Paper Cuts

A Regular Day

1975; small town, Pauls Valley, Oklahoma, home to a population of 6,000

The creaking of the rocking chair was cringing. Especially since there is extra weight from my body sitting on mama's lap. Shes braiding my hair. The light tugs from each piece of hair getting crossed over the other was so common to me. I almost never wear my hair out of a braid. Mama said that someday she will teach me how to braid my own hair since my arms are so short and my long blond hair is all the way down to my waist.

Mama enjoys these types of things. The simple things. The abstract art that has so much going on yet so beautiful and simple. Sewing, painting, nature. There is never a day when she misinterprets something for not being art. Ive been taught a great lesson in life so far from my 6 years of reality, everyone and everything is art. Everyone and Everything has a meaning. A purpose. A special connection. Whether its mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Its truly a great thing. Realizing that factor in life changes every aspect. And its awesome.

    You can almost find a paintbrush or spools of thread in any room in the house. Mama also likes decorations around the house that represent something. Though Im not too sure on what that something is. Mama has never been a big believer in religion though there are crosses all over the house and different odd ornaments. Im pretty sure theyre just for decoration. I dont like to comment on mamas habits sometimes unless Im truly curious. Then, that curiosity leads me to no good. And nobody likes that no good.

    I look at the clock whilst rocking back and forth in the chair and see that the clock has stopped. While mama ties the braid together from being done and keeps me in her lap while she reaches to the side-table to grab her needle and thread and patch that she was sewing previously, she wraps her arms around my body as I lean back into her arms and we sit there every so slowly rocking and sewing.

I keep my eyes on the clock at all times. I dont understand. Why am I so challenged at this? Why are the clock hands not moving? Does this happen all the time? Is this supposed to happen? Thoughts race around my head as I think as to why its not moving. Not blinking for minutes, puzzled, my eyes start to water and get dry. I finally blink, and I look at the floor, to focus my eyes on something else other that the clock for a second. I glance back at the clock and have to take a double take because I see something odd. The hands on the clock were all moving in the opposite direction than usual. Reverse. Counter-clockwise.

I keep blinking my eyes to see if I was just hallucinating it all. Nothing was changing in each blink, but the last repetitive blink I was gonna take, the hands stopped for five seconds and started back up again in the regular direction. The original direction. Clockwise. I look away trying to convince myself that what just happened didnt really happen and really just simply that I try to forget about it.

Odd things have been happening lately since weve moved into our new house. Strange, strange things. Like my doll or mamas paintbrushes being in the middle of the hallways, or kitchen plates and bowls and cups miraculously falling on the ground and breaking. In the past two months, weve had to buy three new sets of those bowls, cups, and kitchen plates that broke. Its also always so cold in our house. When I mean cold, I mean freezing, Its so weird. Im always wondering why its like a freezer in here but it is just another thing that you dont ask mama about.

Not answering questions and letting you figure out everything on your own is mamas specialty. It can get irritating, but its to the point where youre so used to it now that your natural instinct is to never ask questions.

I was and am not/never that great in school. I always get yelled at by my teacher Mr. Jones, for never asking questions. Which leads to me not getting very good grades. They move so fast on some subjects, its nearly impossible to catch what he says half of the time since hes also such a fast talker. Who needs to ask questions anyway? Not me! I will do perfectly fine in life without those interrogative statements! At least I think so..

Mamas, Angela Brooks, perspective:

Sewing makes me relaxed. Especially when I accidentally stab myself with the needle. In which I did. I sometimes like doing it purposely because its like acupuncture. And I crave acupuncture.

    Alright, Eleanor, mama has to clean up. Get up. Angela says to her daughter.

    The child obeys and gets off my lap. The girl sits on the ground. I walks swiftly to my bedroom. I look at myself in the full-body mirror and realizes that the blood from my wound leaked through my sleeved white dress. Opening the drawer to get a fresh pair of clothing, the wound stings. Though, I realize that the feeling of the burning and soreness wasnt coming from the stab wound that the needle made, and the it felt worse than the little poke. I took her dress off and looked at myself. Cuts. Paper cuts. All over my left arm. I looked at my right. Paper cuts all over that one too.

    Terrified and hurriedly, I grabbed something with sleeves so Eleanor didnt see the bunches of slits to ask questions, and threw it on. Jogging lightly out to the kitchen to make more of casual being of myself since I was in my room for a while, staring curiously at the cuts, I come to an abrupt stop. Eleanor was there.

    Mama, Im hungry! Eleanor complained.

    Okay, honey, Ill make you something in a second. What would you like?

    Mac & cheese!

    I grabbed the box of mac & cheese and the essential pot and spatula/spoon, then went to the stove. As I was making the food, I was very careful, making sure my sleeves didnt ride up my arms.

    5 minutes later

    I grabbed the bowl and spoon, put the macaroni and cheese in it, and laid the bowl and fork in front of the sitting child, Eleanor, at the dining table.

    Thank you, Mama!

    Youre welcome, sweetie. I said sincerely with a smile. I will be right back.

    I walked to the bathroom. When my feet hit the tile flooring, I immediately shut the door. My head looking down at the sink, when I look up at myself in the mirror, with some sort of disgust in my face, I thought to myself. I know something is inside of me. Im scared. Im going to die. I dont wanna die. Though, I know it will come to that.

    My body slams against the wall and slides to the floor. I weep. I sob so hard to where my lungs hurt. I cant believe it. There is something wrong with me. I thought that all these years, I would be fine with my well-being since I follow the rules of life. I enjoy my life. I make sure that my child doesnt ask questions. Everything was perfect. But now, Im gonna die soon. I dont know what it is but, its bad. . .