Thursday, December 31, 2009
CJT’s Word Vamp
I was walking in an alley, it was late and the sun had already dropped below the edge of the city. Buildings stood stories high, staring down at me and making me feel minuscule. I had somewhere in mind to go, and was worried that I was going to be late. I was dressed to impress with a black blouse, grey skirt and heels, covered with a black jacket to keep off the chill, and a folder in hand. Running a hand through my fire red hair, then checked my watch, the time screamed at me to hurry, I began walking even faster, cursing myself for not wearing boots or calling a cab.
I could see a street light ahead and was making my way towards it when I heard someone call out, “Someone help me, please, help me!” followed by sobs. I turned my attention to the direction the call had come from and began making my way through the trash lined alley to my right. I’m going to be so late! I thought to myself as I rounded the edge of the building. The scene before me was harrowing. In front of me was a woman, beaten and bleeding, smelling of the trash around her, most likely a vagabond who had come here to find something to eat or a place to sleep that was a little more protected than the street or a park bench. Her clothes were in tatters, and covered in wet blood. Bruises were beginning to color her face; a large bruise on her right cheek and a black left eye were completed with fat lip that was swelling to an enormous size.
“God, what happened?” I leaned down trying not to get my skirt soiled. “Do I need to call the police or an ambulance?”
“No, I know I’m going to die, but I have to deliver a message to you.” Her voice had dropped from a high wail down to almost a whisper. I helped to prop her up against a trash can, she whimpered then began explaining to me her story, starting with her attacker.
“He blended in so well with the shadows, with his dark clothes, even his hair was black. I remember thinking to myself why would anyone dress like that in knowing that they’ll be out in the middle of the night. He stayed to the shadows, he did.” She coughed, tried to clear her throat, and started again. “He was well dressed, and he slowly approached me. He asked for the book I had taken. I told him that I had taken no book.” She looked at me, her striking blue eyes bore into mine, making me feel uncomfortable. I peeled my eyes away from hers and checked my watch. I was definitely going to be late.
“I had taken a book a few days before; I had nicked it from a street cart and ran. I needed something to keep my mind occupied. I always return them after I’ve read them, and this was going to be no exception to the rule. He came close to me, and leaned into my face. He seemed so tall when talking to me, but once in my face was actually quite short. I could look him straight in the eyes, even his eyes were dark as night.” She paused, as if trying to make her words sink in.
“Yes, yes, continue please.” I was growing impatient waiting for the woman to finish her story so I could continue on my way.
“Well, he leaned in and looked me in the eyes and said, the book you took two days ago. I know you took it and I need it. I need it back, Now! I told him I had no book. He began shaking me, hard, and telling me to speak the truth to him. When I still didn’t answer him, he then began clawing, biting, and hitting me- like I would think a rabid animal would do. I tried to scream but no words could come out. I felt fear so prominent that it suffocated everything else. He beat me, and then as he was turning away told me I would live long enough to give a message. He said the person who would come to my aid was searching for a new name and that I was to tell them that they should use the name CJT. I don’t know what it means, but be warned! I should not have called out, but the pain, the pain was too great. I know I’m going to die,” she tried to reach into her coat, her hand settling on something, I looked and it was a book, “I want you to have this.” I took the book from her, put it in my purse, and stood up.
CJT, it has a nice ring to it, I’ll admit that. I pulled out my cell phone and called 9-1-1. I gave the location of the woman and my name, telling them they could contact me once I was out of my meeting. A pen name was what I had been searching for. I had a very controversial book to publish, which indirectly was where I was headed- to meet a publisher.
I left the woman sitting against the garbage can, gave her the handful of ones that were in my jacket pocket and hurried away. I really hope that he hasn’t left or thought I stood him up. I told myself.
Only a few blocks now from my destination, my breath quickened. Excitement and nervousness coursed through me as I crossed the final stretch to the building. The door, locked, was intimidating. The name scrolled on the door read: Esquire Publishing, est. 1902. I lightly fingered the gold lettering. Stepping back slightly I knocked on the door, three solid knocks. My heart pounding in my chest in anticipation kept repeating the letters in my head. .C..J..T..C..J..T.. I knew this was the name I should use.
“You kept me waiting.” A strong voice came from behind me, startled I dropped my folder on the ground. He beat me to it and handed it back to me.
“Yes, I’m sorry, There was an accident I had to attend to on my way here. I should have taken a cab-” I was rambling, and noticing his look of boredom, I fell silent.
“Well shall we go in then? Or would you rather stand outside to discuss this ‘controversial’ book of yours?” His dark eyes held mine.
“Yes, please.” I managed to let out. This was much more exciting than I had thought it to be. I swallowed hard and prayed that he couldn’t hear my pounding heart as I followed him inside and through another door with the same gold lettering on the entrance that read: Sir Leramie Esquire, Pres.
He took my jacket and motioned for me to sit down. He removed his and put it on the coat tree next to mine, then sat down on the other side of the desk. I gingerly placed the folder on his mahogany desk and stared at him wide eyed. He looked splendid in his black suit. I drew in a sharp breath.
He watched me, almost curiously for a moment before speaking again.
“Your book, Mrs. Hirschi, you wanted me to look at your book.”
Stammering something incoherent I slid the folder across the desk to him. He opened the cover and stared at it. Managing to get my voice back I weakly began to explain to him, “I have included a hard copy manuscript as well as a CD with the manuscript in PDF format.”
“I see that you do not have your name on this, is there a reason why Mrs. Hirschi?” He asked staring across the desk at me.
“Nicole will do, and that’s because I’ve been thinking about putting a pen name on this one.”
“Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin in deep thought, “well, it had better be a good one if you want it to sell or be remembered easily.”
“I’ve decided that I want to publish this, that is if you decide to publish it for me, under the name of CJT.”
“That’s it? CJT?” His dark eyes probed mine deeply as if trying to look into my soul. I shifted uncomfortably and looked down.
“Yes, I know its short, but I think it suits me and the book as well.” He nodded his head in agreement and took out a fountain pen and wrote: Written By: CJT on the front page underneath the title.
“I will take a look at this and be in touch with you in a few days.” He stood and I followed suit.
“Thank you, Mr. Esquire, I-”
“Leramie, please, and no need to thank me, at least not yet.” He shook my hand, then pulled my jacket off the tree and helped me into it. I followed him back to the entrance taking in all of the antiques and wood work that I had somehow missed on my way in. “Have a good evening then, Nicole.” Again those soul searching dark eyes held mine for a minute. Finally looking away he opened the door and I saw my way out onto the street.
Knowing that I should probably get back to where I left the dying woman, gave me the motivation to turn away from the door and begin walking. Finding the exact place I remembered leaving her, I was surprised to see no trace of her anywhere. Not even a drop of blood could be found on the ground- I was using the light of my cell phone to check. Intrigued by her sudden disappearance I opened my phone to call dispatch back to see who had come to pick up the woman. When I hit the redial button, I noticed that my last number called was one of my girlfriends from earlier that afternoon. 9-1-1 was not present on my call list.
Feeling a little shaky, and ill, I rushed as quickly as I could back to my apartment and waiting husband. I took off my jacket and heels as I stepped inside the entry and sat on the bench next to the door.
“How did it go?” My husband asked from the other room, I could hear the voice of Jim Carrey in the movie ‘Horton Hears a Who’ emanating from the Television where he and the kids were at.
“Fine, just fine.” I called back. I didn’t make mention of what I thought had happened, and went into the bedroom to change.
I slept uneasy that night; dreams of the woman kept coming back and her voice saying CJT resonated through my mind. Deciding that I couldn’t take anymore tossing, I crawled out of bed and down into the office where my computer was. I began writing the story about the dying woman and what I thought I had seen. The eerie quiet in the house kept making my thoughts stop. I decided to get my I-pod out and listen to some music to stave off the feeling of being utterly alone. Opening my purse to retrieve my I-pod, I came across the book that the woman had given me. I knew I wasn’t imagining things!
