Cartoon Deathwork

     Click.  Blurred scratches of static echoed around the jungled room.  Lion and zebra stuffed animals lining the shelves of the white antique dresser, followed by the whole Disney princess movie series.  Singing and laughter radiated from the small screen; swarming around the nine-month-old child’s crib and into the naive ears of the little girl- fast asleep. Her dreams wild and free.

     The child had tan skin with tight, bouncy, brown curls that frizzed around the edges. The dimples pinned to her cheeks revealed the innocence of her inherited smile. She had cracked lips and skinny arms that shivered with each passing blade of the fan above her. To her left, laid two dolls; a small girl in a pink, floral dress, and a matching mother, holding together the blanket surrounding her daughter.

     “We love you Zamari,” the voices repeatedly whispered, “and we know you’ll love us too…”

     The whispering continued for two long years, and soon Zamari began learning how to talk. She started to understand these characters and would sit upon the cushion of her bunny pillow pet, playing “I Spy” with the oldest.

      “Zippy!,” she’d call out to the blue monster.

     He was a tall, slim creature; a clone to the others but containing such a strong sense of dominance that he stood out like a sore thumb. It’s body as straight and stiff as a stick, meeting at two cat-like ears at the top. He had large, rounded, blood-shot eyes that watered more and more with each passing second.

     “Very good, my child!,” he replied, smiling ear to ear.  “And soon you’ll meet the rest of your brothers and sisters…”  Zamari never did hear the end of this sentence, as she would fall asleep; the edge of her thumb propped up on the side of her mouth.

     Every night, for the next couple of months, the characters entranced Zamari with the secrets of a world unlike her’s.  They would talk of an animated reality, where boys and girls could have and do anything beyond their imagination. Where the sky wasn't the only limit and there was always room for adventure across the sea.  

     “Hold on tight! Hold on tight!,” Zippy’s army would preach with squeaky, alluring voices. “This world isn't yours until you truly embrace it…”

     As Zippy spoke, Zamari ate up every word.  Soon, she started dreaming about it, pretended to live it.  Every night she would slide on a bright blue onesie and dance with the monsters; hypnotized by their joyous charm.

     It wasn't until Zamari turned five years old, that things really started to change.  Soon, her mother began to realize that she was starting to grow out of these baby cartoons.  So, one early morning, she snuck into Zamari’s room while she was fast asleep. With feathered hands, she grabbed the stacks of CDs labeled “Zumba’s World” and slyly locked them away in the attic.

     The attic was dark and cold.  Full of dust mites and dead bugs that scattered across the rotted wood.  Without the circulating air vents, the stacked boxes and junk collected dust and dirt.  The birds whistling outside became muffled by the thick walls. Everything was silent. Everything was forgotten...

     Without these creatures, life still carried on.  Soon, the colorful costumes were put away, the scribbled drawings, of a fantasized world, were shoved into bins and drawers, and her memory of the cartoons, completely diminished.  All was back to normal and the invisible threats seemed to be gone forever…

     One winter evening, four tedious years later, as Zamari headed to bed, something in the air was off.  It felt colder… darker… The taste of metal filled the inside of her mouth and spread throughout her body as goosebumps rose to the top of her skin.  At the time, Zamari thought nothing of this. It all seemed like part of the side effects of winter, maybe the start of a cold? Nothing that would prepare her for what was really yet to come.

     From the side of the attic, the rumble began.  Closer and closer the sound crept towards the opening of the musty room above. Louder and louder and grew until the latched, wooden door swung open, hitting the wall behind-  silent. It was as if the world had frozen in place, and yet the night still carried on.

     And on. And on... The rising morning sun never seems to arrive as the stars in the sky balanced on threads and the moon danced beside them.  The stiff hands on the clocks held their breath, never daring to release a tick with each passing second. It was 2:53 a.m. And it continued to stay 2:53 as the laughter of tiny blue creatures began once more.

     Click. Zamari fluttered her eyes open, tiredly, as her head began to throb from the high-pitched shrieks and giggles coming from the corner of her room.

     “Mommy?,” she whispered in confusion. No answer. However, the laughter increased, swarming through the air like bees without a hive. Slowly, Zamari swung her legs over the side of her bed and let her bare feet hit the cool tiled floor. She tiptoed, slyly, over to the light switch beside the oak door, lifted her hand, and gave it a slight flick. Flick. Flick. No power. As she reached for the door knob, the darkness around her seemed to envelop her warm body and pull back her hand as the lock on the door snapped sideways. She pounded and pulled at the door with all of her energy, but it just wouldn't budge.

     Through all of this ruckus, Zamari’s attention was interrupted by the still, shining television in the corner. A soft light illuminated around it and traveled towards her frozen body. A quiet hum spread throughout the hollow room, filling each and every crease and crevice. Her feet seemed to pull towards the trap, still stuck in a shocked state of mind.

     “Zamaaarrriii ,” Zippy called-out in a low, rumbling voice. “Zamari, come heeree…”

     “Who are you?,” Zamari replied, her voice shaking.

     “ You don't remember me?”

     “ How are you- what are you?”

     “Nuh-uh-uhh. I’ll answer any questions have for me, once you answer mine.”

     Stunned, she stared blankly at the animated screen, covered and multicolored monsters. The same sly smirk, plastered across their faces.

     “Let me go!,”  Zamari screamed at the psychotic animations.

     “You were meant for this world Zamari. You were meant for our world.”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “For years and years we cared for you. Nurtured you. We showed you a world that contained possibilities beyond your imagination. You loved talking about how you would become part of our family one day. It’s time my child.”

     Just then, the screen began to crack. Hundreds and hundreds of blue creatures spilled out of the TV, crawling and reaching towards Zamari’s small body. she started to run, but had nowhere to go. Climbing so hard and fast up her bunk bed, that it wasn't until she made it to the top that she realized there were tears streaming down her face. Her damp cheeks boiled as she screamed at the demons hurling towards her.

     “Stop!  Please stop!  I’m happy! I don’t need you!”

     More and more monsters from Zumba’s World strung up the wooden structure, to eventually contain her life and convert her into one of them. They ripped and clawed up the sides, still chanting and singing their songs of false happiness...

     Fear. Fear was the only thing holding her back from a war she was bound to lose. So she hid.  She hid under the safety of her bed sheets and closed her eyes, dreaming of the life she has now. How lucky and privileged she is and how she couldn't imagine having a life other than hers.  Her dad hadn’t been there for her all her life and that doesn’t matter. Because you know who has been there? Her mother. Her friends and her uncle. Her peers and teachers at school who have supported her and been with her throughout her short journey of life.  It was at this moment that Zamari realized how wrong she had been. How she didn’t need the reassurance from someone who wanted nothing to do with her, to continue to grow in who she is. These happy and relieving thoughts filled her mind and she fell asleep just as the clock struck 2:54.

     Awake. Zamari was awake and the sun was shining through her window’s sheer curtains. She sat up as her body ached and her head stung with pain. Everything was calm, and back to normal. She pulled the heavy comforter off of her warm body as she descended from her safe point and jumped to the floor, but as she looked down at the tile below her, it wasn't the brown marble she was expecting. Instead, it was smothered in black paint, slimy and stained; molded into the cracks of the concrete. And yet, still good as new...