“Deep Breaths”- A Short Story

This is new for Elmo! This week’s post is a short story I wrote after a conversation with a good friend about healing childhood traumas and speaking to your younger self. Am I a fiction writer now? Slow down, Savannah. I wouldn’t go that far. Consider this and the future comic strips you’ll see on this blog, an experiment. One of my goals as a multi-hyphenate is to be a prose and sequential art editor. I see both the Pink Riot Comic Show and The Blerd Library producing anthologies in the near future. And so, I wish to get into the mind of a fiction writer. How does one create a story that reimagines new worlds and liberation? How does one create narrative choices for a particular story? Who or what is influencing a writer? How do I edit?!? I’ve been writing constantly, and I am proud of my progress. Deep Breaths is one of the short stories I am confident enough about to share with the world. It has some grammatical and formatting errors, but I wear them as a badge of pride that I completed a story. I’d love to say ‘talk to me nice because I’m sensitive about my work,’ but I’m not. I want to hear your thoughts, your “praise”, your critiques. It’d be highly hypocritical of me to sit in the seat of a reviewer/critic and refuse that criticism of my own work. So thank you, and without further ado, let’s start with some deep breaths.

The only time she was ever left alone was when she told her family she was going to sleep. Dreams were her weapon of nothingness and solitude but this time, sleeping was her lie. She needed waking time to think about life and her future. It was fall, junior year, and Sarissa was applying for early admissions to college. The past few weeks had been ‘spray and pray’, applying to whichever school she thought would give her enough money to leave her current circumstances. Every application turned in was one more prayer to flee from the constant arguing and belittling from her parents. One more prayer to protect her meager belongings from her thieving younger brother. One more prayer for tranquility.

Earlier in the day, her US history teacher attempted a class-wide meditation exercise as a way “to develop self awareness and bonding” during the school mandated check-in periods. Those exercises were always uncomfortable. Not because of the teacher, bless her heart, she tried her best. It was the class. Sarissa’s ire sat with whoever created the roster. That villain successfully managed to put some of the most immature boys in one room.

 The meditation practice quickly devolved into a cacophony of flatulence as the boys competed to see who could be the grossest in the silence. Sarissa was furious because for a brief moment, she felt something. A new grounding of self that left her hungry for more. And so, she decided to take the risk and meditate and discover what lurked within. 

Sarissa made sure her parents were downstairs, watching her dad’s favorite weekly show and closed her bedroom door. Peace would be nonexistent if they saw the room door closed. But peace also did not exist when they assumed she was doing nothing. She sat in the center of her room, legs crossed, next to her air mattress with mix-matched bedding from the linen closet. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. She tried to breathe steadily and deeply but couldn’t calm herself enough.

Eyes closed, she shook her head in frustration and attempted again but was interrupted by her younger brother, creeping into her room. She opened one eye, saw the little menace, and dug her Gameboy Color out from under the air mattress. It was the one hiding place he hadn’t found. The Gameboy Color was a translucent purple with only two games, Pokemon Red and Donkey Kong Country. All three were gifts from visiting family for her 16th birthday. She thrusted the console and the Pokemon game at him, hoping it would keep him quiet and content enough to walk away. 

Once he left with his pirate’s treasure, she carefully closed the door again and continued her breathing. Short breath in. Slow exhale out. Short breath in. Hold. Slow exhale out. This sporadic pattern went on for some time until the noise of the world began to melt away. Slowly and vaguely, several beings began to appear, forming a semicircle around Sarissa. The group were mouthing words from conversations not connected to one another, and abruptly looking around the room with various looks of remembrance, fear, disgust, and neutrality. Sarissa panicked at the sight of the group, and brought her arm to her mouth, biting down to keep from screaming. That got everyone’s attention.

“Oh, wow. We still do that at- how old are you now?” one of the spirits asked, clearly this time. Her face was a grown version of Sarissa’s, with a cotton candy pink buzzcut and one spiral- curled hot pink loc that reached the top of her breasts. Sarissa gasped at the tattoos and piercings that decorated this woman who sat proudly in front of her in an all black waffle knit pajama set and giant plush Elmo slippers. 

Another woman to Sarissa’s left was a bit older with a more mature face. She had the same tattoos and piercings, a large greying afro, and wore an oversized colorful muu-muu with the same faded plush Elmo Slippers with worn soles. Mature Sarissa laughed heartily for a bit and said “yeah, I don’t think we grow out of that until our early twenties after the grippy sock vacation, right?”

“It worked for something, I guess” came another voice to Sarissa’s right. She turned her head to the woman, who was much younger than the rest. She had thick, medium length locs, dyed brown from the sun, that hung in her face. She wore her old volleyball practice shirt and a pair of grey basketball shorts and Oscar the grouch ankle socks. The younger woman, Miss Sarissa, was more on edge, constantly looking around the room and checking the door. Something Sarissa was doing as well. 