I took the book out and began reading. I kept reading until it was finished, and when I looked up the sun was just starting to peek through the window. I heard my children rising and set the book down to prepare breakfast. After getting them off to school I sat back down at my desk and looked at the book again. The words danced in front of my eyes, re-arranging themselves before me. I opened my computer and began to type what I was seeing.
The next few days went by in a blur. I spent my time typing and was now looking at a promising new novel. I was drinking a cup of coffee and typing when the phone rang.
“Nicole-” a soothing voice answered and immediately I knew who it was, “this is Leramie. I have reviewed your book and would like to setup a meeting to discuss my thoughts. Would three this afternoon work for you?”
“Yes, that will work fine.” I quickly jotted it down on my notebook.
“I’ll see you then. Oh, and please call a cab this time.”
“Yes, I will.” I heard the click on the other end and put the phone down.
I rode in the cab to Esquire’s Publishing and had taken my latest work with me to show Leramie in case he decided he was interested in the other book. I paid the cab fair and stepped out onto the curb and headed straight for the door. It was unlocked this time and the smiling face of a receptionist greeted me.
“Welcome to Esquire’s Publishing, do you have an appointment?”
“Yes, I’m here to see Mr. Esquire, I have a three o’clock appointment with him, my name is Nicole Hirschi.”
“Ah yes,” she nodded her head in acknowledgment, “so you are CJT. You are more than welcome to go straight to his office, he’s expecting you.”
Picking my jaw up off the floor, I went directly to his door and knocked. “Come In.” I heard him say and entered the tidy office.
Standing to meet me again, he quickly shook my hand and said, “Have a seat, Nicole.” I did as I was told and looked inquiringly at him.
“I’ve decided to publish your book, here is a contract with the terms, take a few days to review it then let me know if it is agreeable or not.” He passed the paperwork across the desk to me.
“Oh Thank You, Mr. Esquire-”
“Yes, Leramie, thank you.”
“I’m also curious about some of your other writing, are you working on anything else at the moment?” Well if this wasn’t just coincidence I wasn’t sure what was.
“Yes, I am,” I pulled my laptop out and pulled up my latest work. “I started this the day after my visit with you.” I told him, feeling quite proud of myself. After all I was up to almost a hundred and fifty pages.
He skimmed through the first few pages while I sat in silence.
“You have something here.” I smiled at him, “Where did you come up with this idea?”
“Don’t think I’m crazy, but I came across this book that seemed to change my perspective a little. Ever since I put it down, I have not been able to stop seeing letters forming into the story that I now have before you.”
“I think the title of this piece you are working on should be named, ‘CJT’s Word Vamp’, it gives the appearance that you are almost like a vampire feeding off of other author’s books then creating your own, in a sense vamping up their words to create something extremely enthralling!”
I left his office a while later, knowing that my book was being published and that I wouldn’t have to search for another publisher once the new one was finished.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Tis The Season...
Frustrated with the hiccup that occurred in my early December plans of Christmas Tree hunting, I looked at the large snow covered landscape that now surrounded me. Three large snow storms had hit since I had first made my plans, and now I was looking at a wall of snow about four and a half feet tall with only eight more days till, as the kids put it, the Jolly Old Man comes again..
My husband sneered at me from the truck, “I don’t see why we can’t just buy a fake tree, every year we end up doing this, trying to get a tree the last minute and there is always just too damn much snow.”
He just doesn’t get it, a Christmas tree has to be a real tree, a fake tree is plastic and definitely not the same. Besides, I'm trying to keep a tradition going by taking the kids and letting them experience the fun of picking out the “perfect” tree, cutting it down and dragging it back to the truck. Once home, measuring it and cutting it to size, then of course, decorating it!
I shuddered as the memory skated by of our first married Christmas together and watching my husband string lights on the tree, around and around in circles, not even trying to get every branch. Ridiculous! He had no concept of how to decorate a tree, and still doesn‘t.
Climbing back into the truck, I instructed him to drive to the next pull off point. After stopping and arguing about where to go because where we were did not look too promising, I saw the snowmobile tracks across the highway headed into the trees. Climbing out I crossed the street and climbed onto the packed snow, my eyes peeled, searching for that perfect tree. After hiking for a little while and searching, I thought to myself, My God, I’m never going to find the perfect tree!
Now a ways from the road surrounded by snow, something told me to look to the right. I turned didn’t see a tree that looked right and was about to keep going when something told me to look over my shoulder and to the right. I did as I was told and there stood a queer tree. The more I looked at it, the more I wanted that one to be the perfect tree. I back-tracked to where the road was closest to the tree.
I realized my mistake when I stepped off the snowmobile track into the bleak snow surrounding it and found myself waist deep. I struggled to pull my boots free, but found that the more I pulled the more my feet wanted to come out of the boots themselves. Grabbing a bush whose branches were protruding out of the snow, I was able to give myself enough leverage to move my feet back to the road again. I started again with grim determination to reach the damn tree since I was not about to go start looking for another one in waist deep snow.
I stomped the snow down, trying to pack it and make a walkway. A half hour passed and still I found myself only halfway from the road to the tree, Only another fifteen feet to go! In the end, determination won out because I was finally able to get within arms reach of the tree, and that would surely be enough for my husband to cut it down.
Pulling the kids out of their car seats, we bundled them up. I pulled my camera from my pocket, flashing pictures of them as they waddled on the snow packed trail. My husband upon seeing where I had ventured off into the bushes became suspicious. “Be careful hun, I spent most of my time over there in waist deep snow.” I called to him. He rolled his eyes and continued in. Pulling the tree out proved to be a much easier task for him than me getting into where it stood.
I prayed to God that the tree would look alright since I could not get close enough to see the back side of it. God decided to be kind to me today because once we got the tree home and setup in the stand, it ever so gorgeously displayed a perfect set of branches on all sides.
The hiccup was well worth the wait…
Sunday, December 13, 2009
It’s no wonder at all that we refuse to apologize for opening our mouth and spouting our senseless thoughts to the world when our nation allows for freedom of speech. A brain occupying the skull does not mean it is always well used. A thoughtless phrase or rumor spoken from the lips of a single person can destroy a lifetime of credibility.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Here's the lowdown: This is basically a series of flash stories. I was tagged by the amazing Paul Phillips, and given the list of previous posts so I could continue this on. I will add to the story, then tag more people for them to keep it moving. It is a wonderful concept and a lot of fun.
Okay - so here is where the chain begins:
Lost in the BoZone
David Barber's Fiction World
Writing The Hard Way
Not From Here, Are You
I Can't Believe It's Not Better!
Now, here is my addition to the story!
Blanco took his cell out of his pants pocket and quickly began dialing. Ring, Ring.
“Kris here, who the hell are you?”
“Kris it's Blanco, hey we have a situation.”
“Blanco? Why is it that I only hear from you when you have a ‘situation’?”
“Damn it Kris! This is serious, The Big Bopper is on the loose and we need help.”
“Who’s with you?”
“Houston is, and we’re headed back to Universe Mall.”
“Tell that bastard, Houston, that I’ll have the team ready. He can drop by on his way.”
“Thanks Kris, I owe you one-” Kris had already hung up leaving him talking to no one.
“Kris said you can head over and he’ll have the team ready for you.”
“I don’t know how to operate the team!” Gary’s look of horror surprised Blanco.
“Well you better learn how and quick! Now hurry up, Kris doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Gary watched Blanco hurry to his car and drive away.
The barn smelled of old straw and urine, and Gary fought the need to cover his nose with his hand. “Kris? Kris? Kris Kringle, where the hell are you?”
Now I tag the following People:
What Is But May Not Be
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Hours later the hole was finally large enough. Using the forklift I moved his body from the trailer behind my truck and lowered it into the earth. I put the scoop back on the blades of the fork lift and began filling in the hole. I crawled out of the forklift and looked at my handiwork. I knelt where I knew I had put his head and touched the soft soil covering it. “Shadow Dancer,” I whispered, “May you be the fastest race horse in heaven.”
Friday, December 4, 2009
Just admit it to me.
You’re controlling my feelings.
Though my heart was in pain
With your spell it is healing.
