Saturday, September 20, 2014


By, Melissa R. Mendelson

Another sketch gone bad
because there is too much of everyone
inside her mind,
so the mimic can come out to play.
Another erased drawing
because change isn’t allowed,
or she will change.
Another deformed stick figure
because I can’t see her
because the past clouds up the page.
Finally, I am left with a blank page,
and my pencil itches to draw her.
But I must erase her completely,
if I want to create a new model
that will offer her what she needs
to be the picture on the final page.

Friday, September 12, 2014



Lyrics by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Can you see heaven
up there in the sky?
Can you see the light
through those dark clouds?
Have you ever looked up
past this cold world
and tried to just fly?

My beating heart
breaks against my chest
with every hope that rises
and falls back down.
Each beat
is a wave
that carries my heart
above this world.

And the sun melts into the sea.
Golden lights become the rainbow over me.
And I can see heaven
in the distance.
The clouds have parted,
and there it is.
I see heaven before me.

Have you ever seen heaven
in the eyes of the one,
who you have given your heart to
and wait for his love in return?

Have you ever seen past those dark clouds
that hover over you
with each passing day
as you struggle to find yourself?
Ever try to stand on your own
and away from what holds you down?
Are your eyes open
to the world around you,
or do you keep them closed,
afraid to see your life?


Heaven is in the heart, mind and soul.
It is the love that we wish to always feel.
Heaven is the silent word
that keeps us going
when this world falls down.


Check out my book of lyrics, Music That Calls My Heart Home here:

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Flirting with Revolution

Flirting with Revolution
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

It was hot again.  Why did it have to be hot again?  It was the second week of September.  Where was the fall weather?  The trees were already changing, and the leaves were falling down.  But pardon my words, why the hell was it eighty degrees today?

The shuttle broke down a block away.  We had no choice but to walk the distance.  Nobody spoke, and there was no point looking at their faces.  Their hands were either shoved into their pockets or clinging to their books and book bags.  Our clogs echoed loudly against concrete, and I tried not to trip.  I would have moved faster, but I was so damn hot.  Pardon my words again.  I felt like I was choking on the clay, and I wanted to remove my mask, my Nahuat.  But it was forbidden.  Coming here should have been too.

Big, yellow beetles rose up into view.  Kids poured out of them like rivers.  They screamed and laughed, unburdened, but that’s why we called them, Feriors.  Their attention rose from the melee to us, and the laughter and conversation died.  They heard that we were coming.  They knew that we were coming.  They didn’t believe it or want to, but here we come.  If we just kept our population down, we would not need to be here, but the men of my town knew better.  They shuffled some money, maybe a lot over to the superintendent of schools, and here we were.  And they stared at us like we were the aliens.
None of us said a word.  We marched through the throng of kids with our Nahuats poked and smacked.  Harsh words struck our backs.  Cruel feet would later kick our chairs and shins.  Words that I would never ever dare say bloodied our ears, chased by more wicked comments.  None of us responded, but I wanted to.  I wanted to scream at them that I did not want to be here, but I could not step out of line.  Even here in their town, I could not step out of line.

The morning dragged on.  Constant remarks and words that I will not repeat bombarded me.  Endless pokes and smacks and kicks.  Ugly glances.  Hatred.  Absolute hatred, but what did I ever do to them?  Nothing, and most of the teachers ignored me.  They were angry too that we were here, and they did not care if we learned or not.  Only one of them was different.  Ms. Martin, and she nearly pulled me out of the chair, forcing me to stand in front of all those Feriors, and I was more disgusted at her touch.

“Tell us about your…  Culture,” she said as she sat down behind her nice, large, safe desk.

“Yeah.  What planet do you come from,” one kid yelled, but the look on the teacher’s face quieted him quickly.

I looked at Ms. Martin for a long time.  Then, I noticed the blackboard behind us.  “Welcome to Social Studies” was written in beautiful, white chalk.  Maybe, she wasn’t signaling me out.  Maybe, I was a project.  Either way, I was stuck standing in front of them, so I did the only thing that I could think of.  I started to talk.

“We can’t hear her with that mask on.  Take off the mask,” another student demanded, and the rest started to chant that last statement.  “Take off the mask,” that student repeated.

“Enough!”  Ms. Martin was now on her feet, looking more angry at them than at me.  “You know that she can’t.  It’s forbidden.”

“It’s bullshit,” a student said from the back.

“One more comment or statement, and we will have a pop quiz right now.  I will test you on last year’s studies.”  The students’ groans and moans was the response that she sought, and they finally fell quiet.  “Tell us about your culture,” she now said to me.

“When we are born, we are not shown to the world for a year.  Our mather does the same.  One year after birth, the clay is first applied to our heads, and the world meets us.”

