Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maple Mathers Feb 2016
When I was six, my grandmother enrolled me in ballet class.

     This choice was the first of many attempts to negate my tomboyish nature. Perhaps, she’d hoped that instead of collecting insects and cutting apart Barbie dolls, the pirouettes and glitzy attire might spin me. I was spun, eventually, but that had nothing to do with dance.

     Blame it on my peers; blame it on the tutus. Truth be told, my time was generally spent out of sight; but I got my kicks sneaking a reptiles home, playing with dinosaurs - never dolls, or - of course - taming earwigs. Alone.

     I don’t remember the classes, or the other little girls. In fact, the sole (no pun intended) impression left behind by those dance classes was why they'd end.
It was to be my first recital. The whole class had been coaxed into flashy leotards and uncomfortable tights. We’d been instructed to skip in a single file line onto the stage, which catalyzed my predicament, as I hadn’t a clue about the routine.

     As the girl preceding me danced into view, I floundered in terror – my turn had arrived. I fumbled along in her wake, passing the curtain and reaching the stage.

     The stage!

     An arena of ruthless lights, unveiling my anonymity. I faltered in terror, registering the audience registering me. How vast the auditorium looked against my tiny body! Betrayed by those blinding stage lights, I cowered at the mercy of the whole world.

     The instructor, a faceless female, was showing whose boss as girls began skipping around me.

    And yet, there I stood. Petrified that moving forward negated any hope of escape. My proximity to the curtain merited two options... the bright side of the curtains, which would soon claim everyone else in the vicinity, or the dark. I engaged in a mental game of Tug-a-war that lasted all of about half a second.

     The dark curtains won.

     So, dodging around the obnoxious ballerinas, I descended back into safety. It mattered not where I went, as long as I put distance between myself and the audience. Distance between myself, and detection.

     At some point, I discovered a backstage crevice, in which darkness sheathed me. For, even at five, I understood dark and safety to be synonyms.

     So, I crawled inside, and I hid.

     I don’t remember who went seeking. Nor, do I know who found me. Nobody is a possibility; it was an “Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free” forfeit, perhaps. A rule that defeats the point of its own game. For at six, I was young enough to obey that “come out, come out, wherever you are” nonsense. But, such rules were dropkicked long ago.

     For, your existence – dear hide-and-seek – all but defines me. This game, that darkness, possesses my psyche.

     Some days, I ponder the uncertainty of memories. Vexed, for where memory dies, illusions are born. Illusions romanticizing reality – a reality in which I never came out, lost and unfound, a reality in which I’ll never come out, out, wherever I am. Hidden beneath the darkness.

     For, in truth, I have been hiding ever since.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)

Excerpt from my novel, Pretense.
Lennox Trim Oct 2023
I read minds and break hearts.
I break rules then fall apart.
I was living a nightmare, like Freddy vs Jason,
**** left my psyche with Knicks and bruises -
Im the new Anthony Mason,
Mfs was movin foul, soon got upgraded to a flagrant,
I was in the cut bumpin Indicud,
I felt like Elmer Fudd cause of the backstabbing i was facing,
I soon got aquainted..with the fragrance, of defeat,
Thought revenge was sweet,
I had **** twisted like a twizzler,
Jealousy is for the weak,
You gotta live with your decision but them emotions are just visitors,
I couldn't stomach it .
My arrangements was far from edible,
I made a mess of the amendments
Im a of a man mess - I got a list of demands...
Im always on a different tune from the rest of the band,
I refuse to just sit and watch but this is more than i can stand,
Life was a beach..
My coral reef was in disbelief - My castles were made of sand.


You gotta learn to appreciate the darkness.
I was too proud to beg your pardon ,
I preferred the isolation - coulded help but be guarded,
Sometimes you gotta take that step back, like Harden,
And sink some of them boats filled with feelins you been harboring,
I was feeling more like Malcom - less like Martin,
My cruise was less controlled, My directives were departed,
***** I been hard to reach & outta touch,
been tryin to get a grip but been stuck in a rut,
I had an underlying desire to be violent.
My treble was to the left, cue the chelo and the violin,
I felt the hate on my skin and my distain was topical,
My blood was boiling but my climate was far from tropical,
It was a wrap for ****** but my plans always got foiled,
I was ready to strike, so like a cobra - I coiled,
I was quick to bite but took mad damage from the recoil,
****** did me *****, i was just sinkin in the soil,
I would stoop to levels with antics that resembled porch monkeys,
Was supposed to be a boss - but was movin like a flunky.
I was Jefe in my head - but was actin like a *****.
Went from optimizing opportunities to wondering where my optimism  went,
Karma had dropkicked me , left my armor with a dent,
I couldn't get through by just hoping - started swingin for the fence,
Nas said "Life's a *****" - Now Im seeing what he meant...

— The End —