In the forest you knew
Of the midsummer flower
That when kissed by the sun
Has a magical power.
Please don’t go searching
For the red bloom this evening
For the love that I have for you
Is true and free.
Just as the rivers
Of the mountains are givers
Of clean water;
You’ve given life to me.
As you visit my dreams
In the green glades of summer
You are coming to me
As you would to a lover
And you don’t need to give
Me a flower or a potion
I shall always be here
You have all my devotion.
Please don’t go searching
For the red bloom this evening
For the love that I have for you
Is true and free.
Just as the rivers
Of the mountains are givers
Of clean water;
You’ve given life to me.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Just To Feel Alive Again
Why does every song, story, and poem remind me of you? I hadn’t realized how much a part of my life you had become. Now I lie awake and wonder why I can’t seem to get you out of my head. I know that I shouldn’t feel for you the way that I do, but something familiar tugs at the back of my mind telling me that I wish you were here.
Your recently added photos do not advertise a smile which leads me to believe that maybe you feel the same way too. I now find myself thinking about what it would be like to sit up with you and watch a whole night from sunset to sunrise just say that I’ve seen it with you.
I still can’t find sleep even though I’ve been trying to count sheep all night. Each time I close my eyes, I picture myself looking across the field to where I find you standing there waiving at me. Eagerly, I find myself waiving back a huge grin on my face.
When I open my eyes again and look at my hands, I feel sad. I often wonder if the spaces between my fingers would be where yours would fit perfectly. Cold nostalgia chills me making me burrow deeper into my blankets and wish your arms were around me. Its only then that I can seem doze for a little while.
I watched the black night turn light blue while sitting on my front porch this morning and wondered if I could take a picture and send it would you get it? I looked at the fading stars and wondered if they kissed you like I asked them to.
Each time I blink I find myself thinking of you. Why can’t I get you out of my head. I wish I could fly and taste the sky, maybe it would help bring me out of this dream and I could go a day with out wishing you were here.
As the tears breeched the flood gates in the morning sun, I knew I was alone. I felt them roll down my cheeks and could hear the soft thud thud as they landed on my black leather jacket.
When I think of you I don’t feel so alone. Please come home.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The snowflakes falling outside our window remind us of how lucky we are to warm ourselves by the fire as we string lights around each branch bringing our Charlie Brown tree to life.
Plug in the lights and watch as our children’s eyes grow large with awe, as they think now about Santa.
The snowman we made this morning stares into the window with his charcoal eyes and listens as we tell stories of Christmas Cheer.
After bundling up to venture out for our December Parade, we head to the barn and hookup the team, climb in the sleigh for our annual hayride.
Caroling, laughing, and drinking our hot chocolate we wave to the crowded watchers who we’ll join when done to enjoy a little dancing to Jingle bell Rock.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
"You can't make a deal with the devil, Sam," she said, "and expect to come out on top."
"Sure I can Ellen, because when I'm done living on top in sin, then I can just make a deal with God and live on top in Heaven."
"Thats the most screwed up thing I think I've ever heard Sam."
"No, you're just jealous that you didn't think of it first."
"OH GOD SAM WATCH OUT FOR THAT-" Ellen didn't have a chance to finish because while sitting in the car one minute, she was now sitting in front of two gates one that guarded a descending staircase and one an ascending staircase, "Guess we know how God feels about your deal now, huh Sam."
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
My water broke leaving work , thank god I was in the parking lot when it went, otherwise it would have been everywhere, either at work, or in my car. I managed to get in my car, drive home and call my husband. He immediately rushed home and grabbed my overnight bag. I had prepared and packed everything in preparation of this new little one.
My mother and I had oo’d and awed over each cute little onesie and outfit, the tiny socks, and small shoes.
The drive to the hospital went in a flash, not paying much attention except trying to remember if I had packed everything or if something was still forgotten.
We arrived and I was rushed into Labor and Delivery, setup on a hospital bed and hooked up to all sorts of fine machinery. I listed intently to the beep, beep, thud, thud, of the machines that registered my blood pressure and the baby’s heart beat. I was anxious to see my little prince, this creation my body had incubated so well for nine months. Hours seemed to drag by with a little pain here, and a little pain there.
Seven, eight, nine hours after leaving my cubicle at work I was still waiting for the hard labor to set in. The nurse gave me something to help kick start the contractions and I laid back and watched the mundane shows that always appear on hospital cable.
The pain started getting worse as another hour passed. Finally my contractions were to the point that the nurse called for the doctor.
“Are you excited?” He asked, while checking how far dilated I was.
“More in pain right now.” I answered through my gasping breaths.
“Give her the epidural now. You did say you wanted one right?” He looked to me.
“Yes!” followed by a whimper.
The process of the epidural was painful, but I’m not sure what was worse, the pain from the contractions or the large needle filling my back with the numbing solution. My body started to relax and I was once again grateful.
The contractions, still being felt but on a smaller scale began coming every minute and they knew it was the time we had all been waiting for.
“Push! Breath! Push again!” The doctor was telling me, “I can see his head!”
I continued to push until the little boy, my little boy was being placed on my belly. His beautiful head, his beautiful body, and his sweet cry filled my heart with joy that nothing can compare to. They measured and weighed, cleaned him up then handed him back to me.
I cradled his tiny body, my husband and I whispering sweet nothings to him, when it happened. He stopped breathing. Frantic, I yelled for a nurse. A whole crew came running in and by then there was nothing they could do. They tried and tried to bring him back, my poor baby boy, my prince, but no heart beat or breath they could find. Sobbing I looked at the doctor and the nurses, their heads bent in grief. Why was I only given one moment of joy to only have it ripped away and replaced with a sadness so deep.
The doctor whispered something to my husband and a nurse filled my IV with a liquid but didn’t tell me what it was. Now, my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my senses. I feel so tired, so tired and so hurt. What kind of God would do this to any mother? I feel so tired now…
Monday, November 23, 2009
Terra was always ready when I pulled in the drive, and met me before I even had a chance to get out of the car. I hated it when she wouldn’t let me open the door for her; it wasn’t right. I had always been raised to open the car door for women, no matter who or what the occasion. Her manners seemed uncouth.
We drove to The Grind, the local coffee shop on the corner of 6th and Madison Ave, parked and headed in to make our daily order. “I’ll pay today,” I sternly told the cashier, seeing her about to protest, I repeated again, “I’ll pay today.” I practically threw the change at the cashier while looking at Terra.
Sitting down at the table by the window that we always sat at, again just routine, she began to protest. “I don’t see why you insist on paying all the time, I can afford my own coffee you know.”
“I know. It’s just the principle of it.” I replied smiling at her. She just didn’t understand that as a southern gentleman I had been raised to open car doors for women, pay the tab, and treat women with the highest degree of respect.
“And what principle is that, and don’t give me that excuse of that’s just how you were raised. You’ve had plenty of time to grow out of it.” She looked me in the eyes and waited. I was glad for the interruption of the clerk bringing us our coffee.
“Its just how I am, nothing is going to change that.” The routine played out just as it had for the last six months. Terra had been given a promotion at work and that put her working next to me in my department. I was too shy to ask her out on a date so I settled for offering her a ride to work and home; I also knew the stories that circulated about dating a co-worker and how they always ended disastrously.
“Hey, sorry to change the subject, but have you ever noticed them?” She stared behind me at something. I turned and looked, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.
“Notice what Terra?” I asked.
“There’s always someone behind you, Henry. Haven’t you ever noticed, or am I just the first one to point them out?” She looked from me to whatever she had been staring at before. Confused, I turned again and looked. The only other people in the shop were regulars that we saw everyday. There was no one right behind me so I wasn’t sure what she was really trying to say.
“Um… okay.” I said stretching it out. I turned back to her and took a drink of my coffee. The scalding liquid burned my mouth and instantly I swallowed then wished I hadn’t. I doubled over holding my sides as it burned its way down into my stomach.
“How many times have I told you to blow on your coffee before you take a drink!” Terra looked at me exasperated. “Seriously though, you can’t see them?”
“No. Are you just trying to make fun of me?” I was beginning to get frustrated.
