top of page

black is the new black

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Lights flash and sirens scream as they go whizzing by me; a blast of manufactured wind hits my face. I sigh, knowing that some situation is better now. The heroes have arrived, the victims are now safe, and the criminals are apprehended. I’ve had those dreams since childhood: the ones where I see a crime and I’m forced to call 911, but my hands won’t move. 911. 911. People moving, lights flashing, save me.

​

switch

 

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Heart pounding, hands sweating, what did I do wrong? Cell phone video on, text messages sent, please just let me go. I shake, knowing that after this moment it’s my word against yours. The officer walks up, hand on hip, expecting confrontation. Words mean nothing anymore, senses are all that remain. Cuffs, cold and tight, restrain me, my hands won’t move. Yelling, shoving, white walls, save me.

THE STORY
bottom of page