Uh...Wierd

The character in the book was a lightning-sparking, speedy little creature. It had no pleasure in just going with the flow—its narrow eyes and lowered head eying its target consumed it. It did not enjoy life’s—or this sand palace’s—pleasures. No, its rigid position, fixated on something before it stole all its attention.    

This creature stared at the sand dune for how knows how long. It ignored the wind’s howl, letting its warmth’s transparency slice right through it. It was born for this—is the season to be ready. Ready for…

Ready. But the creature narrowed its eyes, heading towards it. Its bulletproof, hard head facing it, and—

“Lite, let’s go sledding!”

A voice tore into Lite’s game of winner versus loser. He snarled, returning to bashing into the target over and over again. He had to come up against this thing a victor—he had to show he was in control of his life like this. He had to keep going, proving himself worthy of being the best creature—

“Lite, you can’t win all the time. Besides, just zap it or bang into it, and let’s go.”

“No.”

“Fine!”

Doing this for my own good. Lite banged into it, a headache encasing his head so much he growled at the target. “A headache for you!” It roared. Once Avila bragged in Spanish about her sledding records, Lite turned on her.

“I did the best last time. So that’s not true.” Lite also knew Spanish fluently. They grew up bilingual.

“It is if you don’t join us.”

Lite loved sledding, heading towards the sand dunes and using them to slice through them as hard as he could. Once he was up in the air, he closed his eyes and threw his arms up, sucking in the air and basking in falling down upon his sand sled. Bam! Crashing against the sand again, Lite turned to the other creature. “Yes!”

“That was just exhilaration. You’re not going to—”

Lite made a sled out of electricity. The other creature, a violet lizard-chameleon creature, rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lite. Does it have to be a competition?”

“Yes!”

“You’re so one-dimensional!”

“So? You don’t like flies with huge eyes. They’re delicious!”

“Well, you hate losing. Losing is your weakness. Let it go.”

Lite made an electric sled, it spitting electricity here and there, its electricity jolting like a lizard-chameleon creature twitching when it can’t sit still. He raced off, leaving Avila to ignore his antics. A show-off, her best friend was, but he couldn’t help himself, he claimed. Avila didn’t say anything about this. She just inhaled and then watched for a few seconds and then left, wondering whether Lite was even worth watching.

She didn’t go sledding with him. She rolled her eyes every time he asked whether they wanted to go out for a sand cream cone. She ignored him when he raved about his sledding records. And shrugged her shoulders when he said he’d buy her a scoop of sand cream cone every time she won. “Seriously!” He waved his hands in her face. “Please—you’re awesome enough for this!”

Avila shook her head. And then went up to Lite. “We’ll marry one day. Right?”

Lite laughed. “I know what my future holds—”

“You don’t do anything but sled, trying to win. You’re just a headbanger against the sand dune. It mocks you, knowing you’ll just stop!” She wished he listened. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Whatever!” He screeched. He grabbed his sled of electricity and raced away. When he had come to a halt, he sat there. He wanted Avila to be with him for the rest of his life, and she wanted him, too, but they didn’t see eye to eye. Shaking his head, Lite turned back, avoiding Avila as much as he could. He tried telling her why, but she just ignored him, too!

The day of the wedding, Lite shook his head when standing at the altar to marry Avila. “I can’t!” He projected, yelling to the rest of the gaping audience that Avila and he would marry when they should come together. Gasping, Avila, scared and helpless, grabbed Lite’s hands into her own.

“Please!” When he looked at her, her face radiated desperation. He was the only one out there.

“No.” He dashed out of the place and grabbed his sled of electricity. He didn’t want to marry her—in front of others. Could he elope? That’d be just as if he married in front of others, except he could express his love to her secretly. Then he’d announce it. Everyone would be relieved. They didn’t need a huge ceremony. It’d just be a wedding to celebrate, right?

Avila found him, alone. She cried that they had no one else. Lite didn’t ignore her but he didn’t listen, either. She, eyes rimmed with tears, cried out to him. “Please!”

“Avila, can we just marry in secret? Elope? What’s the difference!”

“I don’t know—everyone will rejoice. Right?”

“I—”

“Don’t you get it? You want others to see your accomplishments, right? Well, you will be seen if you marry me right now. When we go back to the place of marital celebration.” He saw her hand wave him closer to her. “Come on! Please—for us.”

He pursed his lips. “I…”

“Lite, make a decision. The marriage is happening. Let’s go!”

Lite squeezed his eyes shut, never doubting Avila for a second. Sucking in a huge breath, he dashed away from Avila and the wedding. Avila pursued him, and then he lashed out at her, attacking her. She countered with disappearing, never seeing him for many years. When they came back together, he said it was too late. She shook her head. He announced he already found someone else. Outside of this sandy world in which they grew up together. She smirked and let him go.

