Wednesday, February 14, 2018, 12:00 pm
The intercom cracks over the PA, “Happy Valentines Day, students,” says
a booming voice. “May cupid strike your heart today.”
2:19 pm
Nikolas Cruz’s footsteps slam the ground
A 223-caliber AR-15-style rifle in a soft case by his side
With a clear trajectory down the familiar hall, he marches
like a stolid robot, with one job
To kill
He throws open the door, 20 eyes point directly at him, then at his gun.
BAM
one is dead.
their faces become ghosts
petrified, plan-less, pain filled
2:24
The fire alarm is pulled down
The discord of a wailing siren is followed by a procession
They disperse and he shoots
BAM
another dead
petrified screams,
covering,
BAM
another
BAM
a teacher protecting his students
2:26 pm
The intercom crackles over the PA. The once booming voice trembles,“We have an active
shooter. Take cover now. May nothing strike you.”
2:33 pm
He races
Students run, they are
thrashing and
fighting and
sobbing and
trying
trying to play an unwinnable game of hide
and go seek
BAM
a boy accepted into his dream college
BAM
another
BAM
Flung
across the ground from a bullet’s strike
3:00 pm
The intercom crackles over the PA, “I repeat the school is on lockdown.
Ambulances are
stationed in the front. The police are here. Stay under cover.”
3:40 pm
BAM
another dies from blood loss
BAM
another in the hospital hours later,
BAM,
BAM,
BAM,
a final.
Thursday, February 15th 2018, 6:00 am
Nikolas Cruz is charged for seventeen counts of premeditated murder
seventeen lives done
seventeen families
seventeen innocent dreamers
slaughtered.
Nikolas makes his first court appearance in Broward County via a jail video. He says nothing
except to confirm his name.
15
When I was 12, I thought 15 was the perfect age
But is it?
Most are sophomores or freshmen
Studying and homework, new relationships,first jobs
Learning to drive and pineapple cups
These are the times people look back on
Adults reassure me 15 is perfect
15 is perfect
until i’m 16…
How shall I leave?
To another plane
To possibly be reborn into something new
How should I make this journey?
To carve it as my own
And maybe rise to the top and never stop
How does this world spin?
Does it spin around money?
Maybe love?
Perhaps hate?
We ask questions
Many every single day
Whether or not they are out loud
The answer to every single one of those questions
May be silent
Because change never
Stops
Our minds remain lost
In a forest of wonder
In a unique state
Until one day…
We are found
¡Mamá! I shouted. It was so wonderful to see
someone familiar again.
The guards, white as abuela’s
mejillas, Stared at me as I ran
down The hallway of the
enclosure.
I saw my mamá and papá,
Tears in their eyes, We
sprinted towards each other,
As though we were
maratonistas Breaking
through the ribbon,At the
finish line.
Earlier this year, We had decided to go to
the land of the Gringos, Live the American
Dream – el Sueño Americano.
But mamá and papá were taken from
me – No, I was taken from them.
All of a sudden I felt these hands around me, As
though my abuelito was hugging me, His warm
chubby hands holding me As the smell of pan
dulce – sweet bread, engulfed us both.
But something was different about those hands,
They hurt.
I looked behind me and saw a man, half
hombre half toro.
I tried to pull away to no avail – And
screamed, “Mamá, papá
ayúdenme”
Suddenly memories flashed through my head The
tortillas we used to make together, The time we spent
looking at the sunset, at my favorite playa And the
smell of my abuelitos… And then the memories
disappeared.
It occurs to me now that I won’t be there
anymore, Under the sol mexicano, Laughing
and eating tamales with my cousins, Tíos,
tías, abuelos, abuelas, and other relatives.
And now I might never even fulfill the
so-called Sueño Americano.
You need to wake up
Come back to reality
Right now, everything is perfect
Your favorite scene is playing
You don’t want it to end
You press snooze again
Each time, it’s harder to get back to that place
To your perfect scene
You slowly open your eyes
Because you know you’re running late
You try to close your eyes again
But when you do
Nothing… you get nothing
You try to start it playing again
Your perfect scene
It won’t come back to you
And the chances for it to come back again
Tonight when you fall asleep, are low
Your dream is gone
Your perfect scene is gone