SAI MARIE JOHNSON

Sai Marie Johnson is an Oregon novelist, independent journalist, and freelance designer with over a decade’s worth of experience.

She has worked with NYT, USA Today, and Amazon’s best-selling authors in addition to providing consulting on author services, public relations, marketing, and branding.

A passionate activist and author Sai Marie Johnson has dedicated her life to the advocacy of of important issues such as social justice, racism, sexism, human trafficking and genetic research for Duchenne’s Muscular dystrophy.

She has a reputation for asking the tough questions and holding people accountable at the highest levels.

IT CUTS DEEP

The silence is deafening.

Every sunrise seems to bring another story, another stolen sister, another daughter ripped from the heart of our community.

This genocide, this plague of violence against our Indigenous women, girls, and Two-Spirits, tears at the very fabric of our existence.

In the face of this horror, some might say it’s us versus them. But in the quiet corners of the internet, in the shared tears and outrage on social media, a different story unfolds. Here, connections blossom, unexpected bridges are built.

Biracial and White sisters reach out, yearning to reconnect with their roots, hearts heavy with the weight of history.

They offer their skills, their voices, their very selves to the fight.

It cuts deep, the sting of rejection.

To be told your pain isn’t real, your desire to help just a performance.

We are all hurting, all yearning for the day this violence ends.

Who are we to turn away a helping hand, even if its skin doesn’t match our own?

This isn’t about trophies or accolades.

This is about unity, about a tapestry woven from the threads of our shared grief and unwavering determination.

Every voice matters, every connection amplifies the cries of our missing sisters.

Yes, there will be those who exploit tragedy for their own gain.

We must be wary, but let’s not drown out the chorus of genuine support with suspicion.

Let’s not chase away allies in the very hour we need them most.

Let this social media web we weave not be a net of exclusion, but a net of strength, a net that catches and lifts us all.

Every tear, every share, every connection is a prayer for justice, a whispered promise to the ancestors, to our stolen sisters, that we will not rest until they are all brought home.

Don’t silence the voices that rise in support.

Let them join ours, and together, let us drown out the deafening silence with the roar of a united movement.

THE DREAMSCAPER’S HARVEST

It was just a dream.

Yet, as I sat up peering around my room the sweat pouring down my brow and the steady thumpity, thump, thump, thump!

If you have ever heard the drowning sound of your pulse pounding in your areas only amplified by the bewildering of your heart beating wildly against your ribs – that was the condition of my present state. My eyes frantic and fearful from what I’d dreamed – wandered aimlessly, raking in every crook, every cranny, and every formulated shadow that existed in the space.

Four walls – a box that held me trapped amid pitch black save for the flickering reflection of the tiny nightlight I left on nightly. There was a strange, and sudden prickling that arose upon the nape of my neck.

A chilling feeling that I couldn’t shake though I tried – and the creeping drip of my sweat slowly dripped into my eye blinding me from the salt nearly instantly.

Reaching for my phone, I shook my head and attempted to blow it off.

Whoosh!

A sudden rush of air blew over my hand and the phone fell to the floor with a loud thud. I groaned and stood slowly, weakly, from my bed, squinting at the floor only to feel that sudden rush of air now steadily flowing against the nape of my neck. A sound not unlike bones cracking began to snap behind me, and I felt myself instant upturned as a coiling appendage swept me off my feet. I screeched – only to find my mouth suddenly invaded by a coiling and inky whip-like tail with a forked end that hooked into my throat and left me dangling and gagged while I began to drool – spittle and blood suddenly mixing to pour down over my chin and bathe my throat in the thick, sticky fluid. A raspy breath hit my ears and unable to move as I was bound, I whirled around in the air only to come face to face – my eyes wide as quarters and white as the starkest walls as they fell upon my captor.

The reality of what I had run from in the dark recesses of my greying nightmare now had me in a wretched position, writhing as I slowly began to suffocate, and the stench of putridity hit my nostrils causing me to feel both nauseous and light-headed.

