Oakdale Ink
June 2025: Best of 24-25
“All the world’s a stage”- William Shakespeare
“what lingers on” by Aspen Alofe
i wish that february wraps you in his embrace/but you’ll be expecting my heartbeat and my skin prickling against yours /[it never comes].
love letters lay on my cocoa
desk, frostbitten at the edges
i wish you roses not yet bloomed,
i’m stuck in the in-between living-
living as if you’re still here,
but your coat no longer falls
on the metal rack & your weight fails
to dip beside me & i can no longer
wrap my arms around your
frame, gripping tight to keep-
keep you from slipping from me; i’m
unable to delay this truth, it already
passed. i step through the door
frame entwined with honeysuckle
& dripping dulcet candied syrup & i
relive june, impregnated with our
love, spilling through cracks,
reaching july & stretching ‘till
february. shortest month, longest
feeling. the anniversary of the day you
left, my world shattered
& pieces scattered across the
floor. you said you “outgrew love”
& i’m left to rebuild what’s left. it
i wish that february wraps you in his embrace/but you’ll be expecting my heartbeat and my skin prickling against yours /[it never comes]was all you, too much history
shared & i’m stranded now that
you’re gone, with no manual aiding
me in How to Live Life When You’ve
Lost Your Heart. i wish february
wraps you in his embrace & you
think back to the times we were together.
you’ll be expecting my heartbeat & my
skin prickling against yours, but
it never comes. eternally yearning
for a love that might reflect what i had for
you.
“Sweet Summer” by Evah Long
The first time I saw her, she was in a bar in Costa Rica. Eyeliner was smudged on with my curly hair pinned up, strands of hair floating out like water. The combination of alcohol and the crowded room made her seem unreal, almost a figment of my imagination. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl’s blonde hair make a halo around her face.
Her brown eyes shone despite the low lighting of the room. Her bright smile burned into every possible corner of my mind. I never understood how one could be left breathless until that moment, until every breath, every thought, was encapsulated by her. I immediately pushed forward, not caring upon hearing the protests of passersby. I had to know her, to be near her. Before I was able to get close, she was gone, leaving a lingering smell of warm vanilla.
For months, the feeling of wind blowing through my hair or the sweet summer air against my skin brought me back to those blissful few seconds; Those seconds when I could believe that there was heaven on earth.
The second time I saw her, I was walking on a boardwalk in Hawaii, the fresh air bringing back her smile and the freeingness of her hair shining around her.
Fresh lavender flowers were entwined in my hair, my stomach aching from laughing. The girl’s elated face poked out of the car window, the sun gleaming off her skin creating a golden glow full of life.
This time she was looking at me, her stare full of longing. But then she was gone, leaving me with nothing but a memory that would only return in the lingering tastes of wine, remaining bitter sweet.
The third time I saw her was on a beach in Crete, the breeziness of the day stirring up the sand. Water surged against her ankles and the girl looked out into the sea. She wore a flowing sun dress with her hair like sun flowing off her shoulders.
This time, there was no crowd to get lost in, no forces driving us apart. I walked across the rough sand towards her, feeling her glowing presence more with every step. She turned, her golden hair falling across her bronze shoulder, my breath leaving my body once again.
“Hi.” Her sweet voice spoke, the small word almost tearing me apart.
My throat tighten up, unable to focus on anything except the way she smiled and blinked her wide eyes at me.
“I’ve- I’ve seen you around.” The girl spoke, inching closer.
“What’s your name?” My voice finally let out.
“Summer.”
The moment seemed a hallucination, like a daydream that would play over and over. Soon enough, Summer was gone, her lingering presence burning into my mind.
Though she was gone, when the clock hits twelve and the thoughtfulness of a late night settles in, I always knew Summer would return in my mind, the mystery girl I would never truly know.
“Luck”
You’re lucky.
I remember those words like they are engraved in my mind, burning behind my eyes. The way my mother whispered them to me that night, while I cried on the phone until the first rays of morning light broke through my shutters.
There were many things those words could mean. Many ways I, myself, have depicted them. But am I really lucky? Lucky that we fought? Lucky that my car didn’t start? Lucky that I didn’t go with you? Lucky that I didn’t die with you?
I think I am. I feel like I should feel like I am. But instead feel like it is my fault. All of it.
Why ever should luck favor me over you?
You deserved the world, even after everything. I still loved you. I never wanted any of this to happen. Not after the lies, not after our fight, not after I stormed out.
How selfish I was, to run off into the rainy night, tears streaming down my eyes. But, by chance of luck, my car refused to start that night. I called it bad luck and screamed believing God above must delight in tormenting me. In many ways he does, but in this moment I was graced by luck.
You appeared at my window, tapping on the glass. You begged me to come back inside, to not leave it like this. I wouldn’t listen.
