You will find me in the business of New York city (NYC) with my black braids falling onto my back for comfort and body skinny as a dip. It’s the first time in twenty-three years that I have moved from my country of birth to live on my own and I’m loving every bit of it. My name is Auseni Dharamovic and New York city gives significant aesthetic pleasure.
The city that never sleeps has a new number, clothed in caramel skin, an artist at heart and writer in reality. There are some days I still feel like a wildflower in a field of roses and thorns. Is it my speech? The way I act? Or the fact that I cannot roll my tongue to speak like an American? I stop in my track, once in thoughts to grasp the conclusion that I am different. Like how on some days, my smile ranges from 50 percent to hundred percent and others 1 percent to a hundred percent.
Here stands an hour-glass vase full of imaginations and wild thoughts, a graduate of Mass Communication, a sweetheart that plays a beautiful tune to writing and a mind that shuffles between times in seconds. “Excuse me, is there anything you want me to help you with”? the young lady approaches me with an enormous smile pinned to her face.
“Yes… yes please. Can you point me in the direction of the humanities building? It is where my dreams are being fulfilled.” Her mouth is open enough for a fly to walk into and head tightly as a nut majestically. Before, she literally pulls herself together and shows me the way to the Humanities building. Despite, what you may see, my inside is doing an infinite number of jumps, swirling with joy for what is yet to come, a profound opportunity and a technical experience of everything I live for ‘Creative Writing.’
This much is true but it will not be complete if this next part is not written. There are two people that I know, who are so in love. Though, they are dealing with their relationship problems. Three of us decide to scale our high school’s fence without anyone knowing and only I fail miserably because of my fear “Acrophobia”. My male friend, ‘Kent’ helps me get down from the fence. Anyways, we take his car parked few miles away from the school area to see his girlfriend’s family, which is anything but sane.
The father welcomes us with a gun shot in the air while the mother is caring and warm-hearted. Aisha, Kent’s girlfriend walks away from the sad scene into the forest inches away from her home and I am exhausted.
Kent and I walk into the archaic apartment, where we meet Aisha’s brother taking permission from their Dad to follow us to a camp. “I had no clue we were going to a camp from this place”, I think within myself. The father is furious that Matts wants to leave too. So, he shouts at the top his voice, “the world wants you too?”
Alicia shows up and we leave. This time around, Matts is driving and as though in a trance, I see us crashing and only Aisha dies. Frightened et al, I persuade Kent to take the wheels back. In front of us, is a crowd of rioters holding up sticks of light in their hands. Momentously, Kent swerves to the opposite direction and we get to a safe haven.
I leave them both behind including Matts and head on to the slippery, glass-like, blue, red and yellow stairway. At the top are people who welcome you with the warmest smiles. They hand you a key pod and key with your names on it. When we got to our side of the stairway, there were only three key pods and keys. With an assumption that there must have been some kind of mistake considering we were four, I took mine. Matts came in next then Aisha.
We waited for Kent, my best friend and childhood friend. But, he did not show up. I wept aloud knowing fully well what I had done and how I did it? I have no clue. Somehow, I switched Alicia’s fate with his. That is when I woke up and realized it was a façade. And I prayed about it because God makes everything better.
Photo Credit: Pixabay.