The creature, a thing I could not identify as anything other than a cryptid had fangs as long as my forearms, and the saliva that dripped from the being’s teeth dripped with the odor of sulfur. Just like one might imagine the scent of fire and brimstone.

Putrefying and intense, the creature stared back at me with deep-set eyes – a dark crimson, near-inky pigment that filled the entirety of its eye sockets and stared back at me with an empty, grimacing almost smirk-like expression. I felt a sudden wetness flick outward at me, sure that I had been spat upon, and squinting my eyes closed the next thing that drew over me was a slimy, slithering appendage and I grunted, feeling my Adam’s apple press into the tightening appendage around my throat and mouth and to my horror I realized it was the serpentine creature’s tongue!

My hips began to wiggle, as I attempted anything to move away from the disgusting-smelling tongue, but it was useless. My body simply twirled around like a lopsided Piñata having been beaten half to death. If I hadn’t already been scared, I was now experiencing sheer terror with palpable and stifling certainty.

The creature’s tongue slithered continually across my face – a wet and sickening feeling washing over me with every flicking trace. It was as if it was savoring the taste of my skin – and with every motion, I could feel my heartbeat intensify such that I now wondered if it might explode. A welcome escape from the dreadful and antagonizing fear that now held me in the wrenching grasp of the entity.

Panic had me now so paralyzed that my former movements completely ceased, yet my eyes still felt as if they had been peeled back against my eyelids – nearly popping from my skull.

And still, the coiling appendage that had first gagged me seemed to tighten expelling whatever remaining bits of air that had ballooned within my lungs. Another wave of nauseating breath from the entity hit me in the face then and then with a sudden lurch I watched in horror as the creature’s jaws began to separate – further revealing those needle-sharp fangs that now seemed to be as close to my face as my nose and I could feel the pricking pinpoints of one as it slowly scraped against my flesh.

I suddenly blinked my eyes closed and prepared for what I knew would be the inevitable and it was then that everything faded into black.

My ears, prickled at the sounds of crunching bones and in my mind, I knew the creature’s jaws had separated even more – my suspicion solidified when the tearing of my skin suddenly broke through the muscle, and I heard a new snapping sound. The eerie sound of my skull splitting, and I knew the entity had bitten into my head now, but I had no way to fight it off.

“Am I going to die?”

I wondered, then hoping that the pain I was feeling as my brain was penetrated at last by the creature’s canines, I felt a sudden sensation of euphoria.

Crunch – the sound of my skull collapsing was all that I could hear now though my pulse had accompanied it like a low drumming accompaniment to the main acoustics that banged in my eardrums. On either side, I felt as if my entire head was now inside the beast’s maw and any hope I’d had of an escapade from my nightmare upon waking instantly faded – as did my consciousness and the creature consumed the essence of me in one chomping bite.

The End.

Sai Marie Johnson © 2025

DEAFENING CRIES

Teardrops from the skies

Wailing mourns

A distant drum rumbling

A thunderous striking pain

Heartbreak dawning like a crack of lightning

Through the rain

Another life taken

Spirit lifted to the sky

And so few who seem to care

Forsaken

Forgotten

Robbed

When will this crime end

Of all their sins

They can never be absolved

Resolutions made

Laws to uphold

Broken by the very ones elected

Beating us down,

Removing our faith,

Attempting to erase

Existence

Resistance is necessary

Or fates would be sealed

Someday, I pray, that hate will be repealed

Undo all the wrong

Break free

To see

The way they made

Isn’t the way it was meant to be.

THERE’S A SADNESS THAT HITS SO DEEP

It came about in blindness

A grief interwoven into the threads of all

That’s made me – me

Another soul taken – far before ever one should be

And madness ensues with the dismissive wave

Of those in authority.

Congregating, as we are – why do so many fail to see

The urge for truth – boiling, like a rage unsilenced inside me?