Stepping out of the car I slipped past you, taking off into the night like a scared runaway. I don’t even know where I was going, but I had to get away. I ran and ran down streets while your panicked voice called after me.
In that moment I told myself I wouldn’t go back, I wouldn’t look back, would never forgive you for kissing her.
But if it meant you’d be alive today, I would trade all my luck.
The luck that I wasn’t in the car with you, in any car in fact, on the dark rainy night as you drove over to that damned homecoming dance we were supposed to be going to together.
That’s what my mother told me.
I was lucky.
Because I could have been in the car with you when that drunk driver ran the red light. I could’ve still loved you. And I would’ve died with you.
“As Good As Dead” by Evah Long
Again and again.
Elizabeth Gray’s life was one constant loop where each day couldn’t be differentiated from the one before it. Each day stretched into the next with no change of pace, simply the same routine repeated over and over. Again and again.
Elizabeth’s eyes blinked open to see the white ceiling above her. The house was completely silent except for the slow ticking of the clock. She rose out of bed, and walked in an almost mechanical manner into the hallway, her soft footsteps echoing through the silent home.
Down the hallway, the dull leaden walls were only brightened up by a small portrait. The picture displayed a young ballerina, who held a large arrangement of different colored roses. Between the dancer’s position on stage and the look of absolute joy on her face, it could be guessed she had just performed and was now relishing in the cheers and adornment of her audience. The ballerina had chestnut hair, neatly tucked into a bun, and dazzling baby blue eyes, which made Elizabeth’s mousy brown hair appear dull and her pale blue eyes, lifeless.
For only a moment, Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to the picture, like a moth to a flame. The pure joy and passion of the dancer seemed contagious, and she had the sudden longing to crawl inside the painting and live inside it. However, with a shake of the head and a deep breath, she simply continued her morning routine, the same day seeming to repeat over again.
Following her routine, she brushed her teeth for exactly two minutes, entered the kitchen, carefully dragged her knife across her toast again and again to cut it into quarters, and left the house exactly at 8:30. The thought crossed her mind that she could’ve done the simple morning routine in her sleep. As she drove the same route as always, one thought plagued her mind; The ballerina. The passion. The joy. The pure longing. She simply shook her head, took a deep breath, and continued her routine.
Walking towards the front doors, Elizabeth’s heels clicked against the sidewalk. Looking to the right, small white and purple flowers sprung out of the ground. She paused for only a moment, pondering on whether she had passed by those same flowers each day that week without noticing the simple beauty they contained. Footsteps echoed behind her, her coworker muttering a monotone good morning. She simply shook her head and entered the office.
As she passed each gray cubicle, she exchanged identical ‘good morning’s until she had reached her own. It included a simple matching white chair and desk with a laptop sitting upon it, with a ticking clock mounted on the wall.
She moved the mouse to turn on the laptop and was immediately captured by the image flashing across her screen. The wallpaper displayed two figures: one was an aging woman with gray hair and wrinkles that suggested she had spent much of her life in the sun, and the other was the ballerina, this time with her chestnut hair hanging down to her waist. They held each other closely, and pure joy was shown on their faces. Elizabeth’s hand hovered over the mouse, captivated by the joy in their faces. The urge to enter the scene herself, to wrap her arms around the aging woman was strong. A tear almost welled up in her eye upon seeing the pair, but she quickly let out a soft breath, shook her head slightly, and clicked off of it.
It was unknown to her how much time had passed, it could’ve been hours she sat at the chair or mere minutes. But soon enough she glanced at the clock, 4:56, and at the same time as always, she began to leave the office. She quietly packed up her belongings, gently closed the computer, exchanged well-worn goodbyes to her coworkers, and slipped into her car.
Her car softly hummed as she turned out of the parking lots. In the silence of the car, the same thought plagued her mind, the ballerina. The joy on her face, the pure euphoria of standing in front of a cheering crowd consumed her mind like a sponge, soaking up anything else around it.
She tried to forget it. She tried to take a deep breath and calm herself. She tried to make herself believe she was truly content with this life of constant work. But the truth was, she was miserable.
Her life was a constant circle. A cycle of work and sleep with no joy in between. Memories invaded her mind, the feeling of moving her body to the music, hearing the enthusiasm of the crowd, and knowing that her mom cheered the loudest of all. She felt a small tear slip out of the side of her eye.
As she lifted her hand to wipe the tear away, she allowed her hand to hover above the wheel while her eyes slowly fluttered closed. All she could focus on was that distant memory of the girl she once was, full of life and joy. The memory of the soft, free movement plagued her mind knowing she was nothing but free. For only a moment, she remained like this, a calm washing over her, with her foot on the gas with no idea where she was going. Joining the sound of her slow breath, she almost swore she could hear the sounds of the cheering crowd and the soft classical music.