Every day was a nightmare for Lite. He didn’t want to marry Lize. She was another chameleon-lizard thing that turned invisible and run speedily, but Avila sped faster. Lize was lazy, leaving her belongings everywhere, making him say to clean them up. She was gone all the time, saying she was busy. He never saw her, but Avila showed up. She never did. He told her he wanted to spend time with him. One day, he was excited—she’d spend a day sledding with him!

He grabbed his sled, going on and on about all these fabulous adventures of over the hills and under archways. She nodded, but as the sledding went on, she yawned, nodding limply and then called it a day.

“Mañana?”

“Si!”

They raced each other. But Lise took someone else with her. He enjoyed it. And so did she. Lite watched them love sledding, and then slammed headfirst into a sand dune! After shaking his head, he looked and then stared—it was the very sand dune he growled and leered at for so long! He looked over—Lise and her boyfriend were enjoying each other’s company very much. They threw sand balls at each other, raced each other to the top of the sand dunes and raced each other after the male chameleon-lizard thing ran off to get a sled. Lize laughed out loud. Lite’s mouth was clamped shut.

He went back to Avila. She remembered him. It’d been years but the creatures didn’t really age that much. They were just a couple of days older. Anyway, Avila asked Lite whether he’d—

“You asked me that before, Avila. Stop asking la pregunta misma. Can we just—”

“Lite.”

Avila looked at him. “Am I just someone to love after you bang your head against the sand dune?”

Lite stared at her. But the light of excitement died in his eyes. He didn’t glower at her. She wasn’t just an output after his rage ended. But he said she avoided him to make him see that she was the most important creature out there. As if she needed him, like she was the only one he should have in his life. He couldn’t let go of her. She was too special.

“Selfishness had stolen your love for me!”

Avila didn’t speak. She just took a deep breath and nodded. He looked at her and walked away. They parted ways, he seeing whether she had another chameleon in her life. She did, but announced he was her beloved cousin. He nodded—stiffly. He began whining and desiring to be with her, saying she never spent time with him. She spat in his face, spending all her time with her favorite chameleon-lizard creature. He resented him.

“Who are you?” Avila’s cousin asked Lite. Lite rolled his eyes.

“I’m marrying Avila!”

“You’re turning into her. Besides, I’ve told her she doesn’t need me all the time. She’s coming to that conclusion.”

Lite swallowed. If he married Avila, would she be clingy? Soon, they married.

Avila stayed in touch with her cousin, because he had his siblings to deal with—one was cranky, another was whiny and another was upsetting the family’s tight-knit love for each other. After finding out that his siblings betrayed him, he believed he should end his own life. Those siblings are the only creatures he really had. Avila was special, but his siblings were blood relatives, and no one could replace them. Avila’s cousin considered suicide at one point, but Avila told him he was worth more than just trying to gain the favor of those who didn’t believe in him—letting go of convincing those who didn’t love you to love you wasn’t the best route in which to go. The cousin abhorred sledding. The trails were just reminders of his siblings’ ways. He committed suicide. Avila, wracked with nightmares and screaming into the night, disturbed Lite so much he snapped at her. Losing sleep and cranky, Lite argued immensely and committed to sledding. If Avila came with him, he ignored her, walking away. Avila ignored him whenever she saw him.

They eventually separated, lite taking another path, lite missing out on Avila’s parties and ceremonies of accomplishments. She had a life, too—crafting architectural things to beautify this sandy world. But Lite would not lighten up. He spat—literally—on her pots and pans. He hissed when she invited him to the gardens and greenhouses, excusing himself to go sledding.

That night, he got up and went to her. Shaking Avila awake, Lite waved her into their cave. She went but begrudgingly. Early the next morning, he awoke to her not there. He found her at her cousin’s place. He saw her tears and sobbing. He knew she missed her cousin so dearly. Tears trailed down her face, and he wiped them away. She tore away, claiming she could never live with him again. She stayed with her cousin’s family for a year. Then she returned to their cave.

“You going to disappear every time I awake?”

“I’m going to see how I can—”

“Grieve and then move on.”

“I miss him!”

“That’s not something you just do. But you must—”

“Understand that—”

“I—”

“Can!” They spoke in unison.

She slowly succumbed to letting go of her cousin. He saw her staying with him, and told her to stay with him. She did, succumbing to depression instead of letting him help her. He got mad, saying she—

“Needed time to process the grief. Everyone’s different.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand why everyone has to be so different. Just be like me—”

“No.” She slammed a hand down, and pointed. “No. I’m not. I grieve my cousin’s death like you would me if I died. But you would grieve and then move on just like that. I grieve in my own way.” She went up to Lite. “Stop thinking everything needs to just happen. Lights flicker on immediately, but not everyone’s light comes on as quickly as yours. Stop expecting everyone to just change as quickly. Besides, you haven’t done any quick thinking yourself.”

