Inside A Black Hole

Grade 11 Literary Arts - Chapbooks

Remember when we felt like animations? A bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face Remember how we used to bend reality Yelling out, into the sun Here we come, here we come I was alone in crowds but not in sentiment Remember how we forgot? The future isn’t what it used to be I trace figures on your smile lines I know I haven’t written much You know the way I can be A wanderer, wandering Are you tired of me yet? My greatest failures on display I’m just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut How do I forgive myself For losing so much time? I miss ramen noodles and laughing I just missed you I’m stuck swimming in shadows down here It’s been forever since I came up for air Choked up, I realize I've lost a piece of me in you Remember the pact of our youth I'll be here throughout your days Come find me and we will play

Forever us Warmed winters side by side An unbreakable trust Dissipated Strong does not mean invincible&nbsp; I’ve learned that lesson well The fear that I had been replaceable Caused the first crack Nothing feels right So far out of reach You grew bright While I faded&nbsp; Never meant to be I will leave you behind Think of you in reverie Forever us

Lonely is composed of language from Cavetown, Wilbur Soot, Shane Koyczane, Tristam &amp; Braken, glass beach, Sleeping at Last, Glass Animals, and Gang of Youths.

“When I was a kid, I learned that time slows near a black hole. Inside a black hole time stops altogether. Whether or not this theory will ever be proved, I am moved to believe, this would be the perfect place to love someone.”

I’m sorry You were so bright when I first got you A purple geode, a gift, unrefined,&nbsp; They said we were alike So I kept you close And cared for you as I did myself Not well We have both been dulled Beneath layers and layers of dust&nbsp; One time I dropped you There is a broken piece And an empty space Waiting to be fixed Wait a little longer Between the two of us, I was never good a fixing things, so&nbsp; Wait Maybe we are alike More so than I thought I met someone new They told me I wasn't what they expected They told me they were expecting purple I wonder if that’s our similarity

I won't think of the white scratches on your surface They were mostly my fault and maybe that’s why I keep you covered in dust A vain effort to hide the hurt I’ve caused But I keep the piece with me Sitting in my coat pocket I wanted to make it into a necklace, hold it over my heart So you could go to rest Somewhere nicer than my shelf But I haven’t yet And probably never will I’m sorry

Dedicated to Lee, for long hours made easier.

They have been there for as long as I remember: the crows. I’m told that when I was a baby the only way to get me to stop crying was to bring me outside, and maybe that’s where we first met. My mother has never been able to understand why I love them.&nbsp; “Your sister likes hummingbirds,” she said, and showed me pictures. They are pretty, tiny things. Children, however, are stubborn; so I stuck with crows. When I was old enough to be left alone for hours, I would spend them in the garden. It was fenced off so my parents wouldn’t worry, and I would sit with a book in one hand and binoculars in the other. Fences mean nothing to birds, afterall. Occasionally I would bring a snack with me. Sometimes berries, ornuts, whatever I could grab; scatter it around the far part of the garden, sit, and watch the birds peck. I always sat in the shade of the big oak tree in the corner, which might have been the reason I didn’t notice when someone snuck up behind me. “You don’t have to be so far away, you know.” The person I found standing over my shoulder was friendly, or as friendly as an unwelcome stranger&nbsp;could be. They smiled at me. Their eyes were black, which unsettled me, so I looked away quickly.&nbsp; “They would get scared,” I said hesitantly, “if I got too close.”

&nbsp;The stranger chuckled. “Crows don't get scared as easily as you do, little one.” They raised an arm and almost instantly a crow separated from the group and came to perch. The stranger smiled fondly and reached into their pocket to bring out a handful of blueberries. They gave a few to the crow. “I call her Blue, cause these are her favorites. I thought it fit.” I sat there, staring. Eventually they left, and my mother called me inside. I kept bringing snacks outside, but it was a bit different. Blue would occasionally hop over to my sitting place, or maybe perch on the low hanging branches of the oak tree. I enjoyed her company. The stranger would join us sometimes. On days when the stranger came they would sit next to me, urging me to move closer. The crows began to join me, under the shade of the oak tree. Eventually, with the stranger trying not to laugh close by, I managed to coax one of the crows to let me hold them. My hand was shaking as I gently rested it on the crow’s back. The crow stared at me for a second, before snatching another almond from the pile of snacks. “What will you name him?” asked the stranger, finally composing themselves enough to talk. “What about,” I began, “Al. You know, for the almonds.” The stranger smiled at me. “I think it fits.”