“No, I’ve always been honest with you. These people that follow you all the time… some of them scare me. I don’t like you bringing them to my house when you pick me up in the mornings.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, what people? I never brought anyone with me. It was always just me. “I never bring anyone with me, I live alone, I drive alone, and I most definitely don’t bring anyone with me to your house.”
“You are not being funny! There IS always someone behind you, Henry! I just thought you might want to explain them to me, that’s all.” She got up from the table and walked over to the counter. Still confused and angry that she would continue to badger me about something I knew nothing about I watched her take the phone from the cashier and talk to someone for a minute. She then came back and sat down.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“I’m having a taxi pick me up.”
“What? Why?” I never thought that she would feel she needed to get a ride from someone else.
“Because I can’t look at you without seeing them, and I won’t ride with you if I you won’t tell me who they are and what they are doing.”
“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about, but if you feel that you need to ride in a taxi, at least let me pay for it.” I started to take a $20 out of my wallet.
“No Henry, as I’ve told you before, I can afford my own coffee and I can afford my own taxi.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I quietly replied. I grabbed my coffee and my half finished scone and headed out to my car. I drove to work with the sick feeling that I had no idea what she was talking about and that maybe I was missing something.
I arrived at work earlier than usual, alone and distraught. I tried to get some work done, but just kept worrying about the knot in my stomach. I looked down at the clock on my computer and noticed that Terra was now forty minutes late for work. I rang Mindy, the receptionist, and asked if Terra had called, her answer: no.
Concern ate at me, I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone at The Grind. I tried to concentrate the rest of the day at work with her continued absence. I drove home, taking the time to stop at the coffee shop and ask if they remembered seeing her, the new people on shift couldn’t recall her. I then stopped at her house, nothing looked disturbed and there was no answer when I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell.
I unlocked my front door, walked inside and sat down on the bench in the entry. I tried to clear my mind. A sudden ringing from the phone in the kitchen brought me out of my trance. I picked up the receiver, “Hello?”
“Henry, its Mindy. I just got off the phone with Terra’s mother. It’s not good. I’m so sorry Henry. There was an accident and Terra was killed on her way to work.” I stared out my kitchen window holding the receiver in silence. “Henry? Henry? Hello Henry? Are you there?”
“How?” Was all I could push out of my mouth.
“Her taxi collided with a Semi Truck that ran the light at 9th and Madison. I’m so sorry Henry, I know you two were close.”
“Thanks for telling me, bye now.” I muttered then hung up the receiver. I sat down on my tile floor and put my head in my hands. Sobs shook my entire frame. It was my fault, all my fault.
I still don’t know what she was talking about when she said that there was always someone behind me. I still find it odd that the day she would mention it to me, she would be killed. Obsessed, I now look behind me frequently, expecting to see someone standing right behind me or following close by.
Its now been three years and still each day I drive past her house, have coffee at the same coffee shop, sit at the same table, and then drive to the same job to sit by her same desk now filled by someone else. I still wonder, was it coincidence?
Monday, November 16, 2009
She couldn’t tell how long she had lain there, but one thing she knew, it hadn’t been long enough. Her body had quit complaining a while ago about the sharp twigs and rocks hidden beneath dead leaves, grass and pine needles that had been poking her in the back. Her skin burned where each individual snow flake landed and melted, leaving tiny wet marks. The chill that lingered on the breeze had caused her to shiver uncontrollably until finally her naked body had started to turn blue and calmed with the escaping time.
She watched the fog descend slowly toward her from the treetops. It wrapped around her like a white snake, constricting her thoughts, causing her to think again about why she was there.
Why wouldn’t the tears come? She had been notified early that morning about her mother's unexpected massive coronary in the middle of the night. She was not old by any standards nor was she relatively unhealthy. She was however, an emotional leech feeding off of making her family suffer.
She thought about how hard she had tried to please her mother, to gain her acceptance, simply to hear a word of acknowledgment, but to no avail. She thought about how hard she had tried to maintain a relationship with her, if for nothing other than to give her children the opportunity to know their grandmother. All in vain.
She remembered the conversation that had ended the entire façade a few years ago. It was Thanksgiving Dinner; her mother stood and told how grateful she was for family, and how her family had made the sacrifices so they could come and be with her. She rambled on and on about seeing all of her children and their spouses many times throughout the year, and yet not one mention was made of her eldest daughter, and her efforts. It was her turn next, she stood, and looking her mother in the eye said, “I am thankful for a husband who encourages me in all that I do, when you, my own mother have never encouraged me at all.”
The glances surrounding her were of utter shock, except for her mother who was sporting an amused look on her face while she said, “You are no longer welcome in my home.” She was relieved really. No more having to wear a mask and pretend to care about a person she now inwardly hated. She cried mixed tears of anger and relief the whole drive home.
As the fog slinking around her begin to rise, realization sunk in. She knew why she could not shed a single tear for her mother’s passing. How could she mourn a person who had already died? Her mother died that day at Thanksgiving dinner.
She pushed her numb hands under her to help her sit up. She took her time getting to her feet and walking back to where she had parked her car. She slowly dressed. Feeling the smile playing on her lips, she stepped into her car and drove from her mountain retreat towards home.
Friday, November 6, 2009
CHARLESTON, So. Carolina - Thursday, police arrived at the scene of David's Bridal, where a man allegedly pulled a gun and opened fire, injuring 8 employees. The HR Representative told reporters that she recognized the man because she had just interviewed him for a job position a few days ago and had called him that morning to tell him he had not be accepted.
David's Bridal was put in lockdown Thursday afternoon as officers began a dressing room-by-dressing room evacuation.
One eye-witness was heard saying, "I just ducked inside the dress shop to escape the sudden downpour when I found myself in the middle of a heated discussion between the employees and the man in question."
Charleston County Sheriff's Spokesman Samuel Obbercott says his department is backing up the Charleston police and they are still looking for an armed man wearing a light blue polo shirt and jeans.
The Charleston Fire Department told reporters that 8 people were injured. Interstate 12 is closed in both directions through downtown and that a nearby school is on lockdown.
This man is armed and dangerous, if you come in contact via a job interview just start praying for your life, if you survive the encounter, contact the Charleston Police Department immediately.
CJT - Sr. Journalist
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Now, carrying the consequence of the latest victimization, she stepped off the chair and dangled by the rope around her neck. She knew while dying in the arms of an angel that she was preventing her unborn child from entering a world of evil.
Monday, November 2, 2009
The barking dogs could be heard echoing over the fields. There was something out there, always something out there unknown and unseen. The evidence was clear. Dead cattle, goats, and chickens were found from one farm to the next stretching for miles. The farmers tried to catch the unknown creature by dangling bits of turkey giblets from the corn stalks surrounding their livestock. The bait was never taken. Raving Lunatics claimed to know the answer of the livestock killing creature, they claimed it was "El Chupacabra."
Upon reading this, Pink Floyd thought it would make a great theme for their new album: A Thanksgiving Day Feast.
Looking at the photos in her email, she couldn't help but wish she was single again. The faces, the chats, the emails, it was too much. Her body ached to be free. The tension was growing within her; she felt the good begging her to think about her children and the life she had built with her husband, the bad asking her to remember when she could have any man she desired. Days filled with desire of other men and nights filled with lustful wishes, were taking their toll on her. Finally she reached "The Point of No Return" and told her husband that their marriage was through.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but a single sound can leave you speachless.
You heard your mother's labored breath as you entered the world.
You heard your heart beating fiercely when hiding as silently as possible from your friends in a game of hide-and-seek.
You heard the sobs that escaped your lips as your husband gave your daughter away on her wedding day.
You heard the joyous laughs and giggles of your grandchildren as they happily played at Thanksgiving.
Now, you struggle to listen and can only hear the sound of silence as you watch your life fade into the wrinkles of time.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Incubating the idea over and over in my head, I called my friend, “Hey Melissa…. yeah…. its me, can you come over for a minute? I have something that I need you to see….all right…see you in a few.”
I opened my eyes again and looked in the bathroom mirror. I continued to stare at my new uncolored body. I heard Melissa knock on the door and come in.
