MICROFICTION BY: Jaqua Seay
ABOUT THE DESIGN
"Look Up," by Alfonso Torres
This is a poster design, out of many, that I created where the goal is to design joy. I was inspired by a statement that, as artists, graphic designers, and illustrators, we have the power to shape how people feel and perceive the world.
If each of us takes even a few minutes to create something positive or uplifting, we can truly make a better tomorrow, embracing that idea and creating posters meant to inspire and bring a small smile. This piece, in particular, serves as a friendly reminder to keep your head up and you don’t need to stay glued to the ground all the time.
ABOUT THIS STORY
Introduction by Prof. Dan Ryan
What would you do with a "superpower?" You've been asked this before; if you have a child, you've been asked it many, many times. In my Introduction to Creative Writing class, I use it as a Worldbuilding prompt, and my students write about time travel and never again being late, of teleporting to exotic locales for free, of reading the minds of those (seemingly) closest to them. Few of us would use these powers for good. We're only human.
Except Jaqua, apparently, who wrote this gut punch of a story about life, death, and a mother's grief in under 300 words. Jaqua's command of voice, narrative torque (essential in a microfiction piece), and atmosphere is superb, but it's her narrator's arc that will stay with you. Here is a person "blessed" with godly powers realizing—slowly, sweetly—that they are the least important person in the room.
Thank you for dragging us to hell and (quite literally) back, Jaqua. This is why we read.
After a restless night I decided to roam the hospital. It was always unpredictable. Sometimes so loud and urgent, other times eerily quiet.
I saw him there, as I often did. Black hood, black eyes staring expressionless over a patient.
“This one didn’t want to go,” D said.
“No one’s ever really ready. He looks young.”
“Yeah, well, he should have been more careful on that bike.”
I had no reply to that.
A woman suddenly entered the room. She didn’t have to say who she was, I heard that cry many times before. Parents aren’t meant to outlive their children. When they do, it rips a hole in the universe.
She looked at me, uttered one word.
“Please.”
I knew what she was asking. And I did have the power to heal. Snatched countless souls from the brink of death. But to resurrect? That, I had never attempted.
I laid my hands on him all the same. I concentrated all my energy on this boy’s body.
D turned around to leave. His job done.
Then I felt warmth under my fingers. The boy fluttered his eyes, confused.
“Baby,” she told him. “I got you.” And he wept in her arms.
I stared at my hands, wondering if it was me who raised him or something greater. As I looked at them, I realized it really didn’t matter.
