Patrick Yeboah

Clare Sestanovich
Creative Writing: Introduction to Fiction & Poetry 006
February 7, 2017
Dj Vu
Im walking down Spring Street, just trying to get my mind off of things. Its been a long

week and all I want to do is get some peace of mind and some retail therapy. I forgot how good

everyone looks in SoHo. I still dont understand it, to be quite honest. I feel weird today. I cant

quite place whats wrong, but something just feelsoff. I swat the feeling away like an annoying

mosquito. Im going along on my way, getting in the mind frame to head home and get started on

some homework, when I realize Im all alone. Not a single person is anywhere to be seen. I get a

cold icy feeling thats running along the length of my spineall the way from the base of my

head to my tailboneand I register this feeling. Its a feeling Ive felt time and time again

throughout the years. I know whats coming, so I drop my bags, squeeze my fists, close my eyes,

and turn around. In the black world Ive just created, endless thoughts are running through my

stream of consciousness. I know what will happen, but Im not ready. Ive never been ready.

After what feels like minutes, I open my eyes, ready for what I know is to come, and there she is.

She visits me every so often, only announced by a chill along my spine, but Im not sure why.

What about me is special? Why me? Shes just as old and ragged as the first time I saw her those

many years ago. Shes always smiling with a mouth full of nothingness. No teeth, no tongue, no

voice. Her eyes have always been black, empty pools that want to swallow me whole. Her arms

are stretched out, always welcoming me into an unwanted embrace. I want to turn and run, I

always want to turn and run, but I am always compelled by some force to go and embrace her. I
hold her. My vision goes black. I come to and Im standing on Spring Street still, surrounded by

people. I saw her again. Dj vu, an old friend.