“What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”
“Look at me!” I said, “I’m all grey!” Seeing her face in the mirror, I turned around.
“What are you talking about?”
Looking at her with my mouth hanging open. It took a few tries to finally spit out the words screaming in my mind. “Look at you, you're all grey too!”
“I’m not all grey. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked confused, angry even.
“What do you mean?” I didn’t understand why she would lie to me. She hasn’t in the past.
“I think we should get you to the doctor.”
I went to my dresser and started pulling out clothes, all of them now shades of black and white. I knew my clothes should have been different colors. I started to freak out! Melissa helped me into some clothes and took me to her car. She drove me to the hospital and helped check me in. After what seemed like hundreds of eye tests, the doctor finally came in.
“You have a rare disease. It’s called, ‘Negative Suck’.”
I looked at him as if he were joking, but the look on his face said otherwise.
“This disease causes the cones in your eyes to quit working. I’m sorry to say, but you’ll never see color again.” Now I live my nightmare of a life seeing only black and white.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I’m not sure what I saw that evening with Craig but it sure isn’t something I’ve talked about since. We were only kids, you know. It could have been anything. We had been at school late for a study group in math. We had just finished with our teacher. You could tell through the windows that it had grown late; we didn’t have a lot of time to get home.
Craig and I had been best friends since I moved to Delway. He was the first one who greeted me at the door to tell me who he was and where he lived. We spent every living breathing day together.
Pausing to catch our breath, I noticed we were standing across from the old abandoned hotel. It was The Old Abandoned Hotel. Everyone knew what place you were talking about when you coughed up that name. I could have sworn I saw a curtain move in one of the upper windows. Craig told me to knock it off when I told him, and that I was stupid for trying to scare him. While Craig stooped to tie his shoes and re-adjust his backpack, I stared at the old building. Intrigued by its appearance, I couldn’t help but wonder why it had been abandoned. It wasn't until just recently that I found out what happened. Craig stood up and saw me staring at the upper windows of the hotel.
“We better get back, ‘cause it’ll be dark soon, and they mostly come at night… mostly.”
I was telling him to knock it off right after that. I looked again and still the curtain was moving, I know it was. I pointed this out to Craig, but he just grabbed my arm and started pulling me away from the Old Hotel.
“Hey – What’s going on?” I asked roughly when Craig had apparently decided he had drug me far enough away from it.
“Don’t you know, that building’s haunted. People have said that there are ghosts in it. Others say it’s a monster of a different kind. Either way, I’m not sticking around to check it out with you."
"When did you start believing in ghost stories?" I folded my arms and stared him down.
"I don't want to talk about it. Lets just go home, okay?" Craig looked at me, his eyes pleading.
"No way, I'm going back to check it out. You can go on home since your so scared." I knew if I pushed him hard enough that he'd give in, he couldn't let me go anywhere alone. There it was again, that fleeting look of fear, crossing his face and settling in his eyes.
"Fine," after a few moments of silence, "I'll come with you, but you have to promise you're only going to look at it, we can't go in."
"Fine." I said back. We turned and walked back to the abandoned hotel. Craig stopped me across the street and told me he wasn't going any closer. I kept going, I wanted to get as close as I could and see inside the windows on the main floor. Built in the early 1800's, it was a gorgeous sight to behold. I couldn't get enough of it. Every window I looked in was covered by moth-eaten curtains. Looking back I saw that I was now almost sixty yards from Craig. He looked like he was shaking. I turned around and continued on my mission. I was going to find a window to look in, even if it killed me. Turning the corner I found what I was seeking. A large window, the curtains had been taken down and lay in a neat pile just in front of the window. I pulled my sleeve up over my wrist and tried to clean some of the grime off the glass to get a better look.
I had to stand on my tip-toes to get a real good look. I could see old furniture untouched and covered with what had once probably been white sheets but were now dusty brown. An ancient television, some old lamps and other miscellaneous items stared back at me. I looked at the tv again, probably an old black and white from the looks of it. Just above the tv on the wall behind it, I saw what looked to be dark red/brown stains on the walls. I remember thinking, maybe it's blood. I found myself straining to look in the window now, it was starting to get dark.
"Come on Mark! We need to get home!" I could hear Craig shouting from where he was still standing on the corner across from the hotel.
"Okay, I'm coming!" I hollered back. I had to get one more look in the window of the old hotel. I'd be damned if I couldn't have something to go back and tell the kids from school that I had done. I stretched again on my tip-toes and peered into the window. Suddenly, a face appeared, not the face of a person, the face of...of... of God only knows what. I screamed something incoherent as I fell back on my butt, and scrambled to get away. I ran to Craig, grabbed him and started pulling him away from the god forsaken building.
"What the hell, Mark? What happened?" Craig panted running beside me.
I couldn't tell him, I couldn't tell anyone.
That face has haunted my dreams for years now. I still can't sleep more than a few minutes at a time or it comes back for me. I can see it clear as day, staring back at me through the window. Please, just don't make me go back to sleep, okay? I ask the doctors.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
As the sun rises I take my cup of coffee and newspaper, and sit on my porch. Looking at the web, lined with the morning dew, I see a butterfly filled with adoration trying to get a closer view. It's not until its wings softly caress the silk that I realize what the spider's done. She's weaved her web, beautiful and deadly, a woven web of deceit.
Her lies cover her poisonous mind, making us see only her beauty inside. It's not until we've been enticed, wined, dined, and befriended that we find the poison hid deep within. Her deceitful and beautiful web is a trap that will destroy us in the end.
Quickly I pulled out my broom and ruined the web, destroying her bed of lies. Looking at me she crawls to the ground, and before I become sentimental I bring my foot down and kill what’s left of our poorly constructed relationship.
Friday, October 23, 2009
My beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
You take in my awe-inspiring creations: breathtaking mountain heights, barren wastelands, scorched deserts, calming forests, ice-covered islands, and each time you are moved by the serenity found within.
Every waking moment your vision is filled with the foundations I have created for everything living.
You easily forget that I'm constantly fed by your bloodshed which allows my body to create an ever-changing cycle of life, death, decay and rebirth.
When angered at your abuse of my body, I have unleashed monstrosities: by cracking my knuckles that you call plates, mountains have been devoured, by proclaiming my anger, you see volcanoes, from which lava and ash have spewed forth and destroyed whole civilizations.
I am Earth.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Fetching the bells from the shed and thinking back to two weeks ago, Jessie felt her eyes sting from the oncoming tears.
Angry and upset over the loss of her favorite horse, Barker, Jessie jangled the bells hard and threw them to the ground.
"Why the hell did he have to be so reckless?!" she screamed into the fading grey sky, fists raised.
She thought of the fear in his eyes as he struggled against the blood loss and cold from getting caught in the barbed wire that had cut through the main artery in his leg.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
He told me one evening after coming home and finding me in my room with a swelling black eye, “Honey, never start a fight, but make sure you always finish it.”
Being a girl, it was never considered “lady-like” to be a fighter, but that’s exactly what my dad taught me to be.
From elementary school fights to high school fights, I did just as my dad said, I never started them, but I sure finished them.
His advice never made more sense to me than the night I was hanging with some of my military friends and “the enemy” as we called her started the fight, I finished by sending her to the hospital with a broken nose and stitches across her eyebrow.
His advice taught me that if I’m ever put in the position of having to duck a punch, I’ll always be the last one standing.
Friday, October 16, 2009
“Honey, can you get that?” My wife, Sharon, asks from the kitchen. Putting down the remote and dragging myself out of my favorite lazyboy, I walk to the front door and open it. Great, its my neighbor from two houses down.
“Hi, come on in.” I tell him opening the door wider so he can step in.
“I’ll only be a sec.” He says, “Did you by chance get a package in the last few days?”
“No, why?” I casually ask while trying to keep a straight face.
“My son’s girlfriend said she’s been waiting for a package and that she put my address on it. The problem is, that it hasn’t shown up yet and now she’s thinking that maybe she gave the shippers the wrong address.”
