1. Daniel Miess
AdvancedShortStoryWorkshop
Essay # 3
ProfessorBryanPartridge
4/23/16
The Breaking of the Cocoon
Little Anastasia. She swims,encompassedbyme. Daydreams. Nightdreams. Herdreamsare
mine. She ismy dreamchild. Blue eyes? Blond? Like herdad? Will hersmile be aray of light?
I sawher sonogramthe otherday. That’swhenI knew she wasa she. She.
She breathesinmydreams. She is mysummer. Beamsof lightagainsthersunof hair. I know.
Justlike herdad. I will lookinhereyesandswiminthem. Like the oceanwhichdancedalongthe
Hawaiianshores – justa hundredyardsaway fromour beachshack where we spentourhoneymoon.
I hearhervoice. As if she’senteredintomylifelikeafairy-tale. Maybe,she issome butterflythat
has takenhumanform. Maybe, she isreallya mermaidthatswimsaroundinmy belly. My bellyfeels
like anocean. Maybe she’stryingtofinda shore.
*****
I glance outfromthe turretthat standshighabove the city. My two eyespierce the nightskywith
my lookingglass.
Isit true? Isa the GreenPlanetandthe Moon dance together. Cometstrace patterns around
pregnantpurple skies.
Thiscityspreads out like anoctopus,itseightarmsreach out intodifferentdirectionsupthe
hillsides. Inthe centerof our city are two temples. Brickbybrick,theywere builtbackwhenourworld
was young.
The Temple of Peace isnowderelict. Few priestsspreadtheirofferingsof grainbefore the being of
love. Itseemslike the gods aren’tspeaking. Orelse we aren’tlistening.
She seemslike amemory. Anoldwomandressedinwhite. Iwasbroughtto her as a child. She
blessedme andkissedmyforehead. Butthatwas a longtime ago now.

2. FacingTemple of Peace isthe Temple of Blood. Atthe backof the sanctuary standsMaragesh,the
God of War. Bloodhas stainedthe tilesaroundhisaltar. Ourtalessay thathe once was a living
monster. He demandedthatbloodbe pouredouton hisaltar inorderfor our landto have another
harvest. Hiscrueltyhas nowusurpedthe love of ouroldgods. A mountainof bonesisat the back of the
Temple -- sohighthat itblocksout our sun.
Ourcity isdottedwithblue-stone pyramids. Eachwithstepsreachingupto a peakedtop. There
our ancestorswatchedthe stars. The oldonesmappedoutthe constellations. The patternsformedthe
wordsof our prophecies. Butfewwatchthe heavensnow.
The sage’swordsspokenlongechostill echoinmyears. Words forgotten. The oldrites formost
are justa re-enactment. Most priestsandsagesholdtheirpositionsasafragmentof the past.
The new waysare writteninblood. Butthere ishope.
There are cracks in the Temple of Blood. Pillarscrumble. Vinesclimb. Greenshootsnow pierce the
stone. Flowersbloom oneithersideof the tendrils. Clematisblossomsopenwide like manyeyes. Eyes
that opento watcha newbeginning.
I hope Iwill see the dayshe comes. While herfuture iscertain,mine isnot. Thisgray veil cloudsmy
eyes. Istart to only see darkness.
Everyday,my bodyeatsitself alittle more. Waywardcellsbecome legion. Mybodyis a microcosm
of the war that mycountry hasfaced.
Eventhere,athinglimmerof lightbreathesinmyheart. Hope.
I wrapmyself ina shawl of prayer. I lighta candle earlyinthe morningandhave a cup of tea. The
bitternessof itwrapsaroundmy tongue.
Ithelpsto ease the cancermy doctors sayas I glance on the pagesof our holybook. The characters
on the page hum to me. The ancientsspeakwithme inaholycommunion.
*****
Hertinybodybreathesina clear cocoon. A machine pumpsairintoher lungs. Herskinis like athin
sheetof paper. I see veinsthroughherskin. Hereyesare closed. She’ssleeping.