“Does your mother wear clay,” a student asked, chased by a snicker.

“No.  She is married.  She has three blue lines on her cheeks.  Two on the left.  One on the right.  The ones on the left are for the boys.  The ones on the right are for the girls.”

“So, when do you take that…  Mask off?”

“When I am thirteen, which will be in less than a year.”

“Then, what,” a student asked.

“Then, the black veil.  Girls from 13 through 18 wear the black veil until they are married.”

“Married?  No wonder, they’re fucking like bunnies,” a boy in the front said, and I tried to cover my ears, blocking out that horrid word.  I failed.

Ms. Martin was about to scold him when the bell screamed.  I was so grateful.  I raced to my seat, nearly tripping over at least two feet, but I made it.  And I made it into the hall and enjoyed my half hour recess.  Now, I just had to survive the afternoon.

Recess came and went.  We all stood together.  Our backs were kept to them, those that would never accept us, and we didn’t want them to.  None of us spoke.  We didn’t have to.  We didn’t want to be here, but we were.  And when that bell rang again, we had no choice but to return back inside.

English wasn’t so bad.  The teacher reminded me of what they called a nerd, and he talked and talked and talked.  I tried to follow him, but my attention slowly moved over to a girl sitting a few rows up ahead.  She twirled a long, black lock of hair around her finger.  Her face was beautiful, painted like her fingers and toe nails.  She smiled at the boys, and they smiled back.  Part of me was drawn to her, but I could never ever be like her, so unburdened.  I could not have a boy look at me like that.  No boy would see my face until he purposely or accidentally removed my black veil, and I’ve heard horror stories of horrible marriages, where a boy accidentally removed a girl’s veil.  I did not want that to happen to me.

I envied the boys in my town.  They wore the clay masks, the Nahuats too until they turned thirteen.  Then, they were free to show their faces.  Once they turned twenty-one, they had to grow a beard.  It was forbidden to just have a mustache.  Whether short or long, they had to have a beard.  It was just our way, and I still envied them.  But the black veil would be better than this damn heavy, hot mask.

The day finally ended.  I didn’t know what was heavier.  My book bag or my mask.  The shuttle would not pick us up here.  We had to walk at least a mile until we saw it.  Cars blasted their horns as the shuttle swerved our way.  They were ridiculous.  Couldn’t they see that our ride was trying to get to us?  They were so rude, and I was so grateful to board that shuttle.  But my thoughts and feelings crashed right afterward.  I would have to do this tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.  I was trapped.  I was in hell, pardon my words.  When I am married, I have the option of finishing school or not, but until then, here I was.  And there I will be.

“Hi, honey.”  My mather’s voice nearly erased the day.  “How was school?”

“Horrible.”  I slammed the front door a little too hard behind me.  “Absolutely, horrible.  Can I please remove this mask now?”

My mather stood nearby with my almost one-year-old brother in her arms.  The dark blue lines on her face stood out against the shadows filling in the corners.  Her soft, brown eyes clouded for a moment, and then she slowly nodded.  She rushed toward the windows and pulled down every single blind, blocking the world from my sight.  Then, she turned off the lights.  “Take the mask off,” she whispered.

“You’ve seen my face before,” I said.

“And your father beat me bloody, remember?”  Those words stung my heart.  “Now, why was today so horrible?”  She continued to cradle my brother in her arms.  “It couldn’t be that bad.”

“Are you kidding?”  I now held the mask in my hands.  “They hate me.  They hate us.  They hate that we are there.  They don’t want us there in their town.  They want us here away from them, and this is going to be a nightmare.  They’re going to torture me.  I don’t want to be there or near them.  They hate me.”

“Don’t worry, Bekka.  They won’t be there that long.”  She froze a second later.  “Don’t tell your father that I said that.  Don’t!”

It was forbidden for the women to eavesdrop on the men’s conversations behind closed doors.  They ran the town.  Their business was their business.  The women had no part in it, and if caught spying on the men, they were beaten.  One woman was even killed, and murder is the Sin.  The man’s head was shaved completely, and on the back of his head, he was branded with an M.  Then, he was banished from the town, and nobody would speak of him again.

“Don’t tell your father,” she cried.

“I won’t.  I remember what he did to you before.”  I looked down at the mask in my hands.  “There was this girl in English.”

“Girl?  A Ferior?”  She resumed rocking my brother to sleep.  “What about this girl?”

“She was beautiful.”  My mother paused at that.  “She had beautiful hair.  Her face was beautiful and painted.  The boys looked at her…”

“Bekka!”  I froze at her tone.  “Do not flirt with Revolution.”  Now, I was confused.  “You are there to learn, and learn only.  Do not be influenced.”

