When I go, I feel like I'll wake up sitting in a booth at an almost empty diner. Some mysterious figures quietly sipping their small cups of coffee with no intention of us talking to one another. The waitress will know when we need refills and will go on with her duties quietly without saying a word. I'll be left staring at the rain that’s beginning to pour outside. My car is broken, at least I think it is. I know it will be fixed once the rain stops, perhaps I had called someone to come. But I don’t see a phone in sight. I don’t think they exist here. And seeing as the rain goes on crashing harder and harder, it appears my car may never be fixed at all. I’ll be left here to think, occasionally write on a notepad I forget is there, and drink my hot cup of infinite coffee. Sometimes I’ll mumble lost phrases to my shadow, but I never know what they mean. The words fall from my lips with the slightest flicker of a memory, one that I used to call mine. I shift my eyes from the checkered tiled floor to the lone streetlamp just beyond the window. The downpour makes it hard to see, but its warm light drapes upon the endless road with such harshness it was almost unsettling. Almost. I haven’t seen one car pass by since I’ve been here, however long that is. Maybe everyone knew to take shelter, maybe a giant storm was coming, and all of us in the diner somehow knew. A creak from the ticket holder catches my attention and I'm reabsorbed into the almost nonexistent hum of the dim lights. The diner is quiet but not lonely. Just as I like it.
Or maybe I'll be left to wander empty malls. I see the store signs but I’m unable to make out the names. They all seem like knock-off versions of the stores I once knew, but I can’t quite seem to remember those either. All malls seem to be trapped in the 90’s, with squiggly primary colored lines decorating the walls, and empty studio lights shining down upon mannequin parts. The stores are empty but I attempt to shop. The racks have fallen apart but I can still play pretend. I purchased marvelous gowns like the ones seen in front window displays back when this building was alive. Then I purchase cheap earrings at the other end of the mall, right after I get my ears pierced. I could buy so many things and my basket would still be empty. Eventually, I found the laser tag room deep inside the bumper car lair and hidden behind shapeless claw machines. Going into that room was the only way I could see stars. The neon wall art almost seemed more beautiful than the night sky I remember. A sky that doesn’t exist in this realm. I was starting to prefer this view, but maybe it’s because I miss the constellations too much. Maybe that’s why I'm here. Left to admire the possibilities of what could become of these forgotten rooms with bent countertops and broken mirrors. I've learned how many steps it takes to get from the food court to the sticky desolate playground. I lay down in the empty water fountain, occasionally finding a penny or two still resting on the cracked blue tile. Gradually, I would collect every scrap of change off the floor but I still wouldn’t have enough to buy a hot dog or a slushie. Nothing works here anyway, and all the food is plastic. Maybe I'll use the coins for a wish instead. One big empty wish.
Lastly, I could end up at my favorite water park. I’m pretty sure this one was my favorite, but all waterparks kind of look the same. This one appeared to be nature themed, with forest imagery everywhere and silly plastic statues of cartoon animals at the bottom of every slide. There were giant rubber lily pads and red mushrooms scattered around the park. Meant for toddlers to play on I’m guessing. It was hard finding my way around at first, because all the signs look like foreign alphabets and my brain can never seem to unscramble the letters. The sky stands above me but I know it’s fake. I’m unable to make out a single cloud, it’s just an unending dome of infinite gray. There is no breeze and time seems to be frozen, but maybe it’s because the water isn’t running. It must be the off-season. Too bad I can’t feel the cold. I’d rather feel the sharpness of winter instead of this still untouched nothing. And when did it get so foggy in here? Has it always been like this? It’s probably been slowly creeping in since I got here. But I don’t need to worry about it, there are no fears here. Over time I’ve come to know the borders of the park pretty well. I found the fence when I climbed to the top of the biggest water slide. I could barely see it through the mist but nonetheless it was in my sights now. I was scared if I got back down to the pavement I wouldn’t be able to find it again. So instead I jumped from the top of the tallest slide in hopes of finding the way out. Miraculously I didn’t fall, instead I gently floated to the bottom. Levitating. Like the whole park was somehow baby-proofed and I was incapable of hurting myself here. When I got to the fence, I tried to look past the metal bars but it was just a white blanket of nothing. I guess this is where all the fog was coming from. Eventually, I just kept climbing things and jumping off. It was the most fun I've had since I’ve been here, and I felt divine, like I was the only thing in the whole park that was allowed to defy gravity. After a while, I was unable to make out the silhouettes of different slides, or even the snow cone stand. I was blindly stumbling around looking for the inflatable plastic tubes, like a kid with water in their goggles. The fog started to swallow the entire waterpark whole. Yet the smell of sunscreen only grew stronger. Maybe I was going somewhere new, somewhere I could feel the sun. Soon, this fog would entrap me in its white emptiness until it becomes so bright I would be forced to become something else entirely. Or finally, end up at another place, where I would never have to be anybody ever again.
Veronica Barboza's personal essay won first prize in the Eleventh Annual Humanities & Sciences Undergraduate Writing Contest. Her poem, "Why Do the Stars Twinkle?" is also published in this issue. Veronica is a Junior majoring in Film at the School of Visual Arts. She is originally from Houston, Texas. "A lot of my work is inspired by the environment I grew up in," Veronica says. "Coming from the wide expanse of Texas to densely packed New York, I realized that it doesn't mater the population--people will feel lonely no matter where they go."
Judges Xan Price & Tim Leonido had this to say about Veronica's prize-winning entry: "In this meditative and dreamy essay, the afterlife is revealed to be a continuation of the sorts of public spaces that we pass through unthinkingly during ordinary life. There are no sacred symbols or lost loved ones here. Instead, a dead soul moves through a quiet diner, an abandoned shopping mall, and a foggy theme park. Uncanny yet hopeful, these forgotten places seem to be a gateway to transformation."