NIA LAMBERT


Kansas City, MO / Educator, Artist & Friend  Proactive self-isolation, social-distancing, employment at-risk
Nia is a black female educator, artist and child activist living in the Midwest/Great Plains region.

At the time of submission the state of MO has 6 confirmed cases with 0 deaths and 0 recoveries.



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I'm getting dressed in a bathroom in the back of the house. It has large vessel sinks and a massive factice cologne bottle sitting on the countertop. I hear honking round back and I think it's for me; if it is, they're early. I hear a knock at a door and I race to the peephole; it's not who I thought it'd be. There's a woman staring back at me through the other side of the peephole. After a moment she backs away to wait in the hallway at an appropriate distance. I watch as one, two, three...10 people join her. Waiting for me. I back away slowly and rush to finish getting dressed. The car is honking louder. I wish he would just come upstairs to rescue me.

(6/4/2020)

I open the front door, presumably stepping out to smoke. This is odd because in waking-life, I smoke in the backyard. Something flutters past my foot — a baby bunny. The bunny is grey. The front room is dark and I can't see it very well but when the streetlights hit it just right I can see it hopping around the living room. I try to catch it but it's gone, out through the front door, in a flash. I'm at school again; in a chair with the beige desk attached, huge headphones on my head while I sit facing the board. I'm being chastised by a white administrator because she thinks I can't hear her talking about me. I put her in her place. I become her target.

(25/3/2020 )


Las Vegas is where I grew up, this setting looked a lot like that. I look out the window and I see my stalker in the street, waiting for me like he wants me to come play. He's shouting but I can't hear anything he's saying. I make my way outside, running and stumbling into the street, onto the grass at the park that used to be down the street from my 3rd grade home. Wandering further, I find myself at the top of a grassy knoll; at the bottom a long row of men, of various ages, pointing and jeering at us from the sidewalk. They're choosing who leaves with them. I look to the side and I find myself flanked by several other girls my age in the style or manner of a brothel. I sense my turn is coming and I take this chance to make my escape, racing to the bottom of the knoll.

(16/3/2020)