When I was nine, I went tubing for the first time. It was one of the rare times when all my cousins were at the cottage, back when the cottage was still a fun place to be. They were worried I would fall off, so Julia went with me. The oldest and youngest cousins, what a great pair. I got on first and Julia climbed on afterwards. She had one arm around me to keep me safe, and was smiling brightly. Even when she fell into the water, she was smiling. We decided that was enough tubing for one day. I know my cousin. I know her from family dinners and afternoons spent with everyone else on the cottage deck. Doesn’t matter that I spent most of that time waiting until I could leave, only listening enough to know when someone was addressing me. Doesn’t matter that I only saw her every other year when we travelled to Vancouver, and even then she would so often be busy with school, work, or friends. Somewhere along the line I started asking if the cousins would be there, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. The answer was always no.

Julia is getting married. I think I’ve seen her boyfriend—fiance now—around a few times. A few years ago during some big event he came up to the cottage. Apparently he offered my dad a beer. I remember him, I think. Pretty sure he has brown hair. And hair is significant because for years it was the only way I knew which cousin was which. Julia wore her hair in a ponytail, Sofie left it to fluff around her face. They both had the same orange frizz, just like Thomas. Kacey and Molly had light brown hair. My hair is almost black. It’s easy to tell who was out of place. For a second after hearing about Julia’s wedding, I felt lost. I look out onto our garden. A garden my cousins have never set foot in despite me being to every one of theirs and I think. I don’t know my cousin, not really. And they don’t know me either.

after Yosa Buson's “Lighting One Candle”

A pillow fort, The&nbsp; Last line of defense, light&nbsp; At the start of&nbsp; The tunnel. A&nbsp; Calm, comfortable, candle Flickering, frail, Is&nbsp; Forced to be transferred&nbsp; From somewhere stable to&nbsp; Someplace not, another&nbsp; Tossed, lost, candle— Alight, frost-bright Spring&nbsp; We died at twilight

Call written by Lee Winchester

“You can do so much, You don’t have to fade” I set fire to the earth And settled in the flames

Response written by Yasmin Nowlan

“I would give you the world, If you asked” I watched you burn And cradled the ash

Our ending wasn’t dramatic It was warm It came in the form of a pillow fort Adorned with fairy lights Too small and yet as big as we could make it It was warm Beneath that dim light And countless blankets you were smiling In that carefree way I‘d forgotten It was warm Because you were holding me Because you wanted to&nbsp; Not because I was falling apart You were warm And we were gone We live now in our epilogue Months spent silent Stories we may never share Like how I’ve been speaking to someone new And they asked me to build a pillow fort

We got along, Al and I. He got more comfortable with me, and I with him. I started carrying almonds constantly, and Al would pick at my bag if I took too long getting them out. He brought me a shiny rock once, and I polished it and made it into a necklace. I would like to think he recognizes it. Al kept me company even when the stranger was nowhere to be found, hopping around nearby or sitting side by side with Blue. Once, when I sat down in the shade, Al came to sit with me. Not exactly right beside me, but closer than he had ever been. I gave him his own little pile of almonds, though he didn't eat many. The next day, he disappeared and didn’t come back. I think I knew that no matter how many days I waited it wouldn't change anything. Al was gone. It was easier to imagine he had simply flown off somewhere, and was enjoying some snacks. That fantasy became harder to believe when the stranger came back. They sat with me, quiet, staring out at the empty garden. “Goodbyes hurt, don’t they?” They said. “I’m sorry, little one.”&nbsp;

