Chapter 1
Que Mapa?
oneshot
Airman texas
dallas r jowadda.
Short story.
Figure it out yourself.
&
On the map, I lived near the shore. An apartment near the ocean, right off the decks, a neighborhood open to the world.
The map.
Near the shore where I lived, it was a beautiful place. I awoke to seagulls calling each other at dawn, a communication I could never understand, well, maybe with some practice. I smelled the ocean, I smelled the fresh air, the waves where I lived had a fresh scent, distinct to myself. i was not too important in the neighborhood, i lived alone and i worked a normal job in the local fish and butcher shop, as a clerk and butcher. Nothing was horrible, bad, but nothing was good or great either. My childhood, i remember clearly, i was doing awful at a subject and i studied hard and i got a 95 on the final test, i still feel... good about that. Even till this day, though i do feel a bit bland looking back at it. Another assignment was a map. We had to create a map.
The map was of my hometown, my neighborhood. My house back then was a few blocks away from my apartment, still near the shore. The map which i created was with 2 dear friends. The assignment was that we first had to create separate maps of our neighborhoods and houses, and then we all had to create one map of the city. Isabella, that was her name, the only girl in the group for the project. She was beautiful, i wonder what she is doing now. Her smile, her bright attitude, i really did like the group with her, i wonder what she’s doing now, probably married, maybe traveling the world, the big wide world i’ll never be truly a part of. The other boy in the group was antonio, he was like me, rowdy. We had fun drawing and exchanging cards, whenever we met, we were happy together, forgetting about the map or the strict Mrs. Brilla. Good times, good times. My map, i remember, was mostly white, i only filled in a square of the Bristol board. In the middle, was a clean drawing of a few houses of my neighborhood, plain and old fashioned, everything out of the circle, was just white. Antonios map was colorful, robots everywhere and small drawings and specks of dirt, a lively neighborhood, but he couldn’t see the shore, but he lived near the school, so it was not all bad. The map of my household was white and black, simple. It was of my couch, my living room, my room, and mother and father’s room. Yet again, around was white. Isabellas map of her neighborhood was girly, pink and sparkles, bows, it made me feel a bit hot though, she was warm, and it made me feel fuzzy. Together, our map was beautiful, split into 4s. Mine was black and white of the coast, each line was from a ballpoint pen, around was white. The ocean, i let it be white. Her map was bright and colorful, like her, I’d want to live there, maybe in a magical and fantast world. His map was rough like mine, yet colorful and bright, like hers, using many different colors even if they didn’t look good together, i don’t understand that. 3 people for 4 parts, we left the last part blank, the area neighboring the shore, my part, we left it white, blank. We didn’t do anything to it, i still don’t know why we left it like that, but i may remember me and Isabella making a promise, one day to fill it together.
&
I never knew where i was.
&
We made a promise to each other, to fill the wish, the map, i promised him we’d be friends forever. He’s a fisherman at the shore, a different one, i never see him, he’s a stranger, he has a family. She married a man and had his children, she lives on the outskirts, i haven’t seen her in a long time. I live on the shore, i live on the shore, i live on the shore. I love the ocean and i love the shore and i love the shore and the ocean and ill make sure that when i die ill be at the shore and ill be living at the shore at the shore at the shore and at the shore and where the map is, the shore, the map and the shore and the shore is on the map and its white around and the shore is the map and the map of my life is white and blank but i live on the shore and i don’t feel important but that’s okay and i love the shore and the ocean and the shore and i live there.
&
The distinct sound of seagull chatter made me peer one more time at them, glossing over the ocean, i saw a hint of a blurry, beautiful ocean, reminding me of the place where i am. They didn’t leave me behind, i stayed here on my own, i did not want to go anywhere, i was not offered to go anywhere, why would i? Importance, i don’t think it really exists for anything. 38 years, that’s my age, i am 38 years old. Isabella was married 5 years ago, i remember a wedding going on not near the shore where everyone else married. She had a wedding on the opposite side of the city, near the garden. My mother, my family, everybody’s family married on the shore which i lived on, the beach, the coast, why... why didn’t she? My foot is cold sitting on the bench of the shore, it’s warm around this time of year, but a wind was coming on strong. She has children, Isabella, they’re 5 and 4. Antonios a businessman, and he lives far far away. He told me on the day he left, we were both 18, he told me he was going to leave, and he left for the airport. He told me he was leaving for a new life, a new town, i felt my chest ache, why would anybody leave this town and shore? i looked at the green vines near the house, one that was west to the shore, i saw green, i saw blue and i saw sand, i saw different colours which worked, and it made me feel better. Within these feelings of which i felt, happiness almost felt like a mask, a feeling of melancholy under. i forgot what it even felt like, it isn’t too important. the map was black and white, i remember, that’s why the teacher gave a lower mark, she said it was too black and white, she said i needed color. The sky around me was blue, and i saw the sand grains, i saw the waves and the simple noise they made, why would i need colors, when i had that? the map was not important. i went silent.
i remember the last words she said to me.