“No, I haven’t seen it, but if I do then I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.” He walked back outside and I watched as he headed to the next neighbor’s house.
“Who was that, Ray?” I hear Sharon ask from the kitchen.
“It was Derryl from two houses down.”
“He wasn’t here long, what did he want?
“You know that box from the other day…” I hesitated, leaning around the entry to the kitchen to look at her.
“You mean… that was his?”
“What did you tell him?”
“Not that we threw it away, just that we hadn’t seen it. He said it was something that his son’s girlfriend had ordered.” I don’t think I’ve seen Sharon’s eyes get that big before in my life.
So, let me tell you about this package we received, the package that I just told my neighbor we didn’t, to clue you in a little bit…
I work for the Army. I had one of the shittiest days on record and was listening to my favorite Nickleback song when I pulled into my driveway. Walking up to my front porch I notice this package, right? So, I look at the info, it has my address on it but not my name. It had a name that I’ve never even heard of. I know all of my neighbors and it definitely wasn’t one of their names. I searched the box for a return sender, or something identifiable as to where it came from, nada, nothing, zip.
I did the only logical thing I could, and took it inside. When Sharon came home, she looked it over too and still no additional clues were found.
After debating back and forth with my wife we decided to open it. I pulled out my pocket knife and cut the tape. The box was filled with packing peanuts so we started to fish. One bad thing led to another.
Now, I’ve seen some pretty nasty stuff being in the military and all, but this was beyond anything I’d even seen. My poor wife- all I wanted to do was shield her poor eyes.
Inside was hard core porn, wait, even worse than hard core. This was bad enough to make the “hard core” seem girlie. Not only did we find porn though, the more we fished the more the box had to reveal. There were sex toys of all sorts, how to manuals, and stuff I won’t even mention. It was just too appalling.
I packed the box back up as quick as I could, went to the basement and dug out the tape gun we hadn’t used since Christmas, and taped the sucker shut.
I ripped off the address label and burned it, then put the entire box, contents and all, into my garbage can. Thank God it was garbage pickup the following day.
Okay, so now, imagine me telling my neighbor as casually as possible that I hadn’t see the box he was looking nor it’s contents within the last few days… ha ha.
Now, lets see if you can top that story.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
After telling him to stay away from my child, he became very vocal. Frustrated by his ignorance, I told him, "You better understand what I'm telling you, or else!"
"Or else what?" he asked.
Looking down and seeing my fluffy grey cat, Tiger, by my feet, I reached down and grabbed him by his hind legs and swung him towards my neighbor like a bat. With his screeching, yowling voice and claws extended, I hit him smack in the face and said as Tiger went for the kill, "Or else this!"
Thursday, October 8, 2009
This piece originally started as a 6S original, a series of 6 six sentences.... Now hopefully, the start of a novel to come- CJT
“Have you seen me before,” he slimy voice asks, the stench emanating from his body was almost overwhelming, his robe flowing about him like moth eaten sheets when they sway in the breeze on wash day, his wings nothing more than a frame of bones, his shadow slithering around us like fog on a rainy morning, he grabbed my face with his corpse like hand, covered in rotting flesh, to make me look him in the eyes that he no longer had, “Not many have lived to see my twice, yet how many times now have you cheated death.”
“No one to save you this time,” he licked his rotten teeth, his breath smelling of spoiled food, “God has forsaken you, he did after you turned your back on him and became what you are now.”
I could feel my body shaking with the intensity that it took not to shift forms, to him I was a little girl, the little girl that defied them all, with my shrieking temper and loud lungs I called death, I called him and told him to kill them all.
“Did God not tell you, the last time he saw you,” I curiously asked him, my eyes straining not to turn red from their perfect blue, “even Christ cannot do what I can, you see, I have control over you.”
His laughter like ocean waves smacking the cliff face, still holding my face he looked at me, smelled me, his rotten fleshy hand touched me, I remembered why God had forsaken me in the shining skies of Heaven, He, ashamed of his affair with Mary, not the first time for Christ, but for the second when he created me, the daughter of Sin.
No longer able to hold back, my formed changed into the grey mask of a woman, my red eyes filled with blood of the life filled souls he had taken for me, my wings the color of dark night spread out before us, “Come Grim Reaper,” I see him shudder under my dominate voice, “We have work to do.”
Part 2 - The Fall of Kokabiel
“Grim,” I ask picking at the remains of our most recent meal, “Why did God have to make you stink like the maggot filled bodies of the dead we leave after we are finished with them?”
“Why do you always call me Grim,” the slimy voice retorted, “do you even know my real name, Enepsigos,” I shake my head no, my black hair swaying around my face, “my name, my real name is Kokabiel, it means Star of God.”
“How could you be called the Star of God, when you work for Death,” what he was telling me made no sense at all, my blue eyes stared into his empty eye sockets, yearning for the answer, my life so much younger than his prevented me from knowing the history of Heaven that to him was common knowledge.
The Grim Reaper leaned in close to me, his hot breath stinging my ear, the gagging stench threatening to cut off my oxygen flow, “I was one of God’s favored, one of the First Quorum of Sons, the council was mine to guide, after Lucifer’s rebellion about The Plan of Salvation, it was left for the remainder of us to choose between Lucifer and Jehovah, the Quorum was divided, my choice was the same as Lucifer’s, for that God cursed me just as he did you.”
“Let me get this straight,” I leaned away from him to fill my lungs with fresh air, “God made you this way because you didn’t side with his Beloved?”
Nodding his head, the breeze caught his hood and whipped it away revealing his skull, a decaying layer of flesh still lined it, “It is time,” I whispered, my anger turning my eyes red again, “We must prepare to meet Death, and there is still much to do yet.”
Part 3 - A Date With Death
Angry and upset by what the Grim Reaper had told me about being one of the favored of God, I finished my work and fled to the forest where I let my change overtake me, the warm rays of first light warming my black feathers giving them the look of shimmering silver.
I sat holding my head in my hands, stifling my sobs, tears trickling down my face, thinking back to the day in Heaven’s bright hall, where He told me He was ashamed of me, He was ashamed of Himself for having to see Mary over and over, and because He was wallowing in His own grief, I was to be kicked out of Heaven, to be another one of His fallen Angels.
“It doesn’t help to relive the moment of the Fall,” Appollyn, The Angel of Death, stepped out of the darkness near me, gathering me into his harms he rocked me, kissing the tears from my cheeks, “Our Father betrayed us all.”
His steal wings surrounding us, looking in my eyes, stroking my face, counting the beats of my heart, time stopped and was still.
I awoke just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, alone, empty, and cold, spreading my wings I flexed them, took flight and began to search for Grim, “You’re late,” licking his blood covered teeth, “No worries though, I was told you had another date with Death.”
Smiling, I moved upwind, if there was anything that would ruin my appetite, it was feeding downwind of the Grim Reaper, I looked around, Grim reading my mind stiffly replied, “If you’re wondering where the hounds are, Death took them with him.”
Part 4 - Unexpected Events
Death’s hounds came running to us as soon as they smelled the putrid flesh of the Grim Reaper, stopping to lick my hands and face once they reached me.
They rubbed up along my knees and lead me back to their master, his face masked by the cloak of night, “Grim, the hounds will lead you to my latest victims,” we watched as he followed the dogs, his shadow of mist flowing around him as he strode away, “now, Enepsigos, come to me.”
I moved toward him, my movements slow and paced, Death pulled me to him and lifted his hood, the face of Apollyn, The Fallen Angel of Death, lay beneath, resting his ash colored hand on my belly, looking into my eyes, into my soul, knowing without a doubt that I’m carrying his child, his little angel.
My red eyes no longer the dominating force, turn blue, and look to him, my master, my lover, my Angel of Death.
“Trouble is coming, Enepsigos,” Apollyn whispers, pulling from his cloak a short sword, the blade made from the dust of stars, forged from the fires of hell, “a war Enepsigos, a war between the angels.”
As if hearing our words, Death’s hounds gave an eerie howl that split the night and The Grim Reaper approached, scythe held at the ready, “Master of Masters,” his slimy voice uttered, “the victims are missing.”
