It’s got me going crazy. My words are hazy, I’m feeling lazy. Got me wishing I could throw out like Scorsese. Stories not films but just as impressive. One after another, aggressive and successive. Expressive of the musings in my head that the umbra has fed, they’re as heavy as lead, I’m immersed until they’re dispersed or at the very least escape through a momentary outburst, I’m cursed. I’m broken. Like a record that just keeps skipping, my sanity is slipping, out of my mind it’s dripping, it’s stripping, taking any talent away I possessed, I’ve digressed, and now I’m obsessed with a miraculous return, one so hot it’ll give you heartburn. I will rise up so don’t fret with your concern, I’ve learned where the passion sits and I swear to never be call it quits, regardless. There’s always a darkness that once wordless becomes paved with catharsis and lives. It breathes. And through the haze it seethes while you grieve. It heaves becoming my saving grace to once again show face with words that were once misplaced, erased, and misconstrued. I’ve been subdued, not lazy, maybe I am hazy for now I’m thinking if I can’t throw out like Martin, why not Swayze? Yeah, I’m crazy.
Im a rebel without a cause, or more importantly, Im a writer without words. Actually, for all intents and purposes, im not a writer at all. Im just a person that occassionaly decides to write. That doesnt make me anymore different than any other person out there. I have ideas so I suppose you could call me creative. A writer though? I dont even know what that is anymore.
I thought I had a passion like no other for writing. I even have two permaneant tattoos that grace my body that pertain to that passion. Some how though, even with my body donning those declarations, the most important tattoo of them all, faded. While it wasnt created in ink upon my skin, it was one I never assumed I would see go. The portrait of passion had been etched across my heart since I was a child. Now, The only remnants of that portrait is a scar left behind from being stratigically lasered out while I wasnt looking.
Some where, in-between different hobbies and family, I allowed myself to let it go. I allowed myself to cut out what I once envinsioned to be my most important tattoo.
I still think about the passion I had. Thats all I ever do about it though, think about it. The thoughts rarely become words and I go back to asking myself why? I used to say that I just didn’t have the time. Then I just said there wasn’t motivation to do anything. It was then I realized that the idea of motivation had more to it. That it was passion that fueled motivation. It was then, that I understood that the passion was gone.
I had already cut ties with other blogs I participated on and any other networking I was doing outside of my Twitter account. I knew it was fading then. I had no responsibilities to the writing world anymore except for those I created myself. It was actually freedom. I had one less thing to worry about outside of my every day life. That right there speaks volumes as to rather or not I still carried around the passion. The answer was so obvious. It’s still so very obvious. I have the scar there to prove it. And yet…
I still get that inkling. Just every once in a while. The ideas still pop up and my fingers become itchy. My mind roams and my thoughts land on writing. I still think about it. I still want to do it. But not always. Hardly ever. It’s still there though and it bugs the shit out of me.
I honestly wish I could erase the memories of the passion I had for it. How enthusiastic I could be when I was putting my ideas into the written word. I wish I could stop the ideas from coming. Since I can’t, it just leaves me confused.
What does this mean? Is the passion truly gone or just being over shadowed by life? Are the ideas just remnants of the creative bone that is now broken? Cause let’s be honest, I could never seem to finish a damn thing I worked on.
Am I writer on hiatus or just a person with a random hobby? Do I lack passion or motivation? Do I fight to bring it back or do I just let it slip all the way until it’s gone?
In all honesty, my confusion is due to my incessant depression that tends to loom over my head. Most days I can’t tell if how I am is due to that or if I just blame that because it’s easier. Is my lack of passion for anything because of that or have I become lazy and uncaring as life continues to move on?
It seems like a million questions without a single answer. I’m left with only speculation because even I don’t know myself well enough to give the answers. The only thing I know for sure is that at this moment, the passion, the life force that made my writing enjoyable and easy, is gone.
As I walked through the threshold, of my once childhood home, you could tell that it had been condemned. It was left behind by the world to fester in its own putrid filth. Blood was still every where. Splattered among the living room walls like an art project. The foul smell of death still permeated throughout the house which caused bile to rise within my throat with every breathe I took. I could hear the rats scampering within the remnants of garbage that was spewed on the floors as I attempted to walk further in. Every little step made me want to turn and run. Every breathe made me want to die.
