Muse and Mischief

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Desperate to escape from her ruminating thoughts T265 used her long neglected creative nature to remember her wife last night. However, fantasy forced the barrier with reality to break…

In the near-darkness, the hint of dawn barely peeked through the windows that lined the top of the far wall.

A thick hand clasped to T265’s arm and sent a spasm of terror through her body. 

“Sport,” EmCee whispered.

“Are you serious?” T265 hissed. “It’s not even morning.”

“I wanna show you something,” EmCee tugged at T265 with greater insistence.

“What is so damn important?”

“Promise it’s worth it,” EmCee whispered and disappeared down the ladder.

Curiosity got the better of T265. Sleeping on the fourth level for a year, she knew better than to look down when she clutched the ladder. 

Apparently, vertigo was stronger in the early morning hours. On the ground, EmCee put a finger to her lips and walked towards the back of the floor. They slipped between the snores and rustles of the others clinging to the last thirty minutes of rest, until they reached the stairwell door. Inside, the dim fluorescent light shimmered off EmCee’s head when, to T265’s surprise, she led her up.

“Where are—”

EmCee shushed her and didn’t utter another word until they travelled up and stopped at a thick, green door. EmCee tapped four keys into the pad above the door handle and the mechanical lock whirred. Thick, sticky morning air forced itself upon them as they stepped onto the roof.

The halo of light along the horizon lived up to EmCee’s promise. The world through the razor wire, beyond the camp’s walls looked so amazing in the burgeoning dawn. Robust trees that lined the walkway of the administration building swayed in the breeze below, while the lifeless walls of another camp loomed beyond them.

“What’s that?” T265 asked and took a deep breath; she swore the air tasted like freedom.

“Women’s camp, where we should be,” EmCee answered and stepped further onto the roof until she neared the edge.

“Why are we here?”

EmCee pulled a small notebook from her pocket with a pen. “Might could take in the sunrise if you wanted.”

T265 approached her. “Won’t we get in trouble?”

“We have to get caught first.” EmCee held out the notebook and beat-up pen.

T265 accepted them and inspected the teeth marks at the end of the pen. “What’s this?”

“Think CO Calderon has a nervous habit and an oral fixation,” EmCee answered and smirked. “Well, I can only confirm the oral fixation.”

“What do you expect me to do with these?”

“The girls and I thought you could put them to better use,” EmCee answered and returned to the horizon with a smile. “Sir did say you had the hunger.”

“Hunger?”

EmCee cocked her head and scoffed. “You a writer, so write.”

T265 stood there, dumbfounded by the foreign concept that was once as vital as breathing. Her fingers hadn’t moved like that in years, let alone her mind. That was left behind, like everything else. 

She shook her head and set the notebook on the ledge, but her right hand refused to relinquish the pen. The strength of the sun remained a forethought as the yellow meniscus just began to push its way into the blue sky. 

Her fingertip ran along the indentations in the plastic tip of the ballpoint pen. There was a beauty in it. The pen. The infant sunshine. Together, they had the inkling of something more. 

More than a tickle of the mind, it was a memory of what could be, or of what was.

Something coiled within her chest. She scoured the horizon for an answer to a question no one ever asked, yet she always wondered. Her fingers wrapped around the pen as it searched for its partner to create something so ecstatic it should be a crime. 

Emotions surged in her as they became letters that became words. They jumbled and tussled around until the monkeys in her mind hammered out fucking Shakespeare. 

Compulsion demanded she snatch the notebook from the ledge with sheer voracity. Frenetic scribbles formed words and stanzas as she poured her blood onto the page. Passion erupted past the fear of what Pandora had unleashed in that early morning light. 

The pen vibrated across the page until her hand fell, to the side, spent.

The golden sun crested into existence to once again wash its orange glow over the edges of the camp’s walls. EmCee sauntered over with her hand extended. 

With the care of a parent introducing their child to the world, T265 handed her the notebook. EmCee nodded to the rhythm of the words and handed the notebook back with a smile.

“Welcome to Stonewall,” she whispered and made her way back to the door.