“What would you do if the world was ending?” I lean back in my chair. It’s a heavy question, but it’s 3 a.m. on a school night so what else are we supposed to do. I wonder, briefly, what you looked like when you asked me that. Were you staring at the ceiling? For some reason, I always imagined you in blue light, even though I’ve never seen you like that before. Not that I’ve seen you much at all.&nbsp; “I think...” I think of pillow forts and faded faces, “I think I would like to see my friends. One last time.” “Not family?” You ask, not accusatory, just curious.&nbsp; “My family all has someone to be with,” I say. “My friends… I would at least like to give them another option.” You hum in agreement. “I would find a park or something to meet with everyone. We could make a mountain of blankets.” “The sky would probably look pretty if there was a meteor.” You say, and I agree. I once watched a movie with a breathtaking opening centered around a meteor. We both aren’t big movie fans, but it would be fun to watch it again with you. Maybe one day I'll ask. “What would you do?” I look back to my computer screen. Your profile picture stares back at me. A raccoon, after I, half asleep, had compared you to one. There's a brief silence before you answer. "I think I would like to be alone." You say. Not a surprising answer, by any means, but I'll admit when I said I would

like to see my friends I also meant you. "Go to a roof somewhere, with a blanket and sound-canceling headphones." "Sounds nice," I respond. We both take a moment to sit in silence. There have been more of those lately, those silences. When we first started talking it felt like I couldn't get enough air for all I wanted to say, but now things have slowed down a bit. Not that our calls have gotten any shorter. Yesterday we spoke for five hours, and we're getting close to the seven-hour mark today. The quiet is comfortable, though.&nbsp; "If all of my friends," I begin softly, selfishly, "had other places they would rather be, if they were all alright... I think I would like that too. To be alone." "I have an extra pair of sound-canceling headphones," You say. I see it in those hazy ways dreams are remembered. Me, tired as I always am and never used to be, climbing up to an abandoned rooftop. Who would notice who first? Maybe we would see each other at the same time, although you might be a little easier to spot. I would greet you with a smile. "Although we would have to sit back to back, I don't want you to see me cry." I laugh, "You've already cried on call with me how different would it be in person?" "It just would be. Take it or leave it." Of course, I would take it.&nbsp; "We would watch the world end together," I say. "Not bad at all."&nbsp;

Hey! Sorry, I know it’s been a while since I last messaged you, even though I said I would do it more often. Things have been busy, even though nothing has really been happening, so there hasn’t really been anything to say, which is probably why I’m calling you instead of messaging, even though I know you don’t ever check your voicemail and it's like… five a.m. for you.&nbsp; Honestly I’m surprised you aren’t still awake. I mean, I guess there's a chance that you are and that you just didn’t want to talk on the phone, or maybe you just didn’t recognize my number or something. I hope you’re asleep. You know, a full eight hours and all that. It’s important. Though I guess you wouldn’t want to hear that from me. (Laughs) Let’s see, what else? Oh! I’m at my family cottage, though I think I already told you that. Last time I was up here it was with you, so maybe that’s why I've been missing you more than normal. It was, what, two years ago? Three? Have we really not seen each other in so long? It doesn't feel like that long ago. Time’s weird like that, sometimes. I think a lot about when we were younger. How we spent so long in the same class but never spoke until all of a sudden, we were speaking every day. If I’m being honest it feels like nothing has changed since then. (Beat) Except… things have changed, haven’t they? When you were younger you talked to a lot of people, sure, but you were never so busy before. Now look at you. Youngest member of the student council, taking over the school social media, organising these huge events. You have so

much planned for the future. And you’ll do it all, too! No doubts here, you were always amazing like that. Do you remember, sometime in grade nine? I said that I was glad we went to separate schools. Cause I was afraid I would hold you back if we didn’t. And I wanted to try and be something myself. You said then, that I didn’t hold you back, but I still think you’re wrong. And don’t get me wrong, I’m glad! I always knew you could do so much, and now, well now you are, aren’t you? It’s just… I mean, you rarely have time to talk now. And I kinda miss that. Even when we do talk, things are… difficult. We never used to ask how eachothers day were, because we spent those day together. Now it’s pretty much the only thing we ask. Sorry, I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to turn this into me complaining. I know that happens a lot, I don’t want you to think that that’s the only reason I want to talk to you more, is to complain, because it’s not. I just wanted to let you know. That I miss you and all. And texting it leaves so much time to get embarrassed and then it’ll all be over so quick and… Well you know I was reading about letters the other day. How they make normal conversations feel a bit more special. And I was thinking about how the only person I would send a letter to would be you. And the scenery around this cottage really makes you want to write a letter. But I don’t remember your address even though I’ve been there a thousand times, and if I asked you, you would want to know why, so I thought voicemail would be close enough so… yeah. I miss you. And I love you, as always.&nbsp; I hope you still love me too.

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