You need to be more colorful.
i have not seen her, maybe that’s why she left.
Mother died, father died, and brother died. At the funeral, i gave an oyster and a clam, both white and beige, i put it on the casket. The flowers around were pretty and colorful and people gave me stares as i gave an oyster and clam, the funeral home had a painting of a shipwreck on a palm tree, but the ocean was not colored, just the beach and the boat. Mother died, it hurt me. She told me she wanted colorful stuff, like flowers for her birthday. i did not give her that, i gave her a clam and a bucket of sand i found which had a few rocks in it for her last birthday. i feel sad that i did not give her something colorful. Father told me not to give him anything, even after he died. He always looked at me blankly, he told me he did not want me to embarrass his friends. Father died, it hurt me. He gave me something when he died, it’s in a box, i haven’t checked it yet.
Maybe ill check it out.
&
I opened the chest in my living room; he gave me the chest before he died. i opened the chest. It was photos of me as a baby, a pearl necklace i had on in a photo of when i was 3 and a little crown. The shore. The shore, i had to think of the shore. I felt tears run down my eyes, i was crying, i had to think of the shore. i fell to my knees, i was crying and i could not think about the shore.
Inside was a photo of me and my mother, i remember when she asked for something colorful and i... i...
i cried more. i kept crying.
They all told me to be more colorful.
My father, the crown i made for him in kindergarten, he told me it needed more color.
Color.
Not the shore.
i was a part of a club, the rock collection club. They all left to become archeologists and scientists. They all left and all i had were rocks, i really like rocks, they didn’t care about the rocks on my shore. i like my rocks and my shore, they wanted to do more. i was happy with the rocks, i run the club myself and I’m looking for more members.
They don’t understand,
They want to find color.
&
i walked out to the shore. It was clear weather. I was wearing a brown jacket. i went on the sand, i looked to the ocean. There was no one near me, the shore was empty, it’s been like this for a while now. I am scared the shore is dying, but i am happy im alone here right now, in the shore, looking at the ocean, i smiled and my chest got tighter, and it ached and i felt sad like my eyes heated up. i feel alone.
i feel alone.
i loved you. i heard those words on a tv show. i haven’t heard it.
&
Whenever they look at me. They tell me to be more colourful, they tell me to feel, they tell me to be more human. i want to be quiet, i want to live on the shore, it makes my head hurt feeling anxiety. It feels crowded, i dont like that, i want to be alone, near the shore.
&
... i looked at my brown jacket, i was near the shore, i looked at the waves and i thought if it was the final time, how would it be. i thought about my life, all i could see were days of my childhood, the bright sun, late nights, early mornings and the shore. The shore remained the same, it was always the same, regardless of if i shut my eyes and looked away, when i looked back, it was the same. If i could draw a map today, it would be the same. Black and white, large borders, and the shore in the middle.
I jumped into the sea. To feel it. To feel the shore. To feel the map. To feel something. To feel colorful. To feel color.
&
Nothing was good, nothing was bad, that was the map, that was my color, everchanging, like the shore.
&
I heard crying, I heard important noises, I heard hospital noises and the smell of disinfectant. I knew i was important, They were all looking at me. New people I haven’t seen before. I was crying. I felt a soft hand stroke my hair, I looked up, I was in a woman’s lap, being soothed by her as she looked down, hair grazing down onto her shoulders. I could not stop crying, I did not feel the shore, I felt a strong ache in my chest, I felt melancholy of my past life, I felt blurry and all too clear. I could not stop crying,
Looking at my new mother and my new family. Important.
&
The map.
&
Hauntingly beautiful. I felt my life, I felt the weight of beauty, of before and after. If this is my end, I live, not by the shore, but by I, because I am important. Life is something I truly cannot describe, I can only cry, and ache, and cry tears of joy, tears of everything, tears of everything I’ve ever known.
Que mapa.
My map, all there is to it.
The end.