When I agreed to revisit my past, I had no idea I’d be physically walking back into it. I guess after the sins committed within the walls of this home, no one would wish to live here again. Why bother removing the damage? They could have at least demolished the house to rid the world of such a disgraced scene. It would have kept me from walking through here now.
But no. Here it stood and here I walked. Reliving every vile memory each time I laid my eyes upon something of familiarity. That may have been the purpose for my visit but it didn’t mean I had to like it.
If my father wasn’t facing a fate worse than death, I would not be here now. He deserved every chance that could be provided to him to avoid his treatment. Especially since he didn’t deserve it. The justice system felt otherwise due to accumulated ‘evidence’ and therefore 15 years later, on April 26, 2042, Ronin Lescalete, was labeled a murderer.
If they knew my father, even an ounce of him, they would have known he wasn’t capable of the kind of darkness it took to pull off such a feat. They were blind though. Blind with the fury of an unsolved case. My father disappeared that dreaded night, thought to have been disposed of. The more time that passed without finding a culprit or any evidence leading to anyone outside of the house, they began to believe the acts were committed by my father and he fled to avoid capture.
I told them otherwise. I was there. I saw everything. My father and I were cuffed together at the bottom of our stairwell, forced to watch as my sister hung from the ceiling upside down, screaming. Blood dripping off of her body with each tiny slice that monster created. Sprays of blood with each artery he slashed. My brother was next, put out of his misery with a swift jab to the carotid artery and then thrown to the side. Then my mother. Her head nearly taken off with a machete. A clean slice across her neck and then tossed like a rag-doll. My father and I were in shock and clinging onto one another for support. I was only 7 at the time, but I knew what was happening and I knew that I was next. I could tell by the look on my fathers face that he knew it too.
I watched that monster come towards us, preparing to grab his next victim. My dad whispered for me to be brave and held onto me tightly. The second the cuffs were off of me, my dad fought hard. He was still cuffed to the stairs but he did everything he could to give me the time to run. I remember hearing muffled sounds coming from my father as he was being brutally beaten. I tried to drown the world out and focus on the only task that mattered. Getting away.
I accomplished my task, but for what? To spend the rest of my days in fear? In sadness? I went for 15 years believing I was a sole survivor of a horrific event, only to find out that the man who gave his life for me, was still alive. Well, now I have purpose again.
My father emerged on the 15th anniversary of what was eventually dubbed as the “Red Wall Massacre”, bloody, bruised, and unconscious. That same day, another family had fallen victim to the same fates as mine. Obviously the law didn’t take into account coincidences. If they knew my father they would have known better. If they would have listened to me, this wouldn’t be happening. To them, I was a confused, scared, child and they couldn’t take my eyewitness account as creditable evidence.
So, Here I am, standing in the very spot that my sister lost all of her blood. Trying to remember every single little detail. Trying to trigger any little bit in my head that had once been blocked out of that monster. Anything that can help me find this bastard who took my family and my life. Anything to save my father, the man who saved me, from a fate worse than death. To remove the murderer label before time runs out. In previous days that would have gotten you a stint in the local penitentiary for a few years to life. Maybe even the death penalty. Now though, that title will procreate a different outcome. “Distortion”.The new treatment government officials hailed to be the newest miracle cure for the criminally insane.
At first, the idea of ‘Distortion’ seemed like a breathe of fresh air. A simple injection to take away a persons dark intentions. An injection that would allow jails to be a safer place for rehabilitation instead of a place filled with chaos. It allowed people to be released on probation much quicker which led to less and less over-crowded jails. When ‘Distortion’ became a natural implement of society, the government became greedy and lazy. Instead of just trying to protect the safety of the citizens from repeat offenders they started to use ‘Distortion’ in attempts to stop the crime before it happened. The idea was a noble one but very unstable.
It started with lesser offenses and then progressed to simple traffic stops. If you did anything that broke the law in any way, you were subjected to some sort of dose of ‘Distortion’.It may not seem like a bad thing but the treatment did more than take away the bad intentions. It took away all intentions. Depending on the dosage, the outcome varied between feeling overly happy all of the time, to becoming a nullified zombie. It took away the crime but it also took away the purity of the human race. The true happiness, the anger, the fear, the sadness. It took away everything that made us who we were.
