Ask Its Name

Dark mists slithered down my arms, clinging to the cold vinyl chair like ink in water. Under my white-knuckle grip, the pale plastic arms dimmed to a murky silver where the shadows seeped beneath my fingers.

My eyes tracked the small space, counting the seven vinyl chairs lined up along the pale wall. Seven. I counted them again, the vinyl cold and stiff under my gaze, over and over until the numbers lost meaning. When did this place ever get eight visitors at once? Just me, trapped in a room where time stood dead still, waiting for the tick of a clock that didn't matter.

This was so not me to be exposed in the open. I liked being unnoticeable. If I did become noticed it'd being with fearful curiosity and averted eyes. My weirdly marked self appeared as an unspeakable appeal I talked seldom, just a traced shadow. The world around left me wanting to blend away . My shadows, attuned to me, my real mists, Shadows which I could call to cover me, hide in its sweet darkness, blocked from the world. The shadows were mine to command to come or go. I raised a hand, watching a light shadow flip itself under the seat of the chair and it smoothly flowed into my left hand.

I was a ghost in the background. A strange being in a blurred, normal world. I preferred the obscurity of being a trace, a shadow. I did it so well. Right now, I had to be seen. At least for the time. Couldn't hide if I wanted to.

“Erin Castilian?” A tall, thin blonde woman Called, as she walked into the waiting room. Her bright red smile was so out of place. It seemed to mock me. The bitter cold of the room went right through the layers of my clothes. I took a deep breath of the sickly-sweet, rancid  aromas and yanked my thoughts hard to pull down the presence of the shadows.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, barely above a whisper. My voice sounded faint, like it took every drop of air to speak. That familiar monster in my chest roared, and I tightened my hands into fists until the dark gray lines along my wrists flushed almost black. I sucked in another deep, calmer breath of the choking air. The anger sat bottled inside, violent and raw.

It wanted to ravage something, anything. I could tear that framed landscape right off the wall and smash it over her head. Watch her bleached hair spill out of the painted yellow sun, her smile smearing like a dark sunset across the paper. It’d be a picture, alright. I exhaled, my bones vibrating, nerves humming loud and hot. Slowly, I counted to three and shoved the rage back into its cage. It growled, thrashing against the bars. Shadows crept closer to nuzzle against my ribs as I shifted toward her.

I reflexively pasted my own fake smile on. I had learned the social motions early, but I hated them. Yet, I needed them. This woman wasn't the one to blame anyway. I watched her fingers tweak the hem of her cardigan, her painted mouth remaining tightly fixed in place. The faint shadow at her heel twitched once, then settled quiet. I kept my smile locked in as I gave her a small nod.

“C'mon,” she said. Her nametag read Holly Shalës. Fitting Holly. I almost smirked, while I took the visitor nametag she handed me. I pasted the white tag to my long black tee. Shadows simmered around me in an almost silver glow . She stepped a few steps backwards.

“The maids need to clean better in here, This dust," Holly gasped, saving away just . "Anyway, Come on."

The shadow mists twisted like dust bunnies in a ballet performance around. I mentally told them to back off as we needed to be here. They calmed closer to being small wisps of dust.

Holly walked through to the facility. I hurried after her high-heeled walk. The door stopper caused me to stumble and my dark gold curls fell into my eyes. I pushed them back out of my face, my fingers brushing the gray streaks outlined around my jaw and down my neck. Birthmarks, everyone said. Ala always called them freaky, my perfect society stepmother scoffing whenever I tried to hide them under collarbones and long sleeves. I forced my eyes forward down the hallway. This was not the time for my runaway train of thoughts. I had someone to see and places to go.

I gave a small shrug as I went down a long brightly lit hallway. A fluorescent bulb flickered further down, casting a fainter light. Rows of doors stretched ahead, with some having flashing bulbs above the doors. Two nurses hurried by. One pushed a large medication cart filled to the brim. As they passed, I barely brushed the cart.