Part 5 - New Armor
“Grim,” Apollyn barked, “I need you to take Enepsigos and seek out Xaphan, the fallen angel who tends the fires of Hell, Enepsigos needs armor and I won’t leave her unprotected, he’ll know what to do, and Grim, protect her with everything you hold dear, she’s our future now, take the hounds, they also will help protect you.”
Angry tears flashed in my red eyes, threatening to spill over, Death shook me, “Never fear, Enepsigos, you are strong, stronger than God, and this will flow past us-” I turned and looked into his black eyes, kissed him and turned to look at Grim.
“We will fly hard, the Reaper and I, we shall reach the gates of hell, no one, not even God himself will stop us,” I turned back to face Death, watching him pull his black armor crested with a red eye surrounded by flames, “tell the others Apollyn, and let them know that I carry with a fierce intensity, the soul to save us all.”
I watched with hatred as Death took flight, first circling above Grim and I, like a vulture scouting for prey, then as he flew west into the cloud covered moon, my stubborn tears finally winning control, roll down my cheeks, and all the while I’m thinking, I never want to see him leave me again.
Being fitted for armor by Xaphan was like being touched by Grim, they both felt dirty, smelled bad, and left you a little sick, I held my stomach down until we could exit the gates of Hell, then Grim watched with quant satisfaction as I wrenched what remained of my last meal all over the ground, then we watched as Death’s hounds licked up the vile mess I had made, “Nasty Animals, aren’t they-” Grim mocked.
“Not any nastier than you-” I retorted back spreading my wings, readying for the flight back to show Death my new armor, a matching set to his.
Part 6 - A Shocking Revelation
God sitting on his “throne divine” in the Celestial Temple of Heaven listened intently as Gariel and Michael repeated what they had heard, “The know we’re coming,” Gabriel whined, “they’ve already started to prepare and collect followers, even more quickly and fiercely than we thought they would.”
“What have you heard of Death,” God asked Michael, “does he still stand ready for war, are there no negotiations being voiced?”
Raziel approached the throne, kneeling, he kissed God’s feet then said quietly, “Lord, our God, I have heard news, about Enepsigos,” taking a deep breath and seeing the shocked look on God’s face, he carefully continued, “I have heard that she is with child, not just any child, but Death’s Child.”
“WHAT,” God roared, shaking the temple with his quaking voice, “how can this be, no angel fallen or not can have children unless I give the power or make them a God themselves!”
“Father,” Michael stepped forward, “maybe this child of fallen angels is going to be born a god, or a demon, or breed of something so beyond us that we’ve never seen anything like it-” silence echoed through the temple, making all of them uncomfortable.
“Gabriel, you must bring me Jehovah, then seek out the oracles of the Shectun Stars, I must know what this means, what we are facing, and if we need to notify the Council of the Gods of Fathers to help with this war to bring down all of the fallen children of mine,” God looking shockingly grey, a color not seen by any since he had been chosen by his father to become a god, “Death must not know what knowledge we are seeking.”
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
"It's just something I really want to do Mom, I still want to play baseball and football, but just not as bad as I want to do this-" He had begged his mother in junior high, seeing an ad in the local paper advertising a Bull fighting School provided by one of the local Bull Breeders of the PBR.
Still remembering that look on her face when that first PBR size bull charged him and he didn't turn fast enough, when that big 2,000 pound bull threw him into the fence panel and stomped him, Thank God for that vest, he thought once he could think through the pain ricocheting through his back.
"You shoulda seen it, Mom got the whole thing on video, someday you're gonna be famous..." Coming from his older brother of two years, the one who had talked his mother into letting him ride bulls.
Now, here he stands, in this arena, thousands of miles away from home waiting for the click of the chute as the lock is pulled away to run for my life and save a cowboy he barely knows.
Who he is, is this goofy looking rodeo clown, a natural born risk taker, the one who still can't back down from a challenge when the money talks.
Three time wearer of broken neck braces, more than he can count casts for broken bones, and who knows the sporter of how many stitches, but still here he stands in this dust filled arena, clown face ready, staring the bull in the eyes.
Friday, October 2, 2009
It was our anniversary and he was taking me to diner once again, the same thing every year, go to dinner, maybe see a movie, then go home and pay the babysitter for her time and patience.
The evening seemed to be dragging on, he wasn't saying much, just looking like he wasn't feeling well.
"Are you okay?" I asked him, he was started to show little beads of sweat on his forehead.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, are you ready to go?"
"Sure, do you want me to get the check?" Of course he did, I didn't even give him any cash for today, what was I thinking?
I paid the ticket and he held my hand as we left. Politely he opened the car door and helped me in, then climbed into his side and started the car.
Surprised that he would turn left towards the canyon instead of right back towards town, I wondered at whre he was taking me.
He drove for about twenty minutes to a look off, that showed the valleys below for miles, we climbed out and watched the sunset, just before dark he handed me a box.
"Open it," He sqeaked, "Oh, and Happy Anniversary."
Smiling with excitement I opened the small black velvet box and watched amazed at how the diamond earrings shimmered in the last rays of the sun. I put them in and leaned in close to kiss him.
"Thank you." I said a little breathlessly.
"Well, shall we?" I knew he meant going home to get the kids, so I put my hand in his and we began our drive home.
I hear the sound like keys in the ingnition when the driver's door is open.
Slowly I open my eyes. Seeing the rays of the sun dancing on the autumn leaves makes me smile.
I try to sit up, I'm not able to move, I hold up my hands clenched tight, and see, see what, red, is that blood?
I open my fist and find a diamond earring, one from the pair I received from Robert. I turn adn look at him, haning above me tangled in his seatbelt, lifeless, blood from the ehad wound congealed already, his eyes open.
"Ma'am, can you tell us anything else? Anything about the accident?" The officer asks.
"No, I'm sorry, I have no further recollection of the night before."
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Her day, full of unhappy customers screaming, "I just want my money!" as they fought in line to turn in their Christmas returns first, had become ugly.
As ambitious as she was, and what her feelings about Joshua were, she just couldn't bring herself to say those three words she knew he longed to hear.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
She was swimming in the Sea; the sun just above the surface touched the scales on her fins and made them sparkles like the rings of Saturn seen through the telescope.
Eben a sailor, man in his prime, dropped the net over the side of his boat, tuna again today, he thought.
They said that this place, a reef near the island of Gull cove was haunted by a beauty, the Mermaid Lagoon, a place where a beautiful creature emerged from the water singing a beautiful tune, but when angered could cause the tempest to which only one other could match, he being King Triton.
Always interested in the curious fold that so easily entertained her, Alisa, the mermaid, stayed at the place they called Mermaid Lagoon. Beautiful sailor faces kept her occupied until they angered her with excuses of stories about wives, children, and homes away from the Sea.
The net drifted lower and lower into the calm waves and slowly settled waiting to catch the fish within its grasp. Alisa hadn’t seen the net, being too busy admiring the boat and sailors aboard it.
“Let’s bring ‘er in boys.” Eben shouted to the crew, taking hold of the net full of fish.
The men heaved until exhaustion was about to set in, then the net crested the rail of the boat.
“What’s this?” Eben exclaimed for caught within the net’s grasp was Alisa, the mermaid. Her wet black shining hair, waist length covered her torso and glistening scales almost rainbow bright glittered in the sun.
Angered that she had been caught, and not on her own terms, she began thrashing to get loose. The sailors laughed which only angered her further. “Let me out!” She screeched, like listening to nails on a chalkboard.
“Only if you’ll sing!” One crewman bellowed, followed by a chorus of whoops and hollers.
Alisa began to sing, a voice like warm honey spreading to all their hearts. So this was the mermaid’s siren, Eben thought. Pictures entered his mind of Alisa’s sad intrigue with the sailors of the past and how they always spoke of leaving. He suddenly realized, if we don’t find a way to leave, it will only come back to haunt us.
Trying to rid his mind of Alisa’s beautiful pictures, he thought of Martha, his wonderful wife, his son James, born in 1876, and his home, overlooking the harbor.