“ Ha! It definitely worked for something.” Sarissa turned to the oldest voice in the room. The strong, wizened voice came from a woman with wrinkled skin, long white hair, braided into cornrows that reached midway down her arms. She had a few less piercings and a few more faded tattoos as the other women and wore a worn to hell t-shirt of Sharissa’s favorite rock band. The band photo was faded and the shirt had holes that were patched with other shirts. Miss Sharissa pointed and yelled “Hey, I remember that shirt! I bought it after the grippy sock vacation when I drove to that concert in Tucson!”

Oldest Sarissa looked down at the shirt fondly and chuckled lightly as she replied “Oh that’s where I got it! I never could remember where I got the shirt. Hopefully I can tell the grandkids after this” 

The two youngest Sarissas jaws dropped as they yelled in unison “GRANDKIDS?! When did that happen?!” Sarissa pointed accusingly at the three older Sharissas. “I thought we swore off kids!” She thought of her younger brother/ bother and shook her head vehemently. “ They’re evil little shits! What happened?! I explicitly said no!”

Indifferent to the outburst, Grown Sharissa shrugged her shoulders, patted down the front of her black pajamas, and crossed her legs, trying to get comfortable.“Eh, it happened. She asked and I obliged.  Don’t worry, you’ll love your kids fiercely, but you still can’t stand other people’s spawns.”

Grown Sarissa was about to get a very long lecture about the times her brother proved that children were terrible until Sarissa processed the entire response. Panic raced down her spine, her discomfort visible. “She?”

A heavy sigh cuts through the soft chuckles of the older Sarissas. “I forget how closeted we are at this time. Yeah, she. They’re a couple of hes, and theys sprinkled in your past…future, too.”

Sarissa shook her head emphatically, trying to blur the future into something more manageable for her mind. “And what does the family say about that?”

“Doesn’t matter what they say. It happened, and you are the happiest you have ever been when you finally admit it to yourself”

“But are they around?”

Mature Sarissa stepped in with a bit more patience. “What she means to say is, it doesn’t help worrying about them. You spend too much time worrying about the family hating the real you.”

“Most of them eventually come around, but that doesn’t happen until later. Mostly after you love you enough to stand up for yourself.” Oldest Sarissa interjected.

Sarissa thought quietly about that, looking around the room, focusing on everything and nothing and checking on the door. Miss Sarissa checked the door again for good measure and the three oldest Sarissas shared a look of sadness and remembrance.

“Back to she. When does that happen?” questioned Miss Sarissa, interested in this new information.

Mature Sharissa beams and says “sometime in our mid thirties, after our graduation party for our masters degree in Biological Agricultural Engineering.” Grown Sharissa shook her head in agreement, smiling at the memory.

“Wait what? Ugh, we work with dirt now?” exclaimed Sarissa.

“No reaction to the masters degree I see” Mature Sarissa muttered as she cut her eyes at the youngest version of herself in the room. 

“You seem real shocked and dismayed for someone who, if I remember correctly, didn’t have a plan other than existing outside this house. Well, now you exist outside.” said Grown Sharissa.

“But i’m not in school now” Miss Sarissa interjects, ears perked up.

“I’m applying to schools right now, you should be a senior. We should be graduating!” exclaimed Sarissa turning to her young counterpart.

Miss Sarissa looks at the floor and mournfully answers “we start but we don’t finish. Things happen and we drop out with a year left.” 

Grown Sarissa adds on “yup, but we return. We eventually return to the important things we start.”

Sarissa pondered this information and resigned herself to her future. Grown Sharissa seemed the most loud and confident of them all. Maybe the change was necessary. She can’t be too mad because they were right. She didn’t have a plan. Or rather, the plan she had, deep down, made the older versions of herself unnecessary. So this was better. There seemed to be green grass on the other side after all. She turned to Grown Sarissa and asked “Okay, so what do we do with our life now?”

Smiling the biggest smile, Mature Sharissa interjected “We have a farming co-op, one of the biggest, most sustainable in our area.We raise chickens, goats, rabbits, pigs, a donkey, and three cows. We have 6 cats and dogs that help out and protect the land. We’re not the best at ‘processing the animals’ but we’ve gotten to a point where we do what’s absolutely necessary. We have farming lands and several gardens. Some for research, others for profit. So yeah, we work in dirt. But we also host workshops, writing, wellness, and creative retreats, and other events for our community. We run an independent market on the weekends where marginalized artisans and vendors sell their goods. And while we have massive community buy in, we prioritize Black and Brown folks in everything we do.”