My sneaker jammed hard against the cart wheel. I hit the brown carpet as the heavy metal cart tipped and crashed over me. Pill bottles of every size and capped syringes rained down across my neck and chest. I cursed under my breath, straining to yank my caught lace free from the wheel. Trapped flat on my back, I stared at an orange bottle that had bounced hard off my nose. Bright prescription letters glared into my eyes as plastic vials and a heavy glass jar collided right beside my temple. The scattered medical supplies pinned me, leaving me paralyzed on the floor.

At this angle, I could see the multicolor dark brown colors in the chocolate colored carpet. My nose twitched at the slight musty smell while my shadows curled deep inside of me. I could feel them whimper, almost like they living beings. I blinked my eyes a few times. My  eyelashes rested closed on paled cheeks.

“Oh, my God! Holly!! Get maintenance and another med nurse quick!”” yelled one nurse. The other nurse, a small blond in a white uniform Kneeled working to loosen my laces.Holly raced back down the hall, speaking loudly on her phone.I just laid weakly, my body limp, not an emotion left. There were scarcely any left to begin with. I gave an imperceptible laugh through gritted teeth.

. The blonde one finally rolled the cart and untied the lace from the wheel. I tilted my head at her and crawled to a stand

“Are you ok, my dear? “The first nurse asked frowning, her black bushy eyebrows knitted. .Her hands brushed over the sides of my arms and small brown eyes appraising me for any injuries.Mists inched over my clothes. She flinched back as if I had hit her.

“ I’m ok. I’m ok,” I said with a bowed head.. “Should I clean it up?” My blue eyes peeled on the brown rug. What trouble am I in now? Destruction of a nursing home. Medication of all sorts scattered every where. Perfect.

“Its good. We got this mess.” The first nurse calmly said. She smiled and waved me off. Free, I took off down the hall.

I flew down to the end of the hallway, crossing to the next hall. My untied lace caught the opposite rubber sole and sent me face-first into the carpet. Damn. I sat up quickly to knot the string tight, glancing both ways. Empty. Back around the corner, metal trays slammed against the floor with a rhythmic clatter, plastic bottles rattling as they swept up the debris. I pulled the knot tight, my fingers clumsy against the frayed lace.

The pastel walls wore a coat of dull, peeling peach paint that smelled of stale bleach, lined with framed pictures of grinning families sitting on sunny lawns where none of these residents would ever walk again.

I stuck a bitter tongue at the happy family picture on a wall . Two boys fishing with their Grandfather. Fishes bulging eyes stared out of the picture begging me for help.  This place seemed to sprinkle their death with some disturbing brightness. "Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy." As Gramps would derisively remark. I reached his door.

The door was cracked ajar. Elvis Presley played. It sounded like Jail House Rock . I miss

Granps and I moments of dancing to his old rock music with him. Moments of freedom.

“Gramps,” I called softly and knocked on the door.

“Erin,” his hoarse, aging voice called out to me. The dearest voice in the world. My only friend. We were close. Ala, My fairy witch, stepmother,  saw me when it benefited her in her twisted ways. Why she could? I never asked her though. My mind always ran with billions of questions, never stopping, but would especially never ask her anything. Both my biological parents gone so it was just her and my step sisters. The steps usually paid me no mind in a careless way though weird they usually could see me too. Everyone else never really saw me. I liked not to be seen anymore but Gramps always paid loving attention to me. I needed to see him I blinked, entering his small room.

My Gramps, Geon Magellon, sat in a recliner beside a vintage 1940s radio. He bobbed in tune with the song. He turned his white bearded head and grinned  his warm, deeply lined face  gaunt and smile lines etched deep at the sides of his wide mouth. He beamed at me with sea-blue eyes, identical to mine. His hands trembled as he turned the radio down. The bruises on his pale face darker than the last time I was here, especially against the  palest whiteness of skin. I could feel his spirit and shadows fading away. He called his similar shadows, his ghosts. At the present shadows our started duet in a waltz of multicolor grays and silver shapes.