The government has even been in talks about administering the treatment to family members of offenders as well. A new way of stopping the activity before it happens. Apparently criminal activity is now being linked to DNA and treated as a disease. In my opinion, the only true disease of this society is stupidity and power.
Some how, with this asinine justice system, I needed to find the true murderer before my father fell victim to their new world advances; so that not only would he be safe from ‘Distortion’, but so would I. Maybe in proving their mislead actions of the treatments use, it would help provoke just enough steam for the right people to take action in a proper, long time coming, uprising.
“Rosalyn!” My fathers lawyer, Cain, yelled my name to pull me away from my thoughts, it was always so easy to get lost there.
I was surprised Cain was even here helping, but I think he just felt obligated, once being a friend of the family. It wasn’t very often nowadays that lawyers even existed. Since the treatment, the system was finding their way around trials and therefore no longer needed legal representation. With my fathers case being 15 years old, Cain made a scene declaring that since society was not as “advanced” then “Ronin Lescalete deserved the proper trial of his time but if found guilty would be administered the current punishments.” I still don’t know how Cain pulled that one off because in my opinion he was just spouting off nonsense. It’s not like “Distortion” wasn’t in the regiment 15 years ago and already phasing out the system. Some how, Cain must have had some sort of clout with the big guys in the government. I didn’t bother to ask questions.
I shook my head slightly and turned towards Cain, who was still standing at the front door. I doubt he wanted to risk getting anything on his fancy shoes. He was always one for fashion, even during the days when it was frowned upon. He practically lived in a 3 piece suit. I wasn’t one to complain though. He may have been twice my age but I couldn’t deny the appeal oozing off of him. “Yeah?”
“We really shouldn’t be here. Just look at this place. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have allowed this.”
I walked over towards Cain with ferocity gleaming in my eyes and crunching noises beneath my feet “You wouldn’t have allowed this? I hate to tell you this Cain but you have no control over me. I greatly appreciate your assistance with my father but unless you have any other better ideas, I suggest you just keep your mouth shut. I’m going to do anything I possibly can to help find this person. I really don’t care what you have to say about it or even what the government says about it. I am breaking no laws here so you all are free to go to hell.” I turned back around and started walking throughout the house. Scanning every possible inch that could possibly provoke a reaction to my thoughts.
I started to hear movement behind me and I could tell that Cain finally choked up the nerve to dirty his image a bit. “You’re right. Lets do this then.” He put his hand on the small of back and started to ease me forward slightly. He wanted to show me that I had him for support. I was just happy he didn’t keep arguing with me. “You know Ros, just because we are here, doesn’t mean something is going to happen. There is no guarantee that anything will trigger a lost memory. This could all be a waste of time”
I shivered slightly at being called “Ros” but I ignored it for it was not the time to complain of unwanted nicknames. I just looked up at Cain’s 6’1” body towering over my 5’4” and tried to find his dark blue eyes that I remembered he had. He was too focused on what was ahead of him, so I returned to the same. “Thank you Mr. Negativity. I appreciate your words of wisdom” I rolled my eyes and continued my study.
If I were to be completely honest with myself, I didn’t have a whole lot of faith in what I was trying to accomplish either. It was a long shot but it may have been my only shot.
Thirty minutes later and I had felt defeated. I was standing at the stairwell and just collapsed onto the bottom step. I didn’t even care about the filth I was putting myself in. Nothing happened and nothing was going to. It was useless. “You were right. We shouldn’t have came. This was just a waste of time.”
I looked up in the direction of where I had seen Cain standing, out of the corner of my eye, but he was gone.
I wasn’t unlocking memories but I was obviously going insane. Just a short time back in this house and I was already losing my mind. I guess it was inevitable really.
“Cain!” I tried to yell loud enough for him to hear me from any part of the house. When I received silence as my response, I figured he wasn’t actually in any part of the house. He must have gone outside. I didn’t blame him one bit.
I started to join him when I heard a creaking noise coming from up the stairs. I hadn’t thought once about going up there since my missing memories were all linked to this level of the house. Now, my curiosity was going to get the best of me and detour my thoughts into a direction that would snuff out any chance of remembering what I had lost.
