Requiem Of The Split

Celeste was at her desk, about to doze off.

The lecturer was talking about Thomas Hardy and John Keats. She knew nothing of poetry except for their names.

"Who was the person who broke off the yoke of slavery?"

Celeste looked at her lecturer.

She had no idea, but she would never admit it.

"Excuse me, what does that have to do with poetry?"

One of her classmates raised his hand to ask.

"Five hundred dollars and twenty cents! Sold!"

The cage was open, and the lioness pounced.

She had been to the circus, and she was not ever going to return. On all fours, she sprinted off into the center of the jungle.

Moss green weeds and leafy trees gave her the shade she needed. The trees stretched up so high that she could not see the leaves. All she saw was a blur of movement, here and there. A toad hopped by, croaking incessantly.

The lioness swiped at the toad. The toad was fat and moist, and the lioness would not have a slimy creature like the toad in the kingdom.

Celeste's body hunched forwards, and the pencil in her hands slipped out of her grasp.

The pencil clattered to the ground.

A kaleidoscope of colors shot through the prism on the glass floor. The room twisted sideways and upside down. Celeste fell through the glass as a trapdoor from underneath her feet gave way.

Celeste screamed as a rushing sound roared through her eardrums, traveling through her toes and resounding all around.

As she fell, Celeste wondered why the magic carpet was not talking. She pressed her hands together, stretching them to push against the carpet. The carpet resisted, its tassels jingling and sprinkling gold glitter all over her.

Oh, but there was a person on the carpet.

"It's rude to talk to carpets!" Keats recited the first line of his poem.

A storm broke out overhead, and Celeste looked down to see a pool of water below her. She could see the bottom of the lake through the translucent water, and she saw slabs of stone. Celeste tried to scream, but her throat was blocked.

"It's rude for you'll end up on the pavement!"

Her head snapped up to see the boy she caught in the girls' bathroom finishing the poem.

His smooth hair looked too good to be real. Like one of those commercials on the telly, Keats was untouchable. He looked a bit like a lamb, with the curls on his perfectly shaped head. Only his head was an egg, and he was about to be cracked.

The yolks smashed headfirst into Keats' body. Fanny, nowhere to be seen. Keats lifted the patchwork notebook over his head. It was too small to cover his body.

He danced through the rain. It was raining cats and dogs, and the rotting smell of eggs blended in with his white chemise and his brown trousers.

Soaking wet, Keats arrived at Fanny's house.

Fanny opened the door and slapped him for being late. She embraced him for showing up. He led her past her husband's room and turned the door handle without a sound.

Celeste snuck a glance through the keyhole. She landed on a grassy bank in a heap of limbs.

The caterpillar climbed onto her knee. The nametag on the caterpillar read 'Belle Morte.' Belle was beautiful, indeed. She saw the pale flush of Celeste's cheeks. She saw the monochromatic shades of Celeste's skin, and she decided to give Celeste a gift.

Belle flew up and off from Celeste's knee.

Celeste was blue now, and every part of her skin had turned fluorescent, a kind of bright highlighter-esque blue.

"I'll give you two wishes. Not three, because three is too much."

The caterpillar switched into the Cheshire cat. The cat's tail swished back and forth. With bobbing of the head, the cat grinned.

Celeste took two steps back, but the cat followed her. The cat purred, wrapping its body around her legs. They were the same color, and the cat liked the color blue.

Blue mushrooms, blue queens, and blue bodies.

"World peace!"

All of the men threw their fists in the air as the soldiers marched on. They repeated their words over and over. A mantra became a motif, and Celeste watched the movie's end credits, again and again. The sailor and the nurse kissed passionately, but his lips turned blue, and she fainted right after their kiss.

They brought the nurse to the hospital, and the soldier returned to his base.

The ending was a good one, but she couldn't remember why. The end was right, at least until the next battle.

She was momentarily fascinated by the brown swirls etched into the wooden surface of her desk. They were healthy, as healthy as swirls could be.

The swirls enlargened and dwindled in a calming cycle. Celeste felt her breathing slow, and her eyelids drooped. She watched the hands of the clock moving two by two, like the animals in Noah's ark.

"My final wish? I want the whole world in my hands." She smiled, her cloud nine expressions at their limit.

"That, you can have." The cat grinned once more.

The swirls did not stop spinning, and the music began to play. Strings. Cellos. Concerto. Pianissimo. Fortissimo.

The maestro tapped on his music stand to get everyone's attention. It was time for the show to begin.

Flamenco. The woman came out in a flaming red dress and her partner with a rose in his teeth.

Why did she have to come out in a dress? Why roses?

The next woman also came out dancing. But she was not wearing a dress. Pearls covered her breasts, her arms, and her crotch.

Chacha. Waltzing Matilda. Salsa. The finale was a secret to be opened by the high society.

Every pair came out dancing, wilder than the one before them until the standing ovation.

The audience clapped their hands as each woman came onto the stage. They were all receiving their degree certificates. Each woman represented their country and each, a different department.

Celeste walked onwards, with a lantern propped against her hip and with a trickle of blue blood skimming the grass beneath her feet.

The glass cracked, and the swirls did not stop spinning.