CONTENT WARNING: The topic of loss/grief is present in this story
Whenever I went anywhere, my dad would drive me. Every day of school, since my first day of elementary, he would drop me off and pick me up. “Be good, be nice, and pay attention.” he’d say before kissing me on the head and sending me on my way to class. One afternoon in June, I was in the car with my dad, coming home from school, like any other day. On the radio, he was playing “Viva Las Vengeance”, a new single from my favorite artist, Panic! at the Disco, which my dad liked to listen to with me and sometimes play for me. I’ve loved this artist for a few years now, and I’ve always wanted to see them live. With the new song came a new album, and a chance to see them live. I had previously asked my dad if we could go see a show, but he said no, which I was okay with since I was used to never seeing any live shows, and tickets weren’t cheap. As we were driving home with the song playing, we reached a stop light. My dad pointed to a car in front of us and asked me what its brand logo says. From my eyes, it looked like a ‘K’ and a backward ‘N’ smushed together. “K-N?” I questioned. He said no, “Kia.” “Oh, that does not look like it says, Kia. Why’d they change it?” It seemed like a random question at the time, so I mostly forgot about the interaction, until I was in the car, with my sister driving. One day in July, I was in the cafeteria of Kaiser Permanente. My eyes were dry, my head hurt, and my chest felt heavy. My older brother was scrolling through pictures on my dad’s phone, while we processed what the doctors said, that these were the final moments. As my brother was looking through pictures, he clicked on a screenshot with the face of the lead singer of Panic! at the Disco and some text on it. I took a glance, and that's all I needed. Even though the moment was a blur, I still saw from one look at the phone, “You got the tickets.” “a surprise... He really wanted to…” mom said. “...promised I’d take you,” sister said. I could hear them, but barely since all I could think of was dad. My dad was great at surprising me, and sometimes he would leave me small clues of a surprise, that I wouldn’t really get until after the fact. I couldn’t help but only think, “He’s supposed to take me.” One day in October, my sister was driving us to my first concert. I sat and watched the sunset from my seat, thinking that I should be excited. Then, I thought about where we were going, The Kia Forum. My sister looked at my crying self, inquisitive. I spoke softly, “I remembered something.” WRITTEN BY HEIDI ROCHA-MORAN
A notification pops up on my computer, snapping me out of my mind-wandering, reminding me that I’ve been on the computer for 8 hours. I check the time seeing that it’s two in the morning. I look away from my computer, looking through my window, to see that the moon is out. Looking back at my computer at the blank google docs, letting out a loud sigh. I slap the computer closed and flop on my bed, not wanting to have any more ideas and not being able to word them. I’ll let my mind rest for the night. It is the cold season so I put on my largest brown coat, my red scarf, and my boots. I close the door behind me, ready for work. Soaking the sun up trying to escape the coldness of an early morning. I walk to my car, looking behind me seeing an orange cat up on my roof. Also using the sun to its advantage. I run into work, getting blown with the smell of paper and ink. I ran to my locker and put my coat and red scarf away. I tie my hair and put my apron on trying to blend in with everyone. Knowing that I’m shameless for coming to work and having nothing to show. Even though I tried to hide, my boss noticed me right away. After a long day of getting scolded by my boss, I made it home. I see the same orange cat from before at my doorstep. I walk inside my house and come back outside with a can of tuna. The cat shows no fear and eats gratefully. After watching the cat awhile I go back inside. I changed my clothes into pjs, grabbed my computer, and sat down on the couch ready and determined to write something. I came up with nothing that day. For weeks I fed that cat, that cat became a dear friend. For weeks I came up with nothing. For weeks my boss has scolded me and for weeks that cat was the only highlight of my day. I got out of my car and my boss's voice echoed in my head. I only have three days to make a whole book and if I have nothing I’m fired. I drag my feet to my house, to be greeted by my dear friend. I do the same thing I do everyday, I get out my can of tuna and feed my dear friend. Today is different though, the cat wants to show me something. The cat meows loudly and even though I can’t understand the cat I know I have to follow. I follow the cat and every now and then the cat would look back making sure I’m following. We reach the destination. It’s beautiful, you can see the whole town and the clouds are so close you feel like you can touch it. There is a bench under a beautiful green tree. I sit down and watch the view, I sit and think. I finally have it, I finally have my book. Thank you my dear friend, the cat. -Heidi Rocha Moran WRITTEN BY JADEN GONZALEZ Living in this wonderful city named Omelas comes with everything you could possibly want or even imagine happiness is everywhere although people may not show it. We can all tell it's their, Walking home seeing people pump out to music dancing but with no smile. How can someone not smile while dancing nor laugh. I tend to see people huddling towards a small closet near the middle of this city, the people who come back from the room tend to cry in despair or in anger as if someone inside this closet was so important to them it's their only reason they function. Could it be their whole purpose for being alive, maybe keeping us alive. There's a rule to never speak to this being and to let it rot in its closet. I don't understand why, it is almost as if this rule were meant to be broken yet it can almost extinct