“I’m not a Ferior.”

“If you let them inside, you will be, and then…”

“Then,” I repeated.

“Then, I don’t know,” my mather whispered.  “Your brother’s asleep, and I need to rest.”  She hurried out of the room.

“I’m not a Ferior,” I repeated.

Mirrors were forbidden in the house except for the bathroom.  I felt dirty just thinking of school, so I went inside to wash my hands and face.  I placed the mask gently beside the sink and welcomed the cool water against my skin.  I looked up into the mirror a moment later, and I didn’t see me.  I saw the girl from English.  I should turn off the lights and put the mask back on, but I couldn’t.  She was beautiful.  I was beautiful, but no.  No!  I would not, could not think like that, and I grabbed the mask, snapped the lights off and stormed away.  But that image, that girl…  I couldn’t forget it.  Maybe, maybe I was flirting with Revolution.

Wednesday, September 03, 2014

Last Sunrise at the End

Last Sunrise at the End by, Melissa R. Mendelson This is the last sunrise that I will ever see. My world has gone dark, burnt beyond repair, and there is no clinging to what I once loved. I’ve reached the end, forced to move on again, but to where, I wish I knew. And now the breeze quiets my soul, and I bathe in sunlight fading fast. This is the last sunrise that I will ever see.

Monday, May 26, 2014

The BlackOut Chapter One

Chapter One:

The last sounds heard were gasps of breath.  Dirt poured from above, a god-awful sound.  Darkness settled in for the long, long night, years to come, and sleep was just cruel.  Jagged breaths followed.  A sob, a scream, and then nothing but silence.  Silence would be my only friend.

It was dark still.  My original prison was ripped away and replaced with this one.  Metal, decayed walls.  Rotted, metal floors.  Fluorescent lights gone dark.  Still, I was free to move, clawing at the only door.  But I’ve waited this long.  I could wait longer, and finally, my captor returned.

“Why is it dark in here?”  He reached for the switch on the wall and flicked it up and down again and again.  “The lights were working yesterday.”

“I wasn’t awake yesterday.”  He froze, nearly dropping a tray of food that I guess was meant for me.  “Did you know that the human body generates an electric current?”  He shook as I edged closer.  “I can feel it pulsing and pulsing.  It’s a beautiful sensation.”  Now, he dropped the tray.

“Hera.”  I froze.  How did he know who I was?  “You don’t understand.  You have to hear me out.”  He nearly screamed when I pressed my hand against his chest.  “Please, don’t do this.  We have to tell you about the mission.  It’s why we found you.  It’s important.”  I now pressed a finger against his lips, hushing him still.  “You need to know before you go out there.”

“How long was I buried alive out there for?  How long?”

“Thirty years.”

“Thirty years?”  Now, I wanted to scream.  “My father?”

“Dead.  We thought we lost you too.  It took a long time to find you, but we did.”  Now, he relaxed.  “We need you.  We need you to finish your father’s work.”

“You made a grave mistake, my friend.”  I held his gaze for a moment.  “There is no we,” and I pressed my hand against his chest, absorbing his energy.  And he screamed.  “Oh, how I have missed that sound,” and I smiled as he dropped to the floor.  “I should have asked if there were more of him outside.”  I kicked the tray aside not wanting food, but I craved something else, something that I always needed, energy.

The door was open.  I stepped outside, and as I did, the lights flickered.  I stretched my hands outward, and the lights responded.  Energy zapped through me, filling me to my core, and the lights went out.  Darkness.  That would be my gift to this world, but nobody stepped into my path.  He was my only captor, which disappointed me slightly, but it didn’t matter.  I was free.

Outside, I found nothing but wasteland.  The war had happened just like my father said it would, but he too was a causality of it.  My heart flickered, but just for a moment.  He said that all would not be lost, if I survived.  They should have killed me when they had the chance.  Instead, they buried me alive in that coffin-like capsule, praying that nobody came looking, but someone, they did.  And look at this, a wall.  Did they really think that this wall would keep someone like me out?

“No,” I said with a smile.  “It won’t,” and the wall shook under my hands, energy that nearly sent me falling back.  “Wow.  You pack a punch, but I needed that.”  And the wall shuddered one last time.  “Thirty years.  This energy almost made up for that,” and I entered the city.  “Now, to begin where the war had ended.  Who is going to stop me?”

Night was falling fast.  Lights lit up the city.  It was pretty to look at, but darkness was descending fast.  As she edged closer to civilization, the darkness followed.  It would be her gift to them for without technology, what would we become?  Monsters, but that was not her mission.  Her mission had just begun.

Check out the entire series here: