do when it unwrapped the side closest to me. I peered inside to see mom.
“Mom, I'm glad to see you!” I exclaimed as I jumped in the car, closed the door, and buried my head in my hands with my eyes shut.
“What's this about, Kristen?” she asked, concerned.
“Just take me to your apartment, please.” I begged.
Mom drove on, and I kept my head covered the entire time.