Terminal 81 | Teen Ink

Terminal 81

April 23, 2024
By Chaos_Quynn PLATINUM, Cold Spring, Minnesota
Chaos_Quynn PLATINUM, Cold Spring, Minnesota
20 articles 3 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“The future is bulletproof, the aftermath is secondary. It's time to do it now and do it loud." - Dr. Death-Defying


I always carry an umbrella

I hold it low over my head, keeping out the torrent from above

Nothing can get through


I can see through my umbrella

It’s transparency lets me gaze at what I don’t let through

Sometimes it hurts my eyes


It rains everywhere I go

But I usually linger at the old bus stop

No busses ever come through


It’s quiet at the bus stop

Sometimes I can feel people pass by, their eyes glowing through the veil between us

They never say a word


Sometimes, I hold my hand out

Bubbles fall like empty rain, light upon my fingertips

I let them stay


A girl often stands next to me

Her yellow eyes are all I can see, the rest of her stuck on the other side

We never say a word

 

I don’t talk to the people

I’m afraid that if I try, the shadows won’t take it very well

That’s what I call them now


I wonder if they get wet

The rain barely ever lets up, and they don’t have umbrellas like me

It’s only logical they would


One time, I heard music from afar

It was a soft melody coming from the apartment building across the street

None of the lights are ever on


Sometimes, I get tired of standing

But I’m afraid if I sit by a shadow, they won’t take it very well

So I keep still


No one ever touches me

I think the shadows are a little scared of my umbrella

They don’t come near


I never look at the shadows for long

Most of them move too quickly, boarding their invisible busses

I wonder what’s beyond the stop?


I can see down the street

Both left and right are covered in fog, the road fading to grey too soon to see

I wonder what's beyond the fog?


I never follow a shadow into the road

What if a car comes and splatters me to bits?

No cars ever come though


I wish I could see the busses

Sometimes, I really want to leave this old bus stop

It’s cold here


It’s been a long time

I can’t remember what warm feels like, and I've forgotten the sound of my voice

But I keep waiting


I wish the rain would stop

I’m just happy I have my trustworthy, protective umbrella

Even though the shadows don't like it


I like my umbrella

It keeps everything out

It’s too late to let anything in


The author's comments:

This was written as an experiment with keeping stanzas the same length, which was a challenge. It is about the experiences I’ve had being othered by peers.


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