I slowly crepe up the stairs and continued to listen for any other sounds. When I reached the top step I could hear something coming from my parents old bedroom. I made my way towards the room half expecting a giant rat to come running towards me. Instead of a rat, I found Cain walking out carrying a box.
“What are you doing up here?”
“Just looking around for some old memories of my own. I actually found an unopened package sitting on your fathers old desk. Here.” Cain handed me the box and I began to tear off the tape to see what was inside.
“Cufflinks. Huh. I wonder why he never opened them.” I flipped them around in my hand to view them better and then began to hand them over to Cain. “Here. You should take these. You were his friend and you also have more of a use for them then I would.” I dropped them in his hand and turned to walk back down the stairs.
“Ros, wait. Are you sure?”
There it was again. I cracked my neck and ignored it the best I could. “Yeah, of course Cain.”
I continued my trek back down the stairs, thinking it was time to head out. As I reached the bottom, I decided to wait for Cain to join me. As I waited, I glanced around my old home, one last time. I would never allow myself to walk back into these walls once I walked out of them, I knew that. I also knew that my chances of helping my father were now non existent. Another painful acknowledgment I had to continue to live with.
As Cain reached the bottom steps, I headed towards the exit with a huge sigh escaping my lips.
“Its alright Ros, at least you tried. That’s what counts.”
I stopped at the door and glanced back at his face. “Ya know, I never really liked that.”
“Ros. I don’t like being called that. Ever since…” But I couldn’t remember. There was a reason why I hated that, I knew it, but I couldn’t make it come forward. I cocked my head to the side while still looking at Cain, trying to rattle something lose. He started to narrow his eyes in my direction and then placed his hands in his pockets while tilting his head back to me. “Since, I don’t know.” I couldn’t fight the feeling that it was time to leave the house now. I turned quickly and started to take that last step away from my past.
Within seconds, instead of fresh air on my face, my back was to a wall and a knife was to my throat as he gripped me tightly so I couldn’t escape. I never saw it coming but maybe I should have. Ros, that was it. That was the trigger, and now, with his eyes staring into mine and the feel of cold steel on my throat, I saw it all.
“It was you.” I furrowed my brows and glared back into his deceiving eyes. Even with a knife to my throat and arms around my waist I still wouldn’t stop looking for answers.
“Why kill them?”
“I was bored?” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. “Why would I tell you anything? Why give you the satisfaction of knowing? No. I’d rather keep you wondering until the day you die.”
“In like a minute? That sounds like pure torture.”
“Such a smart mouth Rosalyn. Even at a time like this, your sarcasm seeps through. I actually have something far better than death for you my dear. Since I have lost access to my previous test subject, you will now be as so kind to take his place. With a murder under your belt, that will be easy to accomplish. All will be well once again within the Faction. Close your eyes dear it’ll be over soon.”
“You’re full of shit Cain. I’ve never killed anyone and I will not be reduced to becoming a test subject.”
“Whatever darling. You have and you will. You just don’t know it yet. I have many powers and persuasion is probably the best.”
I tried to turn my head to the side so I no longer had to look in his eyes. The second I moved though, I could feel the blade begin to slice upon my throat. I knew I had no way out. “Please just tell me what happened then.”
“So I’m supposed to give you my big confession now? Give you every ounce of ammunition that I have to be used against me? Why the hell not, right? You won’t be getting out of this anyway.” He gently cleared his throat and continued his egotistical ramblings. “Your father and I were close friends until Distortion came into the picture. When things started to really take off for it, they offered your father and I jobs in the research department for Distortion. They thought that lawyers who already had first hand experience with criminals would come in hand. We both accepted the jobs and within doing so, started the creation of the Faction. When we learned more about the advancements they had planned to make in the coming years, Ronin wanted to back out. Those a part of the Faction agreed that we obviously couldn’t have that. He knew too much of what was planned.”
“So your plan was to kill us all? The Faction? The ones who we have been told are supposed to be so against any and all crime?”
“Well no, the plan was to threaten the deaths of your family to get your father to comply. I thought he would listen to me. His long time friend, but no. So the torture began. I had intended to make it stop but it seemed like something inside of me awoke and not only couldn’t I stop it, I didn’t want to. I enjoyed every bit of it. The slicing, the screaming, and most of all, the blood dripping.
