A Vignette

Anya

When I’m not sleeping, I’m crying. And when I’m not crying, I’m staring out into space, like a partially dead body. I feel lost, as if part of my life has been forced away. I just came here, to Cleveland from India. Actually, I didn’t come here. I was knowingly kidnapped, by my parents. They tell me I’ll adjust, or, that it was necessary to move, but I tune them out as much as possible. They have no idea how much the move has changed me. I don’t feel like myself anymore, as if I’m no longer Anya. Everyday now, I pray in the Indian fashion, begging the gods to spark a miracle, sending me home.
Here in Cleveland, everything is cold, even the people. But back in India, it was impossible that you hadn’t laughed, at least once with all the people in your community. Here in the Cleveland apartments, I don’t even know who lives next door to me. My parents suggest, that I walk around the community, and try to get familiar with it. Some days I listen, other days, I bite my lower lip, and blink rapidly, forcing back my tears. When I do step outside though, I begin to notice the differences right away. The roads aren’t dusty and crowded. There aren’t dogs and cows roaming free in the street, or friendly marketers, yelling the rates of their fruits, vegetables, or bangles. I miss the sight of the bright clothes, which had hung from stretched rope, or porch banisters. I missed the sound of the people yelling across the street from their house windows, asking their neighbor, if they’d like to drop by for a cup of tea. Mostly, I notice the silence. The silence, which feels colder than the snow, makes my days in Cleveland unbearable. At night, the silence of the streets, the thought of the nights in India, where people would still be outside, singing, talking, the distant honking, the moans of cows, keep me wide awake.
One afternoon in June, I was wandering in a new street, when I noticed what used to be a vacant lot. Now, there were many people crouching beside plants, slowly running their coarse hands against the newly blooming plants, or the green leaves of their healthy flowers. These folks had made a garden of the lot. For one enticing moment, a small smile stole over my face, at the same time a small thought bloomed into my sore mind. I would grow lotus flowers, the national flower of India. The beautiful pink flower would be like a small connection to home, and would serve as an excuse to get to know the community. That night, I asked my mother if she could bring me lotus seeds. My mother, realizing that I was finally getting myself involved in a community act, agreed. The next day, my mother presented me with shallow tub, a water can, clay soil, and two packets of Lotus seeds. I looked at the blue tub puzzled.
“Lotus grows only in water.” My mom informed. As I began to leave towards the garden, my mother hurriedly told me that she would be coming too. I smiled again. I had always known that my mother enjoyed planting flowers. Together, my mother and I approached the Gibb Street Garden, and began, at once, to stab at the packed soil, as to place the tub in the small area. It was hard work, but when I began to insert the small seeds into the terra cotta, I couldn’t help thinking of the blooming flowers. Once we had planted the seeds, I began to look around the garden to see if anyone needed help. I saw an old Korean lady, Sae Young, struggling to dig the packed soil. I went over to help her, and during that time, she began to tell me her story, how, years ago, she had moved from Korea, and felt so alone, to how, recently, her husband died, all the way to the time when a gunman broke into her small shop and knocked her will to be with people right out of her heart. Now, she was herself again, she wanted to be surrounded with many people. She had overcome her obstacles. I met many people that day like Sae Young, many people who had overcome hindrances, and it reminded me of the history of India. How we had fought against the British, and succeeded. And right then, in that moment, found a piece of my home in that garden, and in the gardeners. So all along, I had been at home, and never realized it.


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Daily Poem

Halloween

Halloween is not so great,
And even though the costumes are fake,
I get scared.
The monsters and witches,
Frankenstein with stitches,
Pirates and ghosts,
Those are the ones I hate the most.
Why can’t they be butterflies,
Or cuddly penguins,
Instead of spies,
Why can’t people be something nice,
Instead of something evil,
And as cold as ice.
So I decided to be something,
Different because,
I didn’t want to scare myself,
So I was,
Santa Claus.
Big and red,
Soft and kind,
Had a big heart,
And could read minds,
When I went trick-or-treating,
Feeling really great,
I ate all my candy,
Then got a stomachache.
Halloween is not so great.
OH- OH -OH

