Cassie part two

by Anna Caporusso

Two black 'eyes' looking like dark pearls in her porcelain face let me freeze.

"I can't tell you. But trust me, we've to go."

"Where do we have to go?"

"Far away. Please. Come with me."

She took my hand again and tried to pull me with her. I stayed where I was.

"Cassie..."

"Dean! Come with me!"

"No, Cassie. Tell me what's up and where we have to go."

"I can't! We don't have any time left!", she shouted at me.

We heard voices coming out of the forest and steps that became louder every second. A small beam of a torch fell on my face.

"Run!"

Cassie's stunned face was reason enough for realizing that we had to run as fast as we could, if we wanted to survive this night. I grabbed her hand and began to sprint. Wood cracked beneath my naked feet but I didn't feel the pain I usually should have had. I heard men shouting only few meters behind us. I couldn't see anything, we were too fast again, unbelievable fast. How could it be possible that they're running almost as fast as we did? The shouting voices came closer and my heart beat so fast that I could her it loud in my own head. A gunshot made me stop suddenly. I could see the pain in Cassie's face, she got tears in her eyes, then she closed them. Her legs failed and she hit the dark, cold and dirty ground. A bit of blood ran out of her mouth. It didn't take long to think about what to do, I took her over my shoulder and continued the escape. Warm blood from her mouth dripped on my naked chest. Then suddenly, a second gunshot. Something black fell from the sky and hit the ground in front of me. One last tremble ran through the black feathered wings of the small crow. I jumped over the small, black, bleeding body and kept on running. I mustn't stop! They mustn't get us! 

I didn't know how long I was running now but I knew that I wouldn't maintain it any longer. I didn't get enough air anymore, it was hard to breath and my legs trembled. I slowed down. Afraid of what I could see now, I turned around. It was still in the middle of the night even if I had a feeling like running since hours. There was nobody behind me anymore. I really managed it. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. I gasped when I suddenly heard a coughing close to me and realized that I was still carrying Cassie on my shoulder. I went on my knees and carefully put her on the ground. I softly stroked her hair from her face and looked at the dried blood on her chin. She coughed again.

"Cassie?"

Her eyes opened a little bit. But the way she looked at me was cold and it seemed more like she looked right through me. One single tear slowly ran down her face and mixed with a new drop of blood on her full lips which were pale and blue instead of red like they always were. 

"Cassie!"

No reaction. She was cold as ice, I noticed, when I touched her arm. She took one deep, loud breath. Then she closed her eyes again. No. She couldn't be dead now. She couldn't be dead. All the magic around her couldn't be gone. I felt it, all the time. There was a special kind of love between us. A love which couldn't die now. I enjoyed it to be close to her, to watch her smiling, to be with her, no matter how the situation was. I couldn't lose her now. I took her hands into mine. Thinking about losing her caused the most awful pain I've ever had. Pain in my chest which became bigger with every single breath. Pain which started burning through my whole body. I closed my eyes but I couldn't stop my tears. 

Toni Morrison

Our Feature Writer of the month is Toni Morrison, a contemporary Afro-American novelist—still living—who was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1988 for her novel, Beloved, and the Nobel Prize for literature in 1993.

She was born “Chloe Ardella Woffard” in 1931 to a working-class family in Lorain, Ohio, but changed her name to “Toni” after St. Anthony when she became a Catholic at the age of 12.  She did not always aspire to becoming a writer, but dreamed instead of becoming a book publisher and university teacher.  She studied English at Howard University and then attended graduate school at Cornell University, where she wrote a thesis onWilliam Faulkner and Virginia Woolf before returning to Howard as a professor.  Her first novel, The Bluest Eye, was the result of a creative writing exercise she pursued while participating in a poetry group at Howard.

Morrison’s first efforts as a writer did not meet with immediate success. More committed to establishing a venue for Afro-American authors in American publishing, Morrison left Howard to work at Random House and, eventually, to teach at Yale University. Her own novel-in-progress did not meet with much encouragement and so took her ten years to finish writing.  Influenced by the Afro-American folk tales her father used to tell her, and the stream-of-consciousness of Faulkner and Woolf, her mythical story of a black child longing to have blue eyes like the white child-star Shirley Temple was too fresh and original to fit with the expectations of mainstream publishing.

Despite or maybe because of the misunderstanding her work met, the plight of the The Bluest Eye stirred up Morrison’s own confidence and sense of herself as a writer. When it was finally published in 1970, her powers as a writer were unleashed and in quick succession she wrote many of the novels she’s come to be known for:  Sula (1973), which was nominated for the National Book Award, Song of Solomon (1977), a best-seller that brought her national recognition, and ultimately Beloved  (1987) which won the Pulitzer Prize and the American Book Award and led to her nomination for the highest literary acclaim of all: The Nobel Prize (1993). Her subsequent novels include:  Jazz (1992), Paradise (1997), Love (2003), A Mercy (2008) and Home (2012). Beloved was made into a successful feature film in 1998.

Her novels are not an easy read as she explores multiple and shifting points of view and the poetic cadences of Afro-American dialect in an attempt to rewrite history from the sensibility of her oppressed ancestors.

Morrison has received the highest accolades as a writer and is also credited with founding the prestigious Princeton Atelier at Princeton University, a workshop that brings students into contact with established and well- renowned artists. Now in her 80s, she continues to influence young writers through her position as Writer-in-Residence at Oberlin College.

Self-love

if you loved yourself

as much as I love you

you'd eat your vegetables everyday

you'd always look both ways before crossing the rode

you'd tie up your shoelaces twice, just in case

you wouldn't have to cover your wrists with bracelets

you wouldn't listen to the whispers on the corridors

you'd know that they don't really know you 

you wouldn't skip any meals

or refuse something as good as chocolate

because you'd look in the mirror and you'd know

that there's absolutely nothing wrong with you

you'd smile to strangers on the streets

because you'd know that your smile

is the most beautiful of all

and only your smile

has the power turn person's life around

so if you loved yourself

just half as much as I love you

you'd love yourself endlessly