I cringed and felt my stomach gurgle. I wanted to vomit but I also wanted to keep him talking. If this was the end of the line, it would be nice to at least have some closure.
“And my father? Why not kill him like the rest?”
“That’s the fun part. I made an executive decision to keep him alive to run diagnostics on. It was brilliant really. I mean how else were we going to make advancements without test subjects? Over the past 15 years I have accomplished a lot. I have turned the Faction into a completely separate unit of the government. It has turned into something no one ever expected but everything the world needs. A new face for the world and I am in control of that. Your father almost ruined it all for me.”
“Why’d you let him go then?”
“Ronin? I didn’t. He escaped. You would have thought after so many years he would have given up on that. He was always strong willed though. I should have known really. However, the Distortion was too strong in his system to make it very far. It was the Factions responsibility to get to him first since we let him escape but for some reason, that didn’t happen.”
“The other murders then?”
“That was me. I had taken a small dose of Distortion after I killed your family so I could rid myself of those nasty little thoughts. I mean, I couldn’t very well build greatness if I was constantly thinking about taking peoples lives, now could I? Things were obviously going great but the thoughts and feelings, well, they started to return. I decided to make use of a bad situation. I figured if we were going to lose our test subject then we’d better make sure there was no doubt in anyone’s mind. He had to be put away and kept on Distortion.”
“If you knew that he was going to be locked up indefinitely then why did you even interfere with his case? Why stand up in defense of his name?”
“You started snooping. I Couldn’t take any chances. It was bad enough we had to worry about Ronin spouting off nonsense. I mean, no one would believe him but why risk everything we had been working towards? It seemed like you weren’t going to accomplish much but you surprised me. Its my fault really. How stupid of me to continually use a name I once called you whilst destroying your family. I was worried that you being here alone would have sealed my fate, but in the end, I sealed my own. Its okay. I really do need a new test subject anyway.”
He let go of my waist and in a matter of seconds I felt a pinch in my neck and then all there was, was darkness.
I slowly opened up my eyes feeling as if I had been sleeping for days. I couldn’t even move because my body was strapped down to a bed. I tried to lift my head up slightly to get a glimpse of my surroundings but I was quickly pulled back down by a nest of wires connected to my head and body.
“Oh good. You are finally awake. Guards, its time to arrest her now and get her prepared for her treatment.”
“What!” I frantically tried to get up again but i was restrained by two men wearing all black uniforms.
“Please calm down Ms., you are just making this harder on yourself.” The woman was speaking from somewhere within the room but I couldn’t tell from where.
I didn’t understand what was going on. Why were these guys being told to arrest me. What had Cain done?
The men started tearing off the wires and lifting me off of the bed and carrying me across the room. I started kicking and screaming with ferocity. There was no way I was just going to give up now. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on! Why are you doing this?”
“Because of the induced simulation. We implanted memories in your head to produce possible reactions. Don’t you remember Ms. Lescalete? You did sign the papers after all. You knew this as a possible outcome.”
There was a brunette woman standing up from the desk across the room. She just stood there, staring at me. I was so confused and an explanation of an induced simulation just made everything even worse. The last thing I remembered was Cain holding me. How did that, become this. “What are you telling me?”
In that second, in walks Cain. Still in his three piece suit. “Ms. Lescalete, its so wonderful for you to have finally woken up. We thought maybe we lost you to your other reality.”
“Cain, you bastard. Get me out of here!.” I started screaming violently and glanced towards the brunette “He killed my family! Please.”
Everyone just started laughing at me. They either didn’t believe me or they were all under Cain’s thumb. I would have moved more towards the latter.
“Rosalyn dear, my name is not Cain.” I stared at him blankly not sure what he was trying to pull. “My name is Adam.”
“No.” I shook my head vigorously “You’re lying. All of this is a lie! There was no simulation. Everything that I know in my head, is real! Where is my father?”
Cain shook his head as if he were feeling sad for me “You really remember nothing, do you? Rosalyn, you don’t have a family my dear. They died during a house fire when you were a child. You were at school when it had happened. When you lost your family you were taken in by the Evangeline Church where the sisters took care of you and raised you. It saddens me to see this now. After being raised the way you were and still simulating crime. Oh Rosalyn.”
Cain looked toward the men still holding my arms. “Go ahead and take her away.”