3. Tubesandwireswraparound herto keepheralive. If onlythe warmthinme couldkeepherwarm.
Now,the incubatormust.
Doesshe feel cold? Doesshe knowI loveher?
Thislittle beingcouldfitintothe palmof myhand. I wishI couldholdher. Thingsthat are small can
break. For now,I justsit beside herandlook.
The doctor isdue to performsurgeryonher tomorrow. Eventhen,it’sonlya small hope. A little
lightpiercingadark cloudof uncertainty.
Herwingscannot fly. She istrappedbythe weightof the earth. I can onlyhope forthisclear
cocoon aroundherto peel awayand that mychildwill make herfirststep. That’sall I have. Hope.
Hope sometimesfeelslike wishful thinking.
I hope andyet,I prepare forwhat couldhappen.
Life anddeathalmosttouch. Her two tinyfeetstraddle the divide. Tothink,a machine hasplaced
artificial fingersonone feettokeepheralive. Justbarely.
I’mafraidthat she will live andIam afraidshe will die. If she lives,she mayforeverbe surrounded
foreverbyan eddyof wires. Orif she dies,it will meanthatall myhusband andI have hopedfor will be
nothing.
*****
My bodyaches. In my limbsIfeel atorment. ThisthinpainI feel inmyjoints. It achesthrough
everycell. Everyfiber. If Imove mybody it cracks and my musclescramp.
I breathe inthe smoke of hashish. It’saboutthe onlythingthat numbsmypain.It numbsmypain,
but italsonumbsmy mind. I am not sure I like the wayit feels.
The air thisnightiscold. The cloudsare cold. The people thatwindthe hard,brick-linedstreetsare
cold. I cannot make myself warm.
The vowsI have takentell me thatI cannot be warm. The bedof a companionis taboo. Prayer
cannot holdyouat night. But, it’sprayerI holdon to. The prayerbeadsdangle inmyhands.”
I chantthese words,repeatingthem. “Adoosh,Vinah! Mahalamasari!” “Holyones,Heal Me!
Come,OhLight!” The mantra buzzesoff mylips. I feel anelectricity.

4. Theysaythat the godslisten. Doesshe? Iknow my time iscomingwhen Iwill crossoverthe dark
watersand reachthe realmof light. I feel mylife leavingme daybyday.
The acolyteshave come to bathe me. I can barelymove. Isipslowly some weaksoup. It’sall Ican
eat. My lipsfeel dry. Chapped. Like the airthatfiltersthroughmylungs.
I look up at the sky. It is as black as a raven’sfeather. The lightof the sun wasdarkenedtoday. Our
mooncoveredherlike agarmentcoveringa beautiful maiden. Iam reluctantto sleep,butImust. I
wonderif I will floatonadream cloudandreach intothe Universal thatbreathesinmyheart.
I realize myeyelidsare shut andopenthem. How longhave I beenasleep? Iamuncertain. There
inmy darknessIsee that light. A lightthat I have beendreamingof butthoughtI’dneversee. Myeyes
reach throughthe windowand pull apartthe drapes. There,one ray of lightbreaksthroughthe gray
shroud.
A figure movestowardme, a luminescentbeing. A face glowinglaysalilybymybedside. Herface
issmiling.
“You came!”I say to the youngone at last.
“So,I did!” A hand tenderlygrabsmyownthentouchesthe side of myface. “You saw me at least,
child. It’sbeena longtime since we saweachotherlast.”
“Will theyknowwhoyouwere?”
“It doesnotmatterwho I wasthen,whatmattersis whoI will be – I will be peace.”
*****
My little angel couldn’thandleanothersurgery. Iknew thatif she continuedtostayinthat barely
alive state, she wouldsuffer. Topull the plugwas merciful. Itwasa lovingact. Holdingonto herwas
selfish. Herbodywas meantto take inthe clear,cool breathof morning -- not a machine that gasps,
attachedto a prisoner.
Still,Iambroken. I exchangedherbrokennessformyown. My heartis inpieces – fragmentsof a
clay vase thatcannot be mended. Isacrifice myownemotion. All those dreamsIhadof seeingher
walk,of hearingherfirstword,of her firstday inschool – theyhave evaporatedone byone. All Iam left
withisemptiness.

