(Today and tomorrow we are pleased to present Shontay Luna. You can call her work a prose poem or a microfiction, any way you think about her writing, it conveys her own POV–the Eds.)
I felt fine, then he called me. He called me every other day.
In my bliss-filled day of not hearing from him, I heard from him.
For every day he didn’t call I knew he’d do it the next day. If I
knew how to set my watch, I could do so by the punctuality of
him trying to invite me to breakfast while I sat peacefully in my
own apartment. Or other offerings of things or excursions as
methods of him trying to win me back. Conveniently bypassing
the elephant sized infidelity in the room. After turning him down
yet again, he switches tactics. Telling me that I shouldn’t be mad
anymore. Which I’m not; I felt fine before the call. But like clockwork,
I cried after talking to him. And I knew he was where I once lived,
near his phone. Smirking. The wound still fresh, the scab not
completely covered. I cried, but I don’t know why. I wasn’t angry
anymore, just tired. My soul compacting itself against me. How does
a soul compact? I don’t know, but mine did. Like an over-torturous
form of shrinking. An unconscious drilling of a matte-colored soul that
once shined. The words and names that tortured me at that residence
no longer having any hold since my exodus. As I consider if now I should
avoid him completely. But he’s their father. Whatever family event they’ll
be – birthdays, holidays, he’ll be there also. At the cost of being able to
see our kids and grands, his presence is a sacrifice I’m willing to tolerate
– for now.
Shontay Luna
Saragun Springs 
Shontay
Welcome to the site.
The suffering of the soul forever connected by children must be a special hell. Of course that only gets better when both can let go.
Brilliant look into the human heart!
Leila
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Wow! This is a moving portrait of the soul. I could feel the angst and complications of a relationship. Beautiful writing that flows into your thoughts.
“My soul compacting itself against me. How does
a soul compact?” I found this to be a very intriguing line.
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Shontay
I enjoy how this piece begins “in medias res,” right in the middle or, in this case, the heart of things. The long, flowing lines capture the emotional and psychic tension of a fraught relationship and the uncertainty of not being certain what to do. No words are wasted and the piece has forward momentum, like life. The way it concludes with an “open ending” is just as effective as the way it begins in the middle. Again, the uncertainty here reflects the way life is with emotional honesty. We have intuitions about what we should do, but can never be certain, except sometimes. Until then, the push and pull of life holds us in its grip (and even afterward, too). Chaucer said the only thing we can be certain of is that nothing is certain; we are always dealing with unexpected visitors (of one kind or another), who want things from us.
Dale
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Shontay, this is a wonderful piece. There is nothing so dead as a dead love, especially one that continues to beckon from the grave. I read it three times. Thank you.
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