Grave Digger

accepting applicrazytions

"Your father has been moved a couple rooms down, right this way" The nurse barked out,  Apparently Sonja would have to talk to a human rather than a corpse.

As the nurse led Sonja a few rooms down, Her eyes fell on 666 and she quickly realized she couldn't just glance into this room. She couldn't logic or science her way around it. This was her father, she had to go in & observe the rotting. She had to make peace. Well what peace there was to be made. The last few months of Sonja's father's life would be spent counting white ceiling tiles, attached to machine that functioned in place of his lungs, and a constant cycle of observing his organs fail then stable out again. It's like he had fought off death until his only child was home from overseas. She had spent years building galaxies between her & him. Space happened to be the foundation her life was built on. It was why at 15 she waited for him to take enough pills to slobber on himself meanwhile burning holes In what was left of his mattress & she abandoned ship. Not a street over, not Florida. An ocean away, Russia; a country she knew nothing of, not the culture or the language. All she had was a history lesson on Siberia, everything froze & died. Hoping the same for spirit, freezing, hypothermia of the soul. It was why she spent every night by herself in a shack miles outside of town. She needed quiet, solitude , & space. Sonja glanced down at the dirty sublime T-shirt, leather shorts and fishnets; as she thought to herself,

"Daddy approved."

The sight of her father as a broken man, it was a beautiful one for her. She didn't feel joy like she feared she might. Rotting away in superman pajamas, sharp blades of grey poking out of his scalp, and tubes running from every available hole. His eyes hurt Sonja. They still had vitality. It was as if she were looking into her own future eyes. A matured shade of grey.

"What's going on man?" Sonja asked failing miserably at casual. Not familiar with the feeling of having a conversation with her dad and having all of the control.

"Same old shit. What's up with ya brat?" He flashed her a set of gums that was meant as a smile. Sonja felt it, even while justifying the indifference towards him in her mind. Tears glazed his eyes.

"You know I love ya" Sat had never had a grip on telling people that phrase, only a handful of times could he remember saying it to say it. Not to con or deceive. Just the raw experience of feeling the emotion. His only daughter. She was gorgeous, everything right about all the wrong that took place to create her.

Once those words arrived at her ears, Sonja felt nothing again. A black hole where that part of her brain once lived, No tears, no choking up. Her mind went right back to being 8 years old on a swing at Oaken park where she spent any occurrence her father had to leave for business.She would swing & slide until she was hungry. Then Sonja would stare at her dirty keds and imagine the shoes that would be on her tiny feet if she were a princess or fucking Aladdin. The stilettos she would wear, her shoes would never be dirty again, she'd have a knight who cleaned every pair for her. Then her dad could quit his job because she was the ruler of the land. After a couple hours of swinging she would pretend she was an archaeologist, restlessly searching the ruins for dinosaur bones, Egyptian goddesses, and old warrior bones. The ruins being neighborhood trash bins. Once Sonja found food, the fun could begin. She would arrange a feast for herself, the warriors and maybe even invite her mom even if she never showed up. It was worth the offer. Sonja's closest friends were chicken bones & pizza boxes.

"Okay kid I know you're upset but ya gotta speak up. I've got dying to get back to and you're slowing this shit down" Sonja heard a familiar agitation in her dad's voice, snapping her out of whatever fantasy she was in, back to the present catering to a bag of flesh who never not one time took the time to lover her properly.