The Origin of Lost People | A. Williams
1. In the beginning, a young boy slept on a cloud of tissue in a sterile
white-walled room, nasals stuffed, mouth open, chest heaving.
2. He dreamed of magnificence. Creation unfurled from His reeling scalp
like a screen capturing movement from a projector and fell, one by one,
into white a limping woman spawned from a rib, scaly collections
of gills and eyes washed up in blue foam and salt, chambers of pink tissue
enclosed in fur, and clouds. 3. He shifted His feet, and the room and the chaos
shook while the rest of us rose up in hunger in pure nature of being deprived
of purpose and hurricane. 4. He sneezed gusts of wind against snarling teeth
and wandering bullets and dreamt through our rumble and hands and hands
desperately on His fingers Where are you? We see the ripple of waves
from the twitch of your feet sunk deep in stuffiness and ache of unknowing?
A. Williams has appeared extensively in Elan Literary Magazine and has received Gold Key for poetry and creative nonfiction in the Scholastic Art & Writing Competition. She is currently a student of literary fiction and poetry at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts.