Shrill Connection | Teen Ink

Shrill Connection

September 27, 2023
By LS15 GOLD, Nashotah, Wisconsin
LS15 GOLD, Nashotah, Wisconsin
17 articles 0 photos 0 comments

A foggy morning, crisp with wind blown from the early bits of fall. I am the owner of a small bakery, the light of a quaint town in Manila, Philippines. Sipping my cold gingerberry kombucha, I take it all in. To my left, Maya Angelou is devouring a steaming plate of banana pecan pancakes slathered in brown butter and syrup, crunchy hash browns on the side. As I look over, I am met with a glare. Attempting to decipher her expression, I read her lips as they silently form the shape of words that resonate in the back of my mind 

Bro, do you want some sparkling juice?

The voice of my grandmother rings in my ear. Shocked, I turned the other way to tie my high top sneakers. As I look down, a silent centaur is asleep at my feet, snoring to the tune of Bon Iver’s Flume.

I am my mother’s only son. It’s enough. 

Suddenly ridden with confusion, I begin to approach a familiar face down the street. I leave the bakery susceptible to all crime, and confidently shake the hand of the one and only Drake, grasping his hand with a strength of 530,660 watts of energy. In response to the recent hand crushing, he begins murmuring in french. A sound so shrill to my ears. 

Cupe la tet!

I do not know the meaning of the phrase, but quickly leave the situation with a pit of dread in my stomach like a very plump manatee in a too-small-tank. A light taupe color blankets over my eyes as I begin to feel faint. I am falling down, waiting for the embrace of the cold ground beneath me to rattle my composure. I fall, whizzing straight through the hard surface beneath me into an unknown dimension. The clean taste of lake water meets my lips as I gasp desperately for air, only to find that I am underwater. 

Woah!

I rapidly swim to the surface and discover that I am now in the depths of Pine lake. I look around for the penultimate time before realizing that there is no land to escape to. The only object in the distance is the silhouetted form of my friend Ricky, along with singer songwriter Brent Fayiaz, waiving periodically in the water. I am stuck in the center of a lake that used to feel comforting. Aimlessly swimming around, now, only fear floods my once peaceful mind. 



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