Jibber Jabber
Short Fiction by Thuy Ngo
Art by Nicholas Johnson

Sitting in a room talking to herself, she wonders about the world around her. Then as they lounge in places around her, they ask her, "Is that all you do? Draw pictures and write stories?"  She stops and thinks for a moment and continues with her stories to herself, continuing without them. She continues on with her day and laughing all to herself. She laughs a lonely laugh, without realizing that she is really alone in this room. Emotion falls and expectation rises for an answer, a solution to her concerns and an ending to her conversations, but due to no reply, she continues on with talking to herself, writing stories and drawing pictures.

She waits for no reply while engrossed in her pictures. To draw another picture is to be caste away from another moment from talking to herself. However, to talk to her self was to overlook their power that they were there and she is helpless. She shudders a shudder to ward off the cold of her loneliness. She shies away from them all as the recluse who draws and writes in he convenience of her room where none come to bother her in these incessant conversations. She shudders, shaking and cannot move. She can not move or speak for a time, luminated by toughs of the past to dwell upon. She dwells in these tricks and phantoms calls her mind plays and wades in a pool of these tattered broken dreams.

A young man walks in. A sweet face, a face so sweet you could melt in it's watery shadow. Is he there? Is he there? Is it he's not anywhere? She looks at him for a moment and before she comes to realize whom she is seeing, he is gone in the mists as the echoes of the voices. A whisper from the young man, "God loves you... I love you..." So he was gone, the dark angel of her waken dreams.

She falters. Could it be? Time passes and is still for a moment. She can move. All she has left are these broken tears for a time long past, and heaves silent sobs. Just could it be? Could it be him?