While We Fall Apart: Fictional Shorts

You know how you wake up sometimes and there are all of these little squeaking sounds in your ears? It may sound like a low buzz or a chirping, or maybe a slight rustling from footsteps. Neither do I, but you would think we would with all of the little critters living inside of us. I didn't use know about them. I thought I was on my own. Until one day when they really shook me. — I was walking, just jaunting around Long Beach like I always did on Saturday mornings, when the world started spinning. I put my arms out to try to steady myself but to no avail. I had to sit. Sit right down in the middle of the street, on Atlantic Avenue, and get my bearings. There was a rapid sense of unsteadiness inside my chest and I had to close my eyes for a bit. A passerby, an oldish lady, I think, tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was okay. I don’t know, I said. Just give me a minute. Well, you’re in the middle of the street so maybe I should give you a minute on the sidewalk instead.  That

Johnny was trying to write but her fingers were stuck in the deep past and her mind had found it's way wandering into the future. She couldn't decide whether future events would occur, and therefore she often times found herself wallowing in what had been, trying to put it in nice little satin boxes so that she could sort it out and put it away for good. She uncrossed her legs and straightened her posture. ~ We all want to move forward. We all want to breath in that fresh air, suck it in and swirl it around in our lungs, becoming young again, but brushing off the dust that has settled, hopefully undoing the wrongs that had been done. Fresh once more. Naive once more.  ~ Johnny, short for Johannesburg, a name given to her by her father who had once fallen in love with the South African city, was lost in 2002, the year that had stolen her innocence. She'd moved on, or at least it looked as such to all who passed her by--she was rich in material goods--but she knew things to b