Daily Poem

Lace



She loved him so,
She loved him so,
Maybe that’s why,
She didn’t want him to go.
She loved him so,
She loved him so,
He was her son you know.
So when he left,
She gave him her lace,
And took one long gaze,
At his young face,
She hoped,
And prayed,
That he’d return,
Her belief,
Was quite firm.
He had gone,
Oh so far,
Why did he have to,
Go to war?
She prayed all day,
She prayed all night,
That he’d return,
From this perilous fight.
Days went by,

Then months then years,
Not a letter from him,
She had nothing to hear.
Waiting all day,
The poor old mother,
Was faced with the worst to fear.
Then came a letter,
A small packaged letter,
Wrapped with the lace
She had given her son.
Upon reading the note
The mother,
She cried.
For she had found out,
Her son had died.
Had died with the lace,
The lace tied on his arm,
Had died with the lace,
‘Twas his,
Good Luck Charm.
So the mother,
When she died,
Had the lace tied,
As well,
To her arm.

Daily Poem

Chuckle

I know I’m a little boy,
But I have nothing to fear,
So sit around,
Cause you’re about to hear,
A story,
A story,
About me and a bear.
He roared, and growled,
And showed me his teeth,
I made him smell my breath,
Boy! Did that make him flee.
But I’m not done,
Oh no, oh no.
I fought a lion,
You should have heard him roar.
He shook his mane,
And opened his mouth,
So then I screamed,
And the lion,
began to shout!
So now you know how brave I am,
And if you’re ever scared,
Think of me, and then,
Fight that fear,
Like I did the bear,
Or call me over,
I’ll be there.
A snake,
or a cake,
I finish them off,
Every little bit.
Call me for anything,
Even flea,
Just not for ants,
Oh no not me,
Cause if you do,
I’ll wet my pants.

A Diamond in You

Gasping, she turned around the corner. She was going to be late. Again. Heaving a deep breath, she began to jog, every so often raising her wrist to check the time. Two minutes late, three, oh boy, five minutes late! Mr. Werscher was going to be furious! She began to slow down as she reached her destination. Before pulling the red metal doors open, the girl tucked her wild hair behind her ears, and took a quick, refreshing breath. With a slight ‘click’ the doors opened. She heard the loud chatter of students.
“Alaya! Late? Again?” Mr. Werscher bellowed red in the face.
“I’m sorry sir, I missed the bus!” Alaya whimpered in her defense.
“Late for that too.” Mr. Werscher mumbled. Alaya narrowed her eyes and glared at the fat man. “Alright everybody, get to your places, and this time, try to keep your lines memorized, and no giggling, Trisha, no fooling around, Charles, and say your lines on your queue, and on time.” Mr. Werscher added, glancing at Alaya. Alaya responded by crossing her arms, and pretending not to hear him. “Okay. From the top.” Everyone began to scramble to their spots. Alaya went backstage with another half-dozen students. She spotted her friend Myra amongst them.
“Hi Myra.” Alaya waved.
“Alaya!” Myra whispered. Then, in a more serious tone, “You were late again.” Alaya flushed red. Mr. Werscher made everything so public!
“Oh well, what does it matter? Drama club would be flop without your talent!” Myra giggled lightly punching Alaya on her arm. Alaya soaked in the compliments. Indeed it was true; Alaya was quite a talented actress. She could play out any role. So far, she had been a mermaid, a witch, a lion, and a detective. All of these roles were prominent. Her talent was never curtained. Even this time, she was playing Miriam, the main character in this crime-play. Myra on the other hand, was simply in charge of the curtains. She wasn’t much of an actress. They both waited for the narrator to read out the beginning lines, and as soon as she was finished with her part, Alaya pranced onto the stage.
“Cut.” Mr. Werscher snarled. Alaya stood there, burned by this action. This was the first time in her life, that someone, even a teacher, had called ‘Cut’ on her. “Tell me Alaya, and explain it very carefully, where on this script does it say that you have to ‘dance’ onto the stage? Where?” Alaya stood their insulted, and angry.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t even started yet.” She reminded the drama teacher.
“No Alaya, I’m sorry, but you started when you walked into this room. As soon as you enter, all of you, understand, that you are no longer yourself, you are your character. Got it?” Heads nodded. “Go ahead and try again.” He added, nodding in Alaya’s direction. She walked off stage grumbling. “And ACTION!” Mr. Werscher screamed. Alaya walked on to stage very slyly. The script insisted that she act as if she were an extremely wanted criminal committing a burglary.
“The diamond is gone!” Alaya gasped, as she pretended to search for something. “How is it possible? Who is it that has gotten the prize, before I, Miriam Willis?”
“Cut.” Mr. Werscher said in a bored voice. Alaya’s blood boiled like water on the sun. “What’s up with the, ‘before I, Miriam Willis’?”
“It’s called adlibbing.” Alaya drawled, trying hard to contain her anger.
“I know what it’s called, but, guess what? I don’t like it. From the top. Again.” Alaya repeated her part, and spoke with clenched teeth. Eventually, the second scene started, and Alaya wasn’t in it till the end. From behind the curtain, Alaya watched, as the cops, who were acting terribly, got by without a single ‘cut’. In fact, they received a round of applause for their act. It was Alaya’s turn again, and she got three cuts, for one line. Unbelievable. Finally, practice was over.
“Remember, performance is today at eight. And please be on time!” This time, Mr. Werscher didn’t look at Alaya. Good for him, because if he had, he would have gotten daggers.
“The final is tonight?” Alaya gasped. “I completely forgot!”
“Alaya? Do you want a ride with me?” Myra called from across the auditorium.
“No thanks, I’ll walk.”
“It’s fine by me.” Myra shrugged her skinny shoulders, and stepped into her black van. While walking home, Alaya tried to figure out why Mr. Werscher was picking on her so much during class.
I think he hates me… Alaya thought. Yep, I think that’s it. Or rather, he’s jealous of me. I’ll bet he wants to act like me. With that story giving her comfort, Alaya went home to practice for her part.