“Hello, baby girl,” Gramps said. I sat on the chair next to him, scraping it close as I could to to him. In his rough, textured hands, he took my softer hand gently. He had a tough life as a soldier, he had told me. It had been long before my birth. He never talked about it much, just spoken in random bursts. We  didn’t even know his true age. Ala said ninety eight but he would laugh at that, shaking his head.

“Love ya,’ I whispered, leaning in close to inhale deep of his lavender and vanilla scent. A musty cedar wood scent swept through the light shadows which surrounded him. I could smell it in my sleep.

“Love ya,” Gramps whispered back. He raised my hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, rubbing a nail down a gray line marking a vein in my thin wrist.

“Now, baby girl. You listen to me. Escape that house. Go where you have to go, and you’ll find your way. I promise you,” Gramps urged, his voice desperate. A harsh, wet rattle tore through his lungs, echoing against the small walls. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Your plans... follow through with them. If they change, trust your instincts. You must train the shadows, Erin. Leave this place. Be smart, but don’t let the darkness eat you alive.” His raspy breaths slowed, dropping to a faint murmur.

“Whaaat?” My tongue felt heavy, thick in my mouth. We shared the shadows, yeah, but why was he spilling nonsense now? His eyes held bright and clear, not wild. The doctors had given him a day or two at least. Not today. Not right now. Graduation was a full year off. My throat tightened until I couldn't draw in air, glancing at his frail frame. I squeezed his calloused hand, my own skin going cold and clammy. Small, dry gasps scraped out of my chest like dust. My ribs pressed inward against my beating heart, every thud echoing the slow tick of his old analog wristwatch; Click, Clock. Click. Clock.

“It’s ok, baby. You will understand. You will!” Gramps demanded, his voice momentarily strengthened, ”they will destroy you if you stay!!”

Gramps’ hand suddenly went dead limply in mine. His head snapped back against the crocheted blanket behind him, his blue eyes rolling up, staring blankly into nothing.

A dry spot flaked across his brow. I reached for the plastic bottle on his side table, unthreading the cap. The lotion smelled of bitter aloe and cheap alcohol, cold against my fingers as I worked it into his temple, following the deep, still grooves above his eye.

Dauuunk......The tube slipped from my hand onto the fake wooden tiles. It created a loud noise in the hushed room.

Love me tender by Elvis played on, while streams of mid-morning light curled under the tightly drawn curtains. His shadows simmered around him before flowing over to me. They moved tenderly across me before making their  misty way up through the suspended drop ceiling. I wonder if any patients had climbed and hid up there. My hand rubbed Grandpa's buttoned-up shirt. He had told me stories of many patients playing tricks like that. Some had even got stuck and died. The staff not thinking to look in the ceiling for them. He called the patients dimwitted nutcrackers.

I blinked and blinked. Then, I closed my eyes and opened them to give him a kiss on his cooling cheek. My lungs burned with trapped air. Blood pooled to cramped toes as shakily I  stood. The unmade hospital bed glared into sight. It should've been made. I went over and pulled the blankets up. He hated unmade beds.

“So long,” I whispered, kneeling to slide the heavy gold wedding ring off his thin finger. It was his prized possession, and I tucked it deep into the front pocket of my backpack. He wouldn’t mind, and Grandma wouldn’t either. I smoothed the pale band of skin left behind on his finger. I tried to see his face in my mind, but inside my head there was only pitch black emptiness, no picture at all, just like every other memory I tried to pull up. Once I closed my eyes, his features were gone forever except for the actual skin in front of me. Here it comes. Are you really sure about this, Gramps? I don’t feel strong enough for this, not without your sharp eyes watching out for me. Shadows can only hide me so far. My eyes burned dry as I reached out, pressed the red call button on the wall, and turned my back on his chair.

How do I get away safe from my current life?

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