Suddenly a different sound jolted her back to reality, the sound of a car honking incessantly. Her eyes quickly snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest.
But it was too late.
The truck was already crashing into the side of her small car. The sound of metal creaking and her own scream replaced the daydream, and as she felt the car spin out of her control and the airbags expand, one thought remained in her mind, ‘is this it?
Her life had felt like one big misfortune, the only good things prevailing being her mother and dance, which were both stripped away from her. First with cancer taking her mom, and next with a rejection letter from Julliard coming a couple months later.
It was only now that she was close to death that she truly acknowledged the misery she was living in. Her life was composed of days that were stripped of joy, over and over. Again and again.
Then the light of her world faded into a soft, white haze.
—
All I could see was white. No shape, no figure could be made out. For all I knew, I didn’t have a body, and I was simply floating in a white abyss. I tried to move, but to no avail.
Suddenly a warm sensation washed over me, and any worries were wiped out of my mind. The feeling reminded me of walking into the kitchen of my childhood home and smelling warm chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, with my mom greeting me with a hug. Somehow, I knew someone was there with me. And somehow, I knew it was her.
“Mom?” My voice croaked.
A soft and warm voice spoke out of the abyss, “Lizzie, I’m here”. Somehow I knew that if I could feel my body, I would’ve felt a soft hand grab mine, while her other stroked my hair. I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me, knowing I was safe and looked after.
“How?” I asked, astonished.
“My dear,” She started in that smooth, calming voice that had once sung me lullabies to lull me to sleep at night. “Not everything makes sense, not everything fits in a box. I am here because you need me, and because I’m your mother.” She had a way of explaining things that soothed the mind and made everything more beautiful.
“Mom, am I dead?” My voice shook. I suddenly felt the need for my mom’s arms around me. I needed her comfort the same way a small child would need their mother’s comfort for a scraped knee.
I felt her squeeze my hand before she answered softly, “If you’re talking about your physical body, no Lizzie, you aren’t dead.” She paused slightly. “But with the way that you were living, you’re as good as dead. You didn’t lead a life that allowed for any joy, any love, any passion. But it’s not too late. Live your life.”
“Please don’t leave me mom. Not again.” I pleaded, squeezing her hand back, feeling my need for her more than ever.
“I can’t stay with you, I’m sorry my dear. Live, Lizzie.”
Before I could respond, I felt her hand squeeze mine one last time before slipping out of mine as she slowly faded away from me. I wanted to scream, to call out for her.
Small dots of my vision were fading into view, replacing the soft white light. The warmth that the presence of my mother had brought had faded- replacing it was a searing pain across my right arm. The sound of the hospital monitor beeping reached my ears, along with many unfamiliar voices. I tried to ignore the sound, to try and find the comfort of my mother once again. But it persisted, getting louder and louder. My eyes, my real eyes flew open, and the blurry faces of people wearing blue scrubs faded into view.
“She’s alive!” A voice shouted above me.
—
“Well, this is it.” Nurse Taylor beamed. In her arms, she carried my bags for me through the hospital hallways in which I had spent the last three months in recovery. In those three long months, I truly realized what it would have meant if I had died. I would’ve died without a soul to remember me, and not an accomplishment to remember me by.
In those three months, it was as if I had pushed a restart button on my life. I quit my job, sold my house, and had to relearn how to walk. It felt as if I had been born again, fresh and new. My hair seemed to be growing brighter, and my eyes shined with a sparkle that made me appear as a more mature version of the beautiful ballerina. Even with the damaged arm that I was told would never regain full strength, it was as if I was the strongest person in the world.
As she pushed through the doors to the outside, the summer air hit my face. “I never used to appreciate the weather, or anything for that matter.” I smiled at Nurse Taylor. I stepped out onto that sidewalk and breathed in the warm air, and looked out at the trees and the beaming sun. I admired the white and purple flowers beside the sidewalk, seeing how they flourished in the smooth heat.
She smiled in turn, and commented, “You’ve really pulled through in these couple of months, we’ve all seen that,” She gestured to the hospital building, a small twinkle showing in her eyes. “We’re proud, she would be too.” An almost sad smile spread across my face.
The yellow taxi pulled up in front of the curb, parking to wait for me. I quickly pulled her into a hug and whispered a simple, “Thank you”. As I pulled out of her arms, I knew I wasn’t scared for what was to come. In fact, I felt that right then, in that particular moment, it was the happiest moment of my life.
“Wait, Lizzie, what are you going to do?” she asked, holding onto my arm.
“Live.” I said simply, and clambered into the back seat of the taxi. As the car slowly started to move, I watched the hospital slowly fade out of sight, plunging into this brand new world.
“Where to?” The man asked from the driver's seat.
The answer seemed to bring a sweet taste to my mouth, spreading a smile across my lips. “The Joffrey Ballet, please.”