ArtWrite 8/21: Philippe Cheng
Updated: Dec 4, 2020
Joely squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for color to come out of the blackness behind her closed lids.
It was a trick she’d figured how to do when she was little, when she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mom would be dealing with Robbie, and if her dad came in, his sharp, dry kiss on the cheek did nothing to help ease her towards sleep.
The first thing she saw were white dots, tiny like the sharp ends of pins, that were as close as the tip of her nose, yet as far away as stars. She squeezed harder, scrunching her face until the stars smashed together and then, finally, there was color. Joely wanted pink, but there was only blue and green, glowing like x-rays before swirling into a kind of fire, with streaks of blue flickering inside flames of green.