This Journal Belongs To: Okoro Souza

[Okoro (DELETED 7560)]

01 December 2015



I decided to buy a journal, with the hope that writing all of these strange, new experiences down would help me to better understand.

My mother used to tell me it was the only way to get an answer out of a problem: talking it out, even if that meant to yourself or your bedroom wall. She said it wasn't good to keep feelings or thoughts locked up in your head, that your brain was kind of like a sink drain that water (information) traveled through, along with various other things such as skin, hair and bits of food -- toothpaste. After awhile, it starts to clog up and information gets lost to the sludge, it's no longer pure.

People say that when you meet the love of your life, and you go on your first date, the way you look at the world and the world itself changes. Or, that if meet God, really meet him and/or see his works in some way, that your view on the world changes. I don't know if Clover is either of those things, but she's definitely changed my life in ways that I never thought possible.

She and Nona say I'm normal (whatever normal means anymore -- which, for us, it means something totally different from what I was taught through grade school. In grade school, I was taught that 'normal' was having a good, high-paying job, being a family man -- kids running around and everything -- and living in that big house with the white picket fence. What is it about a white picket fence that makes things seem so perfect for some people? Why is that the epitome of success and having the 'perfect' life? That was never going to be my life, no matter how hard I tried. I realize that now.)

In the last week, I've experienced more pain, more life, more everything than I think I have in my whole time being alive. I'm supposed to be dead now, but somehow -- even with the bad -- I feel more alive.

I met this girl from Fforde (Which, I want to say is a weird way to spell that, but then I think some people probably think my name is weird. Names have power and meaning, which is why our parents pick them out for us. They sometimes can determine who we are and what we do for the rest of our lives. That is not me, but my name is a reminder -- among other, more obvious things -- of my heritage. Of where my mother and father came from and what they had to do to get here, to provide for my brothers and sisters and I.) The girl I met was from online, and I know that sounds weird, but that's a very common way of communication for us, it seems. Her name is Kaelyn and she was very kind. She reminds me of home, of my little sister, Imani, and some part of me feels a little relief in the familiar. She smiles a lot and I like that.

She asked me if I have any powers and I told her that I didn't know. She asked if I had telepathy, which I don't. (I know because I've been desperately trying to talk to Nona for the last five days -- even more so since I learned that telepathy was a power.) Nona can walk on water, and so can Clover. I tried several times, but I ended up swimming instead. The water is too cold, even for me, in this time of the year.

I thought maybe I had powers when I woke up in the ground with no recollection of how I got there. The last thing I remember is being in the fenced off area where the zombies were. Nona and I were fighting them, practicing our aim -- as that's now become important. I never was fond of guns, but they, like many things in this life, are necessary.

Nona was elsewhere, I could hear her sure gunshots firing and I knew she was safe. (I hoped.) When he or she came at me -- when IT came at me -- I was frozen. This didn't look like the other monsters I was used to. There were pustules dotted all over its face and it had large claws. When it walked, there was a hunch and a rapid walk, nothing like the slow shuffle of what I can only call "zombies". (I'll be honest, I haven't watched that many films or read many novels about zombies, vampires and whatever else there might be -- which only leaves me with more questions than answers. In a way, this life is very similar to my old life, as a scientist.) We locked eyes, the monster and I -- and maybe I'm a monster too, maybe it knew that and it was angry. I think I'd be angry if I lived that life, too. Before I could raise my weapon, it was on me and we fell to the floor. It must have been from instinct or fear of death -- which I'm still glad to posses -- but I held its face far from mine with my forearm, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to keep its claws from finding my stomach. I thought it would heal completely, but I still have a scar. I can feel it and I don't understand. It must have been very deep, but I blacked out at the pain or the shock and when I woke up, the smell of wet earth was packed tightly into my nostrils. I was buried under the ground. I don't know if someone did it for me or what exactly happened, but like any "normal" person, I panicked. I was able to dig out and when I finally reached the surface, I retched. I didn't immediately recognize where I was, but I was able to stumble my way to a local gym where I got myself a shower. I couldn't remember where the apartment was that Clover said belonged to Nona and I.

Nona didn't tell me that she could walk on water, but I can only imagine it was this same night that she did it and I feel awful. That must have been something to see and I wasn't there to see it.

Even if I turn out to not have any powers, I'll be happy enough to watch Nona and hers.