“Welcome everyone, to the original performance of The Craving Criminal performed by Sibyl Elementary School’s fifth graders. Please turn all cell-phones off, and please don’t talk. Also, please enjoy our performance.” With Mr. Wershcer’s words coming to an end, the lights dimmed, and the play began.
The curtains opened, and the crowd applauded.
The play was a huge success. All the students ran to see their parents and siblings, and as Alaya walked over to her parents, a surge of adults followed.
“Your daughter has a very bright future as an actress.”
“She brought tears to my eyes, that’s how real she made her character.”
“I completely forgot this was a play.”
Alaya’s hands were numb form all the hand-shaking she had done in the past ten minutes. As she turned from the crowd, she saw Mr. Werscher advancing towards her parents.
Oh boy. Alaya worried she had done something wrong on the play. She couldn’t recall. In fact, I followed all the tips he gave me during practice!
“Mr. and Mrs. Harrison!” Mr. Werscher cooed. Alaya narrowed her eyes. Something was wrong. She had never seen him this happy before. “Your daughter was absolutely fabulous.” Alaya’s mouth dropped, and her parents beamed. “I hope you don’t mind my impatience during practice,” Mr. Werscher said turning to Alaya. “It’s just that, when you have one diamond among a truckload of pebbles, you want to polish, and make it shine as much as you can! Don’t you agree?” It was amazing. Finally, Mr. Werscher had acknowledged Alaya’s talent! “Your daughter really is a natural when it comes to acting,” Mr. Werscher smiled patting Alaya on her back. “You should have her go a smite bit more public!” Alaya’s parents turned and grinned at her. Just then, a group of kids came, cheering, talking and laughing, and dragged the drama teacher away.
On her way home, Alaya couldn’t help thinking of what Mr. Werscher had said earlier. It’s just that, when you have one diamond among a truckload of pebbles, you want to polish, and make it shine as much as you can! Wow! I’m a diamond! Alaya thought, I really am a diamond!