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 Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 7:12 pm
▒▒▒▒ Stark and Confident ▒▒▒▒ Manuela groaned as her mother attempted to rouse her, shaking her shoulder to wake her up. "Come on sweet girl," Estelle cooed, "You've got work in about ten minutes. I put your bicycle beside the door." With that she left the girl alone, hoping she wouldn't have to come back to try again. Sometimes when Manuela decided to sleep in she would ignore two or three wake up calls before she was finally forced to get out of bed. This morning however, Manuela felt particularly energized, and with a yawn she stretched and got to her feet. She tugged at the bottom of her cotton tank top, noting after a moment that something seemed different. She blinked sleepily, turning to face her mirror. She tugged it tighter, then a smile came over her face. "Yes!" she shouted, doing a little victory dance. Downstairs, Estelle simply shook her head, going about her morning routine.
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Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2008 11:47 am
▒▒▒▒ Grieving ▒▒▒▒ Manuela stared blankly past the altar, watching the dark blood of the morning sacrifice dripping down the wall where she had thrown the bowl. Her incense smoldered on the altar cloth, burned down over the hours. The smoke stung at her eyes, coaxing a few more tears down her cheeks. Estelle stood in the back corner of the church, watching her depressed daughter like a hawk. She had been like this ever since she had heard about the fire at the Sinclair residence. It was almost frightening, watching how she transitioned so randomly between rage and the trance like state she was in now, but there was nothing she could do to soothe her. "Harper, you left me," Manuela whispered bitterly, blowing on the embers until a tiny flame erupted on the cloth. She watched it transfixed as it swept over the fabric, disfiguring the candles of the saints she knew so well. Her eyes narrowed as she reached her hand forward, feeling the fur on the tip of her tail spring to life in its spiritual flame. For a moment before her fingertips reached the greedy tongues of the altar blaze she seemed almost ghostly in the pallor of a lost soul. Suddenly Estelle pushed her away, throwing a wet woolen blanket to smother the flames. Manuela seemed to remain in her trance as she lay on the floor, watching wide eyed as her mother struggled to put out the flames. Finally a fog of smoke began to trickle out from underneath. "Manuela, what were you thinking?" Estelle rasped, coughing as she turned to her daughter, "You nearly burned the church down." Manuela didn't respond, instead stumbling to her feet. With her long black skirt tangling at her heels she took off toward the stairs.
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Manuela Ceballos-Escalera
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Posted: Sun May 18, 2008 9:46 am
▒▒▒▒ Pushed to the Brink ▒▒▒▒ The church was filled with the stench of sickness, permeating through every barrier and precaution that had been set up. People were lined shoulder to shoulder up against the walls, crowded into every available inch of space. In the center of the room old cots bore those that were too sick to sit up, and kneeling beside one such patient was Manuela, draped in a robe of dull undyed linen. She, like almost half of the people gathered there, wore a surgical mask with a dark green date written on it. The other half, which included those on the cots, wore a thicker mask with a bright red X. These were two of the few clearheaded ideas of the past few weeks, and served as a manner to tell who was infected and who was not. Just a month ago the neighborhood had been vibrant and festive, as the homes of optimists usually are, but it had been hit with something that no one had expected. Exactly three weeks prior six cases of meningitis were reported from the middle school. The number was higher than usual, but the proper cautions were taken to prevent it. All but in the children's homes. It spread like wildfire to their siblings, their friends, and eventually their parents. It leaked into the schools like toxic ooze, affecting everyone that came into contact with it. Manuela, safe at the CP school on the other side of town, was one of the few left untouched. It was fortunate to the neighborhood, because those that could afford the hospital had filled it near to overflow. There had to be provisions. The church had been opened up as an asylum, running off of donations to provide cots, herbal medicines, and most appreciated, the care of Manuela, believed by much of the community to be a spirit healer.