Cries from within dare to perk up

Demanding answers for what has been done

And still it seems that those forces remain unanswered – as if they’re goading,

Like they’ve won.

As long as I breathe, I’ll challenge these fiends

And never will I just remain quiet.

Some of us were born to do more than just exist –

we were brought here to try it

To try to challenge this evil force

And stand up with courage in the face of distress

And fight for truth to set us all free

Til the end of the end –

As we all deserve to be.

THE SQUIRREL AND THE LADY

There comes a point in life when reality must be faced. That morning, this morning, any morning. When didn’t matter, but it still had to happen. Why? Why is it that every early morning you crawl out onto that particular limb and stare for hours at the crawling creature who gnaws on your chosen trees leaves? Wager to say that for the past few weeks its been a relentless repetition in actions that make no sense on the natural level. Animals simply do not fall in love with insects. Or do they? Perhaps, in retrospect, I write you now to explain that very theory to you in full detail. Let’s see if my perception impedes upon your reality enough to call it like it really is?

Yes, indeed, you are infatuated by the very bright red six-legged beast that lurks on the branch you sit on. Why else would you go there first, of all places? Surely you know that gathering time has approached, and if you don’t keep on task, you’ll starve this winter. And this is no jest, and yet you continue to simply stare endlessly as this shiny creature with black spots captures your gaze once again.

The look in your eyes is like stars crashing down to the earth into a black abyss. Nothing and everything exists within the darkness of your pupil, and all this I’ve gathered only from watching your antics for so long. It’s unnatural and yet here I am, a witness to its development. Quite a cute experience nonetheless, but I still wonder how you can love something you’ve no way to connect with other than to stare at? Or perhaps lift between your human-like hands, that possess such unique dexterity in the animal kingdom that maybe, just maybe, they could be used to caress the object you so desire. I can’t yet know this, but what I do know is somehow I’ve become the unknowing witness to an oddity within nature: the existence of love between two separate species that simply ought not be.

Friend, you’re in love with a bug. Not that I have an issue with this, certainly in this day and age we should accept that anyone, thing, or creature ought to be able to love whatever they wish. In your situation, however, I just hope your infatuation doesn’t drive you to the point of an accidental squish. I leave you this note now in hopes you’ll gain your courage. For I am sure that today, like every other day, will be yet another day spent staring idly at the thing you yearn for most: the ladybug on the limb.

Your Friend,

The Human in the Window

The note was left settled right beside the squirrel’s nest, and when it arose the next morning the squirrel squeaked and tore at the paper. As its nimble fingers ripped the envelope open, beady eyes settled upon the letter, and with every word read, the squirrel began to act more anxious. It fidgeted and waved its tail, curling it in and out every few seconds, only to lash it out in a whiplike motion once again.

Finally, whatever words had to be inked across the page were absorbed, and as the squirrel digested them it bounced down the limb, skittering down the trunk of the tree it lived in and hopping across the backyard towards the tree the ladybug lived on. It was a bit smaller than the other tree, but the squirrel made it up to that spot in a flash. Brown fur fluttered by so quickly that it was almost impossible to tell where the tree began, and the animal ended. The squirrel slowed to a crawl and inched slowly along the branch. Sure enough, there the ladybug was once again: bright, shiny, and beautifully bright red. Just as the squirrel remembered it. The squirrel dipped its nose down to the branch and nudged the tiny bug gently, eyes fluttering to a close as it caressed the little creature.

The sound of a low purr emitted from the squirrel’s chest, and as its eyes parted to view the bright red bug again the squirrel found the ladybug had crawled up onto its nose and stayed. Happy and content as ever the Squirrel skittered back down the branch and the trunk of the tree carrying the ladybug on its nose all the way back to its own tree! Amazingly enough, the ladybug never moved a single inch from its perch upon the squirrel’s nose, and with the object of its desire in tow the squirrel made way up his tree, across his branch, and dove deep into his nest within the wood.