“Wait, no, please. What is going on?” I was pleading at this point. Had I really lost my mind? Is this the truth?
Cain held his hand up for them to hold off and then walked over to the desk to pull out a piece of paper. “This is the signed form you’ve given to allow us to perform said simulation on you. The simulation was to tell rather or not you would be capable to commit a crime in the future.”
“Its something we are beginning to implement into the society as a new standardized test. You volunteered to help test the injection based simulation.”
“I would have never of done that!”
Cain then shoved the paper he pulled from the desk, into my face. “This signature says otherwise.”
“No! There is no way.”
Cain walked away again to sit the paper back down. “You really are too far gone for explanations. The bottom line here is, because you agreed to these terms, you will now be put on our highest dose of Distortion and put in a facility.” He walked towards me once again. “You committed murder during your simulation. It shows that you are capable of such and now we are obliged to put a stop to that. Don’t you want to put a stop to that? To protect other people from yourself? I mean, isn’t that why you signed the paper in the first place?”
“No. This isn’t happening. There is no way I would have agreed to something like that.”
“Adam, what would you like us to do?” One of the guards asked while tightening his grip on my arm.
Cain,(or perhaps, really Adam) waived his hand in the air. “Take her away for good this time gentlemen”
I couldn’t help but wonder just how I was able to forget all of this. There was my signature though, right on that paper. I signed it. This is all really happening. Who was I?
As they dragged me past Adam, he smirked towards me and then tilted his head down to my ear.
“Cain really is a better fitting name though, isn’t it my dear? By the way, these Cufflinks go perfect with this suit.” He flashed his wrist in my line of sight so I could see them before he started laughing and walking away.
I was speechless. I couldn’t even scream as they continued to drag me right out of the room.
It was over. I failed. I knew Cain had pull with the government and practically built the Faction but I never expected something like this. A scheme so advanced that he nearly fooled me too. He really was a monster. He took my family. Now he has taken me. Soon with the new advances of Distortion, he will find a way to take over all of the people of the new world. Distortion was a beginning to an end.
Is it really my daughters sole purpose in life to defy me and drive me crazy? If so, she’s doing an outstanding job, and if not, well, it definitely should be.
Since 8 this morning my daughter’s breakfast has been sitting on her table. Just two simple poptarts. I have repeatedly asked her to sit down and eat. It is now 11 and both still remain untouched. The big problem here is that we need to leave in 15 minutes to go somewhere. We can’t be late. Since at least 10, I have been pushing the idea of eating her food and getting dressed, while seriously stressing our time issue.
11:01, she’s eating but she’s not dressed. All the while taking bites slower than a snail and finding the smallest of things to complain about instead of trying to finish up.
She’s 5. I suppose it’s to be expected and it’s natural but I swear she does this on purpose. Every time I put a time frame on something for her it just seems like she automatically begins to move slower. I get it, she can’t tell time, but when mommy says “we need to get ready to leave the house” I would think that would procure a bit more of reaction than none at all.
She’s spacey and has no idea how to manage time and I have no idea how to make this better. 11:06, still eating, not dressed…. We are so going to be late.
Honesty is the best policy. Right? Well I think now is a great time for a little of my honesty.
I have been attempting to run this blog for the past couple of months. I say attempting because I really don’t know a whole hell of a lot about doing it properly. It is what it is though and I have tried my best to continually post things on a schedule and even recruit others to join. I have failed on occasion. Including this week actually. I haven’t posted anything yet. No “Poem of the Week”, no submissions from other writers, not even anything I have written. I suppose that makes me somewhat of a failure. Maybe it just means I don’t care too much about the blog. Could it possibly mean that I don’t give a shit about writing anymore?
What it really is, is that I am tired.
I want to be a writer. “But you are” you might say. I suppose that’s true but really, there isn’t much I have written lately. Almost everything I have posted with my name attached are older works I have previously written. Recently the only thing I have been good at doing is simply editing, pushing the publish button, and advertising. I would no longer use the word “writer” to describe who I am anymore. Though I wish I could. I’m sure the writer is still there but it doesn’t like to come out when it’s asked to. Therein lies the reason why I am tired.