For four straight days she had been walking between life and death, and despite the fact that she herself had been cleared for the disease she felt distinctly ill. It seemed that each time she knelt beside a patient and laid her hands upon their chest it became harder and harder not to swoon, as if some invisible force were trying to push her over. She closed her eyes as she laid her hands on another, feeling the turmoil that they felt in their fevered dreams. The pain was starting to affect her now, more so than it ever had. The only other times she had had to use her powers the environment had been so much more controlled, and she had had chances to rest. This was anarchy. The floor was spattered with blood and mucus, and various other things that Manuela had decided best not to question, and it seemed that there was never an end to the list of people who needed her attention. Estelle was doing her best to provide basic care, but no one was satisfied with just that. Her mind began to wander, and suddenly the man beneath her hands seized violently, latching his clammy hand around her wrist as his head slammed repeatedly into the metal frame of the cot. Time seemed to stop as she fought to pull her hands free, and watched as blood began to pour from the growing wound on the back of his head. She felt bile rising in her throat as his eyes shot open, cloudy and yellow, listless. She could feel him dying, and the force of it had her shaking. Terrified she screeched for her mother, desperately trying to free herself from the stern hands that were now stiffly locked around her wrists. Estelle was rushing to get through the room to her, but when he had first started to seize a crowd had quickly formed around him. Before she could get there, everything went quiet. The man's head hung limply off the side of the cot, a wide crack beaten into his skull. Blood and tissue poured freely from the hole, slowing now as the force of his heartbeats ceased. His eyes were still open, turned on Manuela. She was still caught in his grasp but she had stopped moving, now staring in horror at his face. Something shocked her back to reality for when she looked down at her hands, still trapped by his, she wretched, coughing endlessly as her body fought to void her empty stomach. She freed her hands with a sickening crunch, breaking one of his hands in the process. By the time Estelle reached Manuela she had retreated into her knees, gripping them tight against her face. She trembled as she pulled herself closer, tightening the grip and trying to drown out the hushed whispers that were surrounding her. There was something else, in her mind, telling her that she had killed him, and the thought was enough to make her ill. Estelle touched her back and she started, leaping to her feet and stumbling backwards over people to get to the wall. Those that could moved out of her way, giving her a wide berth of suspicion. With a panicked expression she mouthed something unintelligible and threw a glace to the body that had now stained its cot and the surrounding floor a deep sickly red. She wretched again, but scrambled pushing people out of the way, making a run for the apartment upstairs. Estelle stood motionless, not knowing what had happened. She asked someone to call 911, though she knew full well it was already too late.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2008 3:27 pm
▒▒▒▒ Nightmares ▒▒▒▒ The church was quiet for hours after the ambulance left, and Estelle busied herself cleaning up and trying to take everyone's minds off the incident. But still some people questioned what Manuela had had to do with the man's death. Some said that she had done all she could have, but others whispered in accusatory tones that she had aided in his death. These were hard words for a mother to hear, but in all truth she had her own suspicions. The look on her daughter's face had been an entirely new one, almost frightening. She had looked like a wild animal, and just the thought of it gave her shivers. Night fell on the neighborhood and slowly the people retreated to their bunks, guarding what precious luxuries they had. It was cruel, but many had celebrated death, it meant one more open space.
Manuela was nowhere to be seen. Estelle became a little worried when she didn't show up for dinner, but she had assumed that the teenager had simply made something for herself in the apartment upstairs. Still, it was unlike the girl to desert her when she was needed. But she waited, perhaps Manuela just needed some time. After a few hours most of the people in the church had fallen asleep, and the groans of the sick were once again audible over everything else. Estelle locked up the doors and turned out the main lights, leaving just a few small ones on to help her make her way to the stairs. She had a strange feeling as she got up to the apartment, and her hand shook on the key, trying to match it with the lock. Finally she got the door open, and found that the lights in the apartment were all off. She felt her breath catch in her throat, knowing that something was wrong. Leaving the door open behind her she hurried down the hall to Manuela's room, finding the door locked. Music poured out of the room, nearly deafening through the door. "Manuela," Estelle shouted, "Open up right now!" She shook the door knob, hoping to break the cheap lock. With a bit of force the door came open and at first glance the room seemed empty. Then her eyes fell to the floor. Manuela was sprawled out on the carpet, motionless.
Estelle panicked. There was nothing around to explain it. No drugs, no alcohol, nothing that she could have gotten into. She hurried to her side, shaking the girl to try and wake her. Manuela was cold to the touch but still breathing and Estelle quickly reached into the girl's pocket for her cell phone. Breathless she dialed 911, managing to spit out their address before she burst into tears.
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Manuela Ceballos-Escalera
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Manuela Ceballos-Escalera
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2008 11:46 pm
▒▒▒▒ Recovery ▒▒▒▒ The fluorescent lights came into focus abruptly, spurring a fresh rush of pain. Manuela convulsed, dry heaving till her lungs burned and she managed to calm herself. Her hands were trembling, IV cables snaking through one and a monitoring clip attached painfully to the other. Without thinking she ripped the clip off and pulled herself to the edge of the bed. Her toes touched the ground with an unfamiliar numbing cold. One foot, then the other, and she pulled herself to standing. Before she had even taken her hand off the side table her legs crumpled beneath her, sending her IV tower and the table's contents careening to the floor nearby. The mirror smacked the tile with a sickening crunch, sending shards spinning across the floor. Manuela managed to avoid the sharper pieces as she worked her way into a hapless crawl but as she passed the frame something caught her eye. There was her reflection in the broken glass, but something was wrong. Where was her hair? She froze, blinking a few times. She could see the reflection of the two nurses that had rushed into the room at the noises and were trying to pull her up and back into bed. They looked normal, so it couldn't be a trick, could it? As one of the women lifted her up by the shoulders she hovered her fingers over her stubble scalp. There was nothing there. Closer, nothing. Finally she rested her hand against it, feeling only miniscule fuzz. It was gone. Her mouth was dry, how long had it been that way? She licked her lips, moving her hand back and forth over her head. What was that? Her fingertips grazed something foreign, almost ridged, something she couldn't identify. She tried again, this time exploring it more thoroughly. Every time her fingers made contact a strange tingling pain shot all the way down to her toes. Slowly it dawned on her. Those were stitches, there was something very wrong. She could hear Estelle's voice somewhere in the room but it seemed distant, almost ghostly. One of the nurses was saying something but she couldn't make it out. Her eyes felt heavy. Everything went dark again.