us, as if that were possible. I walk for minutes back and forth almost getting lost before finding my way back to my apartment. I saw people walking out of the city almost as if they had a purpose somewhere to go rather than this city. Why would they want to leave here? It has everything you could possibly want. Could it be the being inside or something they're willing to find out. They don't have regrets but that's also what this city lacks, there's no such things as being happy, only pain, suffering and futility. They are what gets you recognized or let alone allows yourself to be interesting as if this city wants you to be sad and gloomy. I just don't get this city. How could this city be so amazing yet so astronomical? The next morning I wake up, get ready for work and walk out the door, just to witness someone walking their baby while looking at their phone almost hitting a car. The driver did not care neither did the parents, they just smiled. I get into my car and drive to work. Arriving, I head to the cashier and start helping customers, I could tell one of them was a little unstable and as I approach him I can start to tell he gets more and more nervous biting his nails and running his hands through his hair. He starts to cry almost as if he saw something he shouldn't. But why was he crying if this city was so wonderful and no one lived with regret. Could this be because he's suffering? Is this why I'm so interested in him? He shouts to get away and to leave him alone. But I ignore and ask him if he needs something. He tells me to get away once again and starts to rip his face skin. Now this is the time I start to realize something is truly wrong with this person. I back away and the man starts to calm down realizing what he just did. He runs out the store knocking a pot. I think nothing of it, I just clean up the remaining dirt and tidy up the pot and return back to work. As my shift ends I walk to my car that's parked up towards a hill with its beat up mirror and almost leeching tire. I start up the engine and prepare to head towards my home. While I wait I get a notification encouraging me to stay indoors as a huge crisis has emerged. The wind starts blowing heavily destroying a rusty mailbox spilling all the papers trapped inside, I manage to grab one and the title states “The soul” the more I read the more I understand this city. The heart of the reason this whole city was the way it was because the being they had trapped was to be blamed, it was the fuel to the fire. The entire structure to this city and now that it has been ripped everything started failing. People no longer remained happy, people started feeling normal feelings. The people that wandered off the city have returned almost as if these people matured. The city was so quick to find a new being, and I was the one to be picked out of the thousands of people I was the one to be picked. Now I understand how that being once felt. I just want to cry, being trapped in a very narrow space being fed just enough to survive having almost no strength left. I just simply wish to die. I no longer want to live in this city. I want this city to die and I die with it, maybe if I die I can save the people. Not sacrificing myself to keep the people stable is the only thing I can do at this point. I have nothing to do other than peep out the small hole where there's just enough light. I've noticed I tend to bite my nails a lot, almost like I was nervous but I don't feel nervous. Living days in this cell, people come to visit me but they leave in horror and sorrow speaking no words. One more person and I start to bite, cry, and even rip parts of my flesh off. Now I've realized that I've become just a toy to be played with not to be thrown away and put through hell. WRITTEN BY ZACHARY BUENAVENTURA The dimly lit lamps are mere decorations in the streets of Omelas. The sun engulfing the light from these objects appears to have served no purpose. However, hundreds of these tiny useless lamps are able to light up walkways from left, right, front, and center. Gongs here, clicking there, brightness in the corner, darkness in the back, cheers up front, moaning inside, cheers and chewing from the center of town, and guilt that is nowhere to be seen or felt. The breeze feels nice up here, almost like I am watching over the mountains and clouds grazing across the rooftops of the houses. Anyone of all ages indulges in such they please, no apologizing, no guilt, no sorry, no forgiveness. And what for? People of this nature emulate chaos and stress. Our perception of this is not like it, to settle in such privileged choices is troublesome. Yet essential to end neglect, conquer these issues, and disregard the circumstances, the individuals who watch you, are like you. No significance of good obligation and the ramifications of your actions. We and they live free. This is our happiness, what's yours?
I am important to me and me, this is what's happening, you can join. I see disregarding movements and sounds. She say he say. Blame disintegrated until it's eradicated from our minds. It is anticipated, from each native standing before us. To realize is to hope, and to accept is to understand. They were not savages, smiles were only shown and always genuine. Laws were unnecessary, everyone understood their limits. Sophistication shows intellect and sharpness. No need to ponder over issues that leave you empty-minded. Satisfaction comes with a cost, power. This place is filled with delight and an overbearing level of joy. Whether you accept it or not, this is where it is made, this is where we need to be. There is one problem, there is something in a dark room. Not necessarily blooming, more of surviving. Barely. Citizens come here for a pat on the back. Knowing “it” exists. Is the only sense of failure. But it's here. Soaking up the failures falling from above. You put this here Do you believe that? Imagine it, it's real. This is real. |
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