I’ve never been a fan of deadlines. I have always despised schedules. Yet here I’ve been, trying to force words to come forth when I just haven’t had them. I have always believed in writing when you felt like you had to. Writing when the ideas came. I never wanted to be someone that wrote because they were “made to” but solely because they wanted to. For the simple reason of feeling that passion building within and words begging to be scrawled. So now, I am tired of trying. Tired of trying to force the ideas when they aren’t ready. I’m tired of conforming to a set schedule that my mind and heart just aren’t in sync with right now.
So as of right now, there is no longer a schedule to the blog. At least not one I will be implementing for the time being. What used to be posts on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, will now be posts whenever I have them and can publish them.
The email address is still open for submissions to the site. I will post them if and when they come in. That will not change. My work however may become scarce for a bit or it may all of a sudden become abundant. It’s an unpredictable force of nature.
The bottom line is that I don’t know when the words will come, and honestly, that’s kind of the best part.
#writer #amwriting #writing #honesty #update #musings #thoughts #schedules #ranting #blog #blogging #posting
Part III is finally here!! See how Brick’s revenge is coming along……
Walking the streets of Manizales was probably the worst thing Brick could possibly be doing right now. He really couldn’t afford to be out in the open but he needed a few more fittings to make his idea come to life. The risk of exposure was worth finding the essential parts that would build the device that would put an end to the diabolical human lives that caused him pain.
After some time wandering, trying to remain incognito, Brick was able to collect all of his pieces to create his own instrument of burning death. A homemade flamethrower.
It was a thing of beauty. It wasn’t high tech and it wasn’t perfect but knowing the damage it would create is what made the finished sight a true artistry vision. He couldn’t have asked for a better weapon to accomplish his task, for after Brick saw Juan’s hit-man within the flames engulfing his hotel room, he knew that would be the way he would see Juan die as well. It was only fitting since his beloved Genie had been taken from him in the same manner. An eye for an eye has always been a motto Brick understood since working with the CIA but he never truly made it apart of his own personal life until he felt his own building heat escape through the cracks of his broken heart.
It had been mere days since Brick watched Genie’s flesh smolder among the flames in the home they once shared. It felt like years however since Brick never once stopped thinking about it. Sixty seconds per minute with sixty minutes per hour, twenty four hours a day with seven days a week, all lead to far more seconds in Bricks lifetime that he had wished to relive the worst moments of his life. He spent a lot of those seconds wondering how Genie would feel about his plans to smite those that took her. He wondered if she would disapprove. At the end of every one of those thoughts though, he offered his own view. He was a killer. Genie never knew that about him but he knew it and he couldn’t hide that fact from himself. He lived his life killing those who wronged others in some way and even though this wouldn’t be a government sanctioned act, he couldn’t not provide the kind of action that had always been expected of him. An assassin to the core and he would not, could not, change that now. He only hoped that if Genie could see him now, she would understand.
Dressed in all black from head to toe, even donning a black ski mask as well for initial camouflage, and a homemade flamethrower attached to his back, his silhouette was as daunting as any monster you would see stalking within the night. His looks were nothing unusual to him but the feelings within his chest had become a new found beast that he was fighting to rein in, at least for the time being. After all of Brick’s planning, there was no way he wanted anything to be spoiled before he could even get inside of Juan’s compound. Everything had to be carefully calculated so that his own death didn’t come before his more important burning revenge. Brick was most definitely ready for this and even if he wasn’t, he no longer had a choice. He could feel the constant rumbling within his chest letting him know the beast within would not be tamed any longer and who was he to deny the beast what he so rightfully sought after? It was time to begin.
Juan Escobar, the self proclaimed drug lord, would undoubtedly be expecting Brick to make a move on his compound. Juan had to of known by now that his hit-man had failed his assassination attempt. Even so, the extra man power that Juan would have certainly employed to guard his property and himself, was no match for the training and resilience that Brick had on his side. Brick hid behind trees and rolled in-between the multiple spotlights shining throughout the grounds. It felt as if he were attempting to break into a prison, something Brick had previously and successfully done in his past. There were a few guards that were on patrol but they had seemed to be more interested in cigarettes and chit chat verses proper guarding techniques. Needless to say, they were easy to sneak around.
Brick reached, what seemed to be, the last piece of shrubbery on the grounds before the entrance to Juan’s mansion was the only place left to go.
There were two men