Participants:
| Scene Title | Circle |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's what you don't see that kills you. |
| Date | December 29, 2020 |
One Sony portable CD player; gunmetal gray. Approved.
One pair of over-ear headphones, yellow foam padding. Approved.
One burned compact disc; “Eve’s Best Art Mix to Chill and Relax To” indicated in Sharpie marker. Approved.
One box turtle, therapy animal; Provisionally approved.
Marijuana; one ounce. Declined.
Four out of five ain’t bad.
Rikers Island Prison
Rikers Island, NYC Safe Zone
December 29th
6:13 pm
Shuffling over to a long table, turtle in hand, Eve Mas sits down in the otherwise unoccupied arts and crafts room in her wing of the prison. A large stack of cheap paper is set out in front of her, along with charcoal sticks and paper for smudging. No pencils, no pens, nothing that could hold an edge.
Setting the turtle down beside herself, Eve settles in and untucks her CD player from the front pouch of her prison-issue hoodie. The CD player is set down on the table, headphones plugged in and tucked over her ears, holding down her unkempt mane of dark hair. Staring down at the paper, Eve is silent and still for a long time. It isn’t until she picks up the charcoal and just starts to scribble on the paper that she seems to come alive.
Something had been troubling Eve for a while now. Something gnawing at the back of her mind, an intrusive thought. She sleeps — dreams — but not like before. Not since the day she died, but even that didn’t feel like her usual dreams. It didn’t have the metaphorical quality. It felt real, felt vivid, felt more like something she was being shown rather than something she was seeing.
Wringing her hands together, Eve crumples up the first sheet of paper and sets it aside. She starts on another, thinking back to the dream of death before waking up alive in another person’s body. There was something between the margins of that moment, something that came in a flash between the terror of the Entity in Adam’s body and the morgue.
A flash.
A glimpse.
Closing her eyes, Eve tries to recall what that was. Something burned into the back of her eyes. Like an after-image from staring at the sun too long. Her hand follows motions her eyes can’t see. The music finally kicks in, the rough sound of something mechanical, guitar. A voice.
Give me the dust of my father
Eve’s hand moves in sweeping arcs, tracing a pattern in the paper. Her brows furrow together, but when she opens her eyes its just shapes. It’s just nothing.
Stand on the face of the ancients
Eve casts her eyes up to the ceiling, grabs the paper and grabs the drawing, crumpling it up and throwing it aside. She reaches back down and starts drawing again, trying to find that elusive image hidden between the margins of memory. The thing she’d forgotten.
Bare the secret flesh of time itself
She remembers the first time she heard this song, two years before the bomb, sitting in her room and staring up at the ceiling. Smoke twisting above her. She remembers how it made her feel, remembers the voices of her mother and father.
Follow me (follow me)
Eve’s jaw clenches, fingers working charcoal as she starts to make another shape. Sketching, seeing without seeing.
I've come so far I’m behind again
Eve bears down with the charcoal, stark lines, sharp sketches. It comes back, clear this time, whatever she’s drawing is starting to take shape.
Follow me (follow me)
When she opens her eyes again, she sees a tableau. A man in a long jacket laid on his stomach, shot in the back. There is blood pooling out beneath him. There is a cane nearby. That fucking cane, its eyes are open.
Wish so hard I'm there again
Eve looks at the drawing, eyes flicking from side to side. She grabs the paper and throws it aside, then starts drawing again.
Follow me (follow me)
There was more. She’s sure of it.
Follow me (follow me)
Eve’s eyes focus on the paper. She shuts them, the white is still visible for a moment in the dark of her eyelids.
All that I wanted
What was it?
The dreams I had before
A whisper of something.
All that I needed
A shape.
I've never needed more
An eclipse?
All of my questions
Eve’s hand moves in a slow circle, tracing a shape across the paper.
Are answers to my sins
Bearing down hard with the charcoal, Eve keeps making circular motions with her hand, following the faint outline of a memory.
All of my endings waiting to begin
Circles within circles, unending.
I know the way, but I falter
But there’s something else.
Can't be afraid of my patience
It isn’t an eclipse.
There's a sacred place where Razel keeps safe
Eye’s brows furrow, jaw tightens. Her hand moves in sharper motions.
Follow me (follow me)
Stark black lines on white. Hatch marks.
I've seen so much I'm behind again
Scales.
Follow me (follow me)
Struggling to remember what Richard called it — Kolowisi? — Eve instead remembers Kaylee’s snake. The snake of her dreams. Her worst impulses.
I feel so bad I'm in love again
This feels right. This shape. A circle.
Follow me (follow me)
The charcoal snaps from the pressure, but Eve doesn’t notice. She just keeps scribbling.
All that I wanted
Over and over. Black on white, round and round.
The dreams I had before
Over and over.
All that I needed
White and black.
I've never needed more
And when Eve opens her eyes, the two concepts have merged into one.
All of my questions
The thing she’d forgotten in her vision.
are answers to my sins
A whisper of truth. A serpent. A circle.
All of my endings…
An ouroboros.
…are waiting to begin.