Unconsciously, Eben began singing to himself. Without knowing the crew had turned to him and was no longer listening to Alisa, whose voice had faded into silence. When Eben’s song was finished, Alisa’s face flashed a shade of angry that was only seen before death.
“You, YOU…” She screeched, “You have taken from me the only joy today!”
“Tie her securely,” he told his crew, “she’s coming back with us. There will be no telling King Triton to destroy us, you evil creature!” The crew did as they were told and as they sailed home, they watched with horrid fascination as the sun slowly dried Alisa until lack of seawater caused her to die.
The sailors still claim to have heard the mermaid’s siren as they sailed through Mermaid Lagoon, but no one’s ever brought back proof of their existence except Eben who brought the body of Alisa home to Martha, and that night Martha made a mermaid stew.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Memories from Twenty years before, before I had children, before Max, before this wasted life.
I woke up this morning and decided it was the perfect day, my face glowed and the lines of my last great performance came tumbling out of my mouth.
In the bathroom, getting ready, I took one or was it two too many Xanex, or was it Valium, I never remember what the doc gives me anymore.
I barely remembered the drive, the climb, and the walk up to the edge of the cliff, mostly thinking, Perfect, rocks below- great for the sound, "Hurry up," I hear on the wind, I see the house lights dim, the curtain goes up, "You're on..." as I take my final step forward into the spotlight.
Seeking the direction her mind was trying to find, she found herself at first walking through the flames of hell, the shadow and smoke then sifting through ash she came forth.
The journey was coming to an end and she could feel the power gathering within.
As the new High Priestess was reborn the thoughts came to mind- make them pay, burn them, make them want to take it all back.
I sent each of my worthless peers to hell on a burning pyre of fire.
A sacrifice for Death.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Was I a liar when I wrote that Biography in 8th grade… could I have continued to lie to my children when asked who my birth father was?
More questions go unanswered in the new chapter of my life mixed with the old.
While crying today I’m told, “I’m always here for you, I always loved you, I sent money that was returned, I made calls that went nowhere, but always knew someday you’d call.”
The poison is thickening, gravy on a warm stove, covering all my thoughts and memories, how do I go back and ask my mother, my safety, what’s the truth now.
Madness sears my eyes with treacherous tears, anger wanting to lash out at what was my only safeguard as I say goodbye to the man at the airport, the man that once was my father.
"How would you prepare it?" I blatently asked before the velocity of what my mouth just said hit me. My mentor just shook his head and looked past me then hurried away.
Later, as I lay upon my straw mattress quietly rubbing flea bites, the realization of what my mentor had said, "If YOU are to become High Priestess..." He knows, he must know. Moving ever so quietly I pulled myself out of bed and went down the corridor to the ceremonial room. I entered, feeling the gooseflesh appear where the brisk shadow touched my naked youthful body.
I began preparing for the blood sacrifices just as I had seen the priests do it dozens of times, making sure to follow each step properly. The breeze touched me again and I looked to the window barely open. I pushed the wooden shutters outward and looked out just intime to see the eclispe billowing in the sky. Shocked at such revelation, I turned sharply away catching my wrist on the old glass that used to cover the window. I watched as if in slow motion as drop after drop dripped into my concocted bowl for the ceremony.
I watched in fascination as smoke rose from the bowl, creating a shadow covering everything, I was loosing myself. I felt the fire before I saw the flames that surrounded me. Nothing was burning around me, only myself. I burned there, next to the alter until all that was left was my soul in a pile of ash.
"Arise and be Reborn." a voice whispered. I languished through the ash until I was once again a being standing on my feet. Opening my eyes I saw I was surrounded by Priests, my mentor one of them.
"Oh God the Merciful, we thank thee for this new High Priestess." They began to chant.
I felt fire in my closed hand. Not one, except my mentor, felt the flames of destruction as I burned them on flaming pyres. All offerings for Death.
Monday, September 21, 2009
I could tell by the tracks and sign on the ground that I was getting close.
Her smell sat on the wind like a strange perfume, foot prints disturbed the dirt showing she was tired, leaves crushed by her endless knowledge of pursuit.
I stalked quietly, knowing my target was only yards away, waiting expectantly for her predator to find her, I could feel her fear.
I closed in, my knife held expertly in my hand, slowing I reached forward and grabbed her hair from behind and before she could even scream, blood was pouring from her throat.
I bent forward and lapped up every scarlet drop until she was entirely drained, a fabulous supper.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
My mom had a new mountain bike (I wasn't supposed to ride), isn't that how it always goes? I was riding it home from school I think I was 13. We didn't live too far, just far enough that the two mile bus pickup line was 2 houses up from me, they still wouldn't let me ride the bus. Part of the bike ride was this huge hill that was about halfway and on my way home I had to ride/walk all the way up it. This is what I remember, topping out and heading on home, then blank... that's right, blank. I think I fell asleep "at the wheel" if you will because I remember waking up on the back of a parked car, knuckles skinned and bleeding and some nasty bruises on my face and upper body... I RODE INTO A PARKED CAR!
Friday, September 18, 2009
On the right hand, I grew up being told that he never cared, never loved, not once and not ever- no child support, no cards, no phone calls and after I turned eight, no more "other" family visits with the "other" Grandparents.
On the left, I always thought, what was he really like, does he really not care, what would he say if he knew?
Now twenty years later, I found a number and called, asked for a man I've never really known. After hours and weeks of phone conversations, I meet him at the airport, the man that once was my father.
I entered the cave walking with my hand guiding me along the unseen edge. I could hear the faint drip dripping of water coming from further within. Quickly I awoke. My legs aching I wondered at where I had been.
The next few nights that followed the same thing, I followed the trail down the cliff face and into the cave, each night going a little further tracing with my mind my path deep within.
A family reunion to a place I had never been gave me plenty of time to think about my dream and ponder its’ meaning. Without consciously knowing what I was doing, I found myself walking along a cliff face, the lake water splashing the edge at what seemed like miles below. My mind taking over I wandered down the path and turned into the cave I knew was waiting for me. Listening to the drip dripping like in my dream I felt the rough edge of the cave wall and followed my mental path into the unknown.
As I continued I found where my dreams had left me and I knew I was on my own. I heard something calling to me telling me to come in. I couldn't turn back even though my mind started screaming, "Don't go!" I heard the singing before I saw the light, a beautiful voice, a language I've never heard. A hole in the roof showed the stars bright above, the light of the moon seemed to fill the cavern lighting everything within including a being. Wrapped in chains, held to the ground, a demon's star did surround. He looked at me the light on his face, horrified I saw the scars that showed his lips sewn shut. His eyes were flames wrapped in the moon, like looking deep into a soul. He sang to me then like a whisper I heard, “Please let me touch you. You know you want to.”
I couldn't resist my body moved toward him like a magnet. His wings surrounded me as he brought me in. I could feel the cold chains surrounding him and the warmth of his wings, hands and body. He looked in my eyes, turned my head and sang / whispered, "I thank you."
I felt the sting of his bite on my neck and the euphoric song whispered in my heart. The flames of hell developed me and when I awoke I was the one bound in chains, surrounded by the demon's star.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
His owner came in, his excuses thin, and we took him anyway.
Just one more day that people came in and walked on by. Not a glance, not a nod, only the look back to whisper goodbye.
Just one more day, you seemed to cry, it was one more day- a new owner to find, just one more day that didn't come, THAT one more day I couldn't find.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
"Ares," Zues kept asking, "why do you cause such pain and discontent?"
My answer always the same, "War, it's Euphoric, Zues, Like a drug i can't get enough of- you of all the Gods should understand with your having to bang every beautiful mortal woman you can find."
Its been too long since i've felt it, the hartred boiling in my veins, the excitment rushing in my head, and the taste of fear on my tongue. I stand ready amongst the men on the winning side waiting for the battle cry, the one that says "Fight this war and win!"
Cutting and slashing, blocking and punching, the fear in their eyes as I take off their head or spew their guts all over the ground with my sword, the stentch of death everywhere, RED- the color of home, the color of blood, the color of everything I now see and of everything I hold most dear.