Grown Sarissa’s smile became feral.  “Oh shit, we did it! We actually fucking did it!” She let out a groan of anguish as she explained “I’ve been working on grant proposals the past few months for some of the things she said. Right now, a lot of that is just a dream.”

Miss Sarissa looked to her left and asked “Do we still have it?”

Oldest Sarissa,eyes closed, responded “Yup, the farm is still there and it’s still sustainable. The kids and grandkids are very protective of it and it is thriving under their care. They added a few new things to it but I’ll let that be a surprise.”

Sarissa took in the group’s revelations just as her door swung open at a speed that made her heart plummet into her stomach. Her brother’s impression of their parents would have been spot on if his voice carried the same bass they had. No, that was impossible at his age. But it was laced with the same venom. “Didn’t I tell you to keep this door open!” The boy laughed as he took in the fear plastered across Sarissa’s face. He raised the console up and said “I’m bored. I know you got another game. It would be a shame if I went downstairs and asked mom and dad where you were. Because I can’t see you with your door being closed and all.”

As Sarissa got her bearings she strained to listen to the ongoings of her parents. Still watching that show. She took a deep breath in, exhaled and looked around the room. The older versions of herself were still there, collectively pissed. She glanced at her brother, oblivious to the rage being sent his way. Sarissa pulled out the Donkey Kong Country game and asked “I give you this and you stay quiet, right?” Her brother appraised the game for a beat before agreeing. She flung the game at him and told him to close the door again. He, being the considerate sibling he was, opened the door even wider as he departed to his room next door.

“We don’t have much time, I doubt he’ll stay quiet.” 

As Sarissa closed the door, Oldest Sarissa said “That little shit is lucky I’m at peace because if ever become a haint, I’d spend the rest of his life making it miserable. Scare him till he shit himself” The group nodded and cackled in agreement.

Sarissa brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs and tucked her head. “I’m glad this version of life isn’t all I have.”

“It’s not.”

“We have so much more to give and receive.”

“We’ll be okay”

The group sat in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, wondering what would happen next. 

Lifting her head to face her council of self, Sarissa admitted “Future me seems…better. Completely different but loved and at peace. I can’t really argue with the evidence. So how do I do this? How do I keep this?” gesturing to the group of women.

Miss Sarissa glanced at her and in a very serious voice counseled “Survive. We’ll be okay in the end but all you have to do is survive.”

Grown Sarissa stared at her pointedly and said “I don’t know how all this works but hopefully things will go a lot smoother, a lot faster, if you try to trust yourself more. You can’t care about others more than you care about yourself.

Mature Sarissa, always sympathetic, met the eyes of her youngest self. “Ask for seeds. Tell the parents you’re doing a science experiment for school. You’re smart enough to figure out a cover experiment. But grow something. Tend to it and watch a seed take root and transform. That will help you.” 

Oldest Sarissa, still frustrated with the younger brother’s intrusion, tempted “I wish you knew about plants because I’d tell you to get a bunch of ragweed and stuff it all over his room.”

“We murdering folks now?—”

“BUT he has really bad asthma and we don’t need that on our spirit” Oldest Sarissa continued with her hands raised, rolling her eyes. “So I guess I’ll say find something small to appreciate everyday and read that list of books that the English teacher gave you.” 

“Who?”

“Next year. In your senior year, your English teacher is going to give you a list of books. Read them all”, Miss Sarissa corrected.

Sarissa had even more to ponder and felt the fatigue of the stress and wonder of the night finally get to her. 

She cautiously opened the door, making sure it didn’t creak. The volume on the downstairs tv was slightly lower as her parents listened to the nightly news. Her nemesis was snoring, most likely with her console and games buried in his hoard of goodies lifted from his victims. The Sarissas cleared a path for her to flop into her makeshift bed and struggle with comfort. The group surrounded the air mattress with the too thin blanket, humming a lullaby their grandmother used to sing to them. 

As she began to fade, her dreams blossomed into an array of contrasting colors streaked with neon flashes. Sharp, hot purples, oranges, and blues spiraled all around her. Music of old and new, distant lullabies swirled low, pierced into the hard, arid ground beneath her, creating the pulse of her inner world. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum-bum. The sky goes a deep purple black as it bursts and settles into the twinkling of a billion stars.The air, once empty of life, begins to circulate new elements, chemicals, and organisms, finding its place in the breath of her universe.The ground erupted with light. Greens of lichen, moss, and greys of fungi sprout about her toes, tickling them as they work to break ground for newer, bigger plants. Sarissa takes deeper breaths. Deep, deep, DEEP breathes and drifts off as her world becomes more vibrant, more alive. 

She woke up the next morning alone and on the floor, thanks to the small leak in the mattress. The typical pains of waking up on the hard floor were gone. She eased herself to her window to take in the cool morning warmth of the sun and inhale deeply. Her body and mind rested and ready to take on the day.