Lite blinked. “You’re right. I haven’t. But—“

“Just listen, Lite. Be light with others. Don’t be so hard with me!”

“I’m…” Lite sighed, and then retreated somewhere else in the cave. “I just…”

“Let me grieve.”

She was alone, growling that she’d rather be alone than be with anyone. Maybe Lite can be a little lighter with his attitude! She became a recluse, never seeing Lite again for some time. Lite resisted being with her for long. Soon, they grew apart, eventually thinking of separating. They didn’t want others talking about each other, and so ignored others. Soon, others ignored them. They were the only creatures to be in the desert. Everyone had moved on. Customers and tourists came, but the architectural plans came to a screeching halt. Soon, Avila was out of business. She didn’t sell any buildings or host garden parties anymore. She was done.

One day, they decided to move to the city, where other creatures resided. Enough heat!

Lite did light work around the rock cave they had built for themselves. Avila complained she wasn’t being helped enough. Lite didn’t respond, but only bit his lip and strived to ignore the whining. Avila shook her head, continuing but never letting Lite not know his side of the cave—

“That I built for myself!”

“You’ve been selfish from the day we met as infants. You’re too angry.”

“Whatever.” But Lite knew Avila was right. Too right. He needed to vent. But he vented, soon to no one. At his construction job, he was fired for complaining about his home life. At home, he stayed rigid, avoiding Avila and making her feel ignored, small, insignificant, inconvenient and like nothing she did mattered or would matter. He pointed out all she did every day. She fumed and left. They separated for good.

He went back to sledding, alone and happy. She went back to her other life, moving in with her aunt and uncle. Dreams plagued the two creatures, but they awoke as if from nightmares. They vowed never to speak or even see each other again. Lite and Avila had seen each other, spoken to each other and been with each other. Time to move on.

Lite took a huge breath and went into the company for which he spent into the wee hours researching. Sitting at the interviewer’s table, Lite aced the interview, took the job of a janitor and worked his way up to advising manager. One day, when he was being interviewed by a reporter on the news, he was asked how his home life was. He shrugged, smiling sarcastically. The reporter blinked, and turned to the camera. He laughed embarrassedly.

“Well, there you have it, folks. Some creatures laugh, and some creatures cry. We’re all different.” The reporter continued with the burning buildings and splintered trees that caused the traffic jam, and Lite walked off when he had looked around himself, shrugged and continued with his life. He grew frustrated, gripping the broom like his life depended on whether he worked well. It did, because this was the tunnel through he had to crawl to eventually put food on the table. But he hated it. Scrubbing didn’t do anything. And neither did hearing the loud guttural noise of the toilet flushing. The animals didn’t care whether he was sick. They sat on his work, shrugging and leaving.

Avila worked typing for her boss, a secretarial position somewhere in the city. She worked night shifts, day shifts and even weekend shifts. When asked one day by a new employee, she lied, saying she was a manager of an important position. When the employee saw her typing away, she loudly proclaimed Avila was a secretary. She typed at that keyboard, all day and all night. Avila, cheeks burning, justified her work with a written piece of—

“Lies!” The cat hissed before setting her documents down on her cubicle desk. Glaring at the employee, Avila shook her head but then stopped. She typed something and then showed it to her boss. When the elephant squinted and then told her this isn’t what he wanted, Avila grew embarrassed. She rushed out to tell her she didn’t know what she was writing—

“Yeah, and you need to start over. Trash, please!”

Avila threw it away, that night curling up with a bowl of ice cream, tears trailing down her face. She typed a letter to Lite. She didn’t say lighten up or anything else. She just said Lite’s my husband. She tried convincing the employee she was married, but was thrown a piece of paper with Mentirosa! written on it. Her boss fired her. She needed a new job--a job where she could speak to Lite in Spanish during her lunch break. One where she didn’t falsify her own company.

Avila went home. Lite was there. She ran to him, and he to her. “Por favor!” She pleaded in Spanish, and he nodded. He continued lovingly in Spanish, too. They spoke no English now. She felt all faults and problems melt away just by talking to him. And could see a light glimmer in those me-centered eyes of his.

They remained together, forever.

The gardens came back, and the buildings boasted great height. Avila returned to her passion for creativity. Lite came back from work one day, aghast at Avila’s choice to have taken her own life. Staring at the dead creature, he buried her, in the sand outside his home. Crying, he thought of the other creature—Lize. No, she would never be Avila. He sat, knowing he had to let go.

Just like she didn’t.

Didn’t let go of her beloved cousin’s death—

“Wake!”

He shook his head, worrying over her possible suicide. She claimed she had no interest in taking her own life. She was letting go of his death. Her cousin could meet after this life. He smiled.

Okay. I’m not going to change that. And he held her hand, and she put hers on his.

They died—apart from each other. But together forever in the afterlife. 

Her cousin she spent night and day with.

He didn’t try to rip her away from him. He let go of her. And understood.