5. She lovesme back. That is mysolace inthe darkness. Inthe middle of mynight,Ifindcandles
lightingmypath.
It was yesterday. Ifeltthe cocoonbreakopeninmy hands. I saw herlittle wingsflying towardsthe
light. I knowinthat lightshe breathesandshe speaks. Thatis myonlycomfort.
“I love you!”Iwhisperedintohertinyear asthe tide waspulledintothe sea. Tearsfell downthe
sidesof mycheek.
I’ve beenfightingforher. My bloodiedfistsmetdeath. Butlife was notlife. Onlydeathwaskind.
ThenI heardthe flapof her feathers. Herwingsbeatacrossthe windseekingrestonthe distantmoon. I
knewthenthatshe was gone.
Gone.
I hope Ineverforgetherface. I holdher photoinmy handstryingto keepherface embroidered
intothe fabric of my mind. Herlittle nose. Those tiny eyes. Ikissherin mydreams and touch her
gentle skin.
Outside mywindow Ihearthe voice of birds. All aroundme I know herspiritbreathes. The winged
onessingforher, speakforher.
“Mommy!”is heardon the wind.
Inthe raysof the sun I findhergoldenhair. AtlastI feel warm. I scan the jeweledexpanse. Ilook
up. Is she there? Yes,butshe’salsohere – as I put my handtowardmy heart.
My little puppylicksmyexposedtoe. Ifeel the softwetcaress. Iam remindedof myhumanity.
Little Chinaremindsme of the light. The lightwhichopensthe seed. The love whichmakesthings
green.
I smile atherblackcoal eyes. Herface smiles. Ismile. Smilesare infrequentthesedaysI admit. A
rare joyemergesfromgrief. Ihurtbecause of love. But love wrapsaroundmyheart like ablanket.
The tearsliningmyeyesare bothtears of sorrow andjoy. Sorrow and joyare twosidesof the same
face. There cannot be one withoutthe other. Theydance around me.
*****

6. We heara crack of thunder. Somethingthatcomesdeepinsidethe earth. Somethingdeepinside
us.
No more!
Swordsmeltinthe hand. I see the mistrise fromthe warriors’ fists. Hate meltsinthe heartand the
mouth. The bluebirdssing. Theysing incantationsof sweetmagical joy. A joylongforgotten. It’s
somethinghownature breaksdownwalls. Wallswithinourheartsandwallsbetweenourownheart
and those of others.
Springishere. Petalsopen. Ican smell the luxuriousscentof roses.
Love hascome.
The monster’seyesfall outof his sockets. Stone cracksaroundhisfearsome face. The statue of
Maragesh breaksintomanypieces. Hissharpteethfall downlike iciclesandshatteronthe stone floor.
The lightbeingfloatsacrossthe redsandstone floor. The Temple of Blood fragmentsbehindher.
She isthe embodimentof peace. Living,breathingpeace. Barrennessturnsintolife. A forestof trees
risesupfrom hertiny footsteps.
We see the youngone walktowardus. She,the light-being,walksdownpastthe blood-soaked
priests– touchingeachof theirhandsinnocently. A smile creepsacrossherface. She knowsnofear.
There isno fearin love.
It’s a newday. Afterdarknesscomeslight. The stormcloudsmustbreakat leastonce. The sun
sendsdownfingers –touchingthe groundwarmly.
The one we have beenwaitingformakesherwaytowardthe crowd. She holdsinher handa little
wand. Anastasiaisa name foreigntoour tongues.
She doesn’tcome inmarchinglike apowerful queen. Instead,she clothesherself insimplicity. Love
radiatesfromhereyes.
Fora momentshe rememberssomething. A distantvoice. Mother. The otherworldseemslike a
dream. No more pain. The distantbeepsare justanecho foragain life stirs againinhermother’s
womb.The sage is an embryoforminginthe absence. He will be bornnine monthsfromnow. Her
mother’sgrief won’tbe sobitter. A comethas signaledhisarrival.

7. Hertendervoice echoesoutintothe crowd. She is bathedinsplendor. Lightpaintsabrightstripe
across herskin. Her bodyis made of love – love of mother– love of child – love of the people.
Yes, that’sthe truth. We knowit. Nothingstaysdeadforever. Fromthe corpse of painisborn a new
beginning. Thatnewbeginningisthe childwalkingtowardus. Bornfrom the breaking. Bornlike a
butterflybreakingfromacocoon.