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Posted: Sun Jan 04, 2009 3:54 pm
▒▒▒▒ Heading Home ▒▒▒▒ Manny hadn't said much since she had woken up. It wasn't that she couldn't, the doctors had assured Estelle of that, but that she was angry, as if she'd been betrayed. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. Except maybe Manny herself for overusing her powers. She had asked her to do it though, hadn't she? The constant drain on her powers had led to a buildup of pressure in her brain, something that had nearly killed her. Surgeons in the ER had managed to relieve the pressure before it caused much damage. Ger brain hadn't been the only area affected though. When they had checked her out after her fall they found something unusual. She hadn't simply collapsed from the expected muscle weakness, though it had been a factor. The long bones in her right leg looked moth eaten, as if something had weaved in and out through them. So she went into surgery a second time. They attached two jointed metal supports to the bones, preventing them from snapping but leaving her with a pronounced limp. Shortly after her fall she started physical therapy, trying to build up her muscles and adjust to the odd feeling of the supports. Three week into it she wasn't making good progress. Her hair was growing back and the incisions had mostly healed, but she was becoming increasingly frustrated and her leg gave her an almost constant pain. At a loss, she accepted a new plan. Now her therapy involved working with a cane, something she never would have accepted previously. Finally, more than six months after her admission, she was released. Hospital policy required that she leave in a wheelchair, but she was making significant strides with the cane. Estelle had called a taxi for the trip home, deciding that even if she had been doing phenomenally it was too long of a walk and she wouldn't appreciate the attention she would get on the bus. Manuela stayed silent, almost pensive, as she pulled herself out of the chair, refusing the help of her nurse. She could make it five feet by herself, she didn't need them doting. She stumbled at first, still adapting to how stiff her leg was, but managed to climb into the backseat without incident. The drive home was awkward, the silence punctuated only by their breath and the occasional observation of the weather. Out of nowhere Manny found her voice. "Mama, I miss Harper," was all she said before turning away again, but to Estelle the words had more meaning than anything else in the world. She fought back tears, "We all do Poca, but he's watching you from God's right hand and I'm sure he wants you to be happy." No response came, but there was an air of quiet understanding between them.
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Manuela Ceballos-Escalera
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Manuela Ceballos-Escalera
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2009 4:38 pm
▒▒▒▒ Regaining the Rush: Part One ▒▒▒▒ Manny glanced up, eyeing the clock nervously. It was nearly 1AM; surely her mother would be asleep by now. She turned her attention to the window, where the faint glare of headlights on the street was the only hint of activity. She was dressed in a slinky orange gown the color of her eyes, topped with a black fur jacket that hit just above her knees, below the hem of the dress. Her boots, topped in an orange beading, nearly touched the bottom of the jacket, giving her a slightly refined appearance. She felt like she could pass for eighteen in this. The water bra certainly aided the illusion. A car honked far off down the road, her signal that they were almost there. As quietly as she could she opened her window and climbed out, bracing against the siding with her good leg until she reached the roof of the chicken coops. From there she simply dropped to the ground, cringing as she regretted the decision to leave her cane behind. You don’t need it, she told herself, rubbing out the stiffness as the SUV pulled up. She forced a wide smile and jumped into the back, finding only one friendly face among the group.
Theresa, the girl she knew from the corner store, gestured around the car as they pulled away. “This is Trey, EJ, Maria and her sister Elise, and the big boy driving is Marcus,” she explained quickly, “We’re going to Heat first.” Manny shifted uncomfortable as they looked her up and down, hoping she had used enough foundation to cover the scar on her leg. Trey sighed and leaned back against the seats, “She’ll do.” She wanted to ask, but decided it would be best not to, after all she was supposed to seem like she did this all the time. Sneaking out to some club she’d never even heard of, Estelle would kill her if she found out.
She was silent through most of the drive, hesitantly accepting a drink from a bottle that was being passed around. It was acrid, nothing like the wine that Mama had let her taste a few times before. It must have been liquor. She choked a little, earning laughs from the rest of them. “Careful, she’ll be out before we even get there,” Elise said mockingly, snatching the bottle from her hands. Manny watched as she took a long gulp without so much as flinching. “That’s how it’s done,” Elise said, triumphant that all eyes were on her for now. The guys laughed and Manny sunk just a little further back into her seat. She rubbed her leg, noting that it and her face felt a little warmer than they had before she had taken some.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Marcus took a sudden turn and the car came to a stop. “Hike up your skirts ladies, we’re here,” he bellowed, swinging open his door. Manny was the last to get out, thumbing her fake ID in her bag nervously as they walked toward the club. Fortunately for her, the bouncer didn’t seem too interested as he thumped Marcus on the back and waved them through ahead of the crowd. He must be somebody.
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