YSJ Anthology 2015

21 DREAMS
Millie Douce
21 - Everyone nowadays is a little sharper than before. I smile and I
see smudged faces grin back: faces that once had teeth and eyes
and noses and personalities. They wish me a happy birthday and
clap and cheer until their hands dissolve and their voices scratch at
the air.
20 - I close my eyes and the world turns sepia. Everything is a
snapshot that has been burnt onto my eyelids. It is horribly beautiful,
and I can’t help but stare.
19 - You vomited all down my tights that night. I thought it was just
the alcohol, but then you told me about the powders underneath
your bed and the pale man who kissed you near the bridge.
18 - I smashed his head against the wall. His skull cracked like the
soft shell of an egg, except the yolk wasn’t yellow, it was red.
17 - I moved away to rid myself of you. I rid myself of kiss chase and
lime vodka. I rid myself of underage driving and late trips to
nowhere. I rid myself of a past that was created for me.
16 - She jabs at my eyes with the pencil she bought me for my last
birthday. Instead of taking me to church on Sunday, she now takes
me to the shopping centre. We pretend we’re rich and take the
things that would make our wishes come true, sprinting down the
high street as we laugh away authority.
15 - The bus catches fire and we all laugh as we ricochet into the
flames that envelop the streets. It’s an excitement that we’ve waited
for since we moved here.
14 - The baboons ran out of the cage in quick succession, screeching
as they clambered towards a wonky sunlight. The cage was now
empty, apart from a mass of peels and skins slowly decaying in the
heat.
13 - You’re on the cusp of understanding. The little children laugh in
the sunshine and paddle in the splash pool. The adults lounge on
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