New Year’s Eve
The last night of its kind—a micro tale
“Wait for the white moon.”
The cursive neon lettering on my headboard flickers at me, an anchor to my disarrayed thoughts. They had it custom-made for my 29th birthday.
My friends dragged me to a psychic the year before. She’d helped all three of them find the person of their dreams, leading to joint bridal showers.
I spooked her instead.
The devil nestled between two blank cards—a perplexing trio, never detected before. Tossing the deck, she asked me to leave, her voice barely a scratch.
As I staggered backward, she seized my arm and uttered those five words.
As the clock ticks towards midnight, I trace the key under my pillow.
Light footsteps, strappy heels in hand, and shallow breaths. I’m out of my flat, bolting the door shut, in under 15 minutes.
Just like I’d timed it.
The moon is nearly fluorescent tonight, making shadows shrink, except the ones in my heart. I flinch at every out-of-place line, my courage crumpling from every reflective surface. I slam my car’s door hard and adjust the seat.
I miss driving with the wind messing up my hair.
Fireworks, cheers, and sloshing drinks beckon me inside the square.
I am one with the crowd, blending, disappearing.
No one knows who I am or cares about my being. Phones angled on sticks, shifting glittery fabrics, and synchronized billboards occupy my periphery.
I engrave every pixel to memory, my head woozy from spinning in circles.
For 45 minutes, it feels like everything is alright with the world. That we can stand with each other, forgetting all the darkness, aches, and injustice.
A new beginning waits on the other side, its plan set in motion two years ago. Tomorrow I’m somewhere else, someone else.
The countdown starts, and I walk away.
Previously published with Dead or Alive (Medium, December 2023).Author’s Notes:
I remember hating this story when I wrote it. Fun fact: I stitched three vague drafts together, frustrated at my idea pile. Over time, however, and maybe to no one’s surprise but my own, it became something special.
Something spectacular. Something indelible. A corner. A turning point.
Even now, exactly two years later, I anticipated a tsunami of criticism. But it made me smile instead. Reminisce. And I only made a few cosmetic changes.
Happy New Year to everyone reading this (as well as to those who aren’t here because they have a life or something like that), and may we keep hitting that publish button, because you never know what’s waiting on the other side.
Sounds like a strategy for the new year. Dig out all the good stuff we’ve and make a few cosmetic changes! Not too many, of course.🥒 I wish you a very happy new year!
"The cursive neon lettering on my headboard flickers at me, an anchor to my disarrayed thoughts."
I am letting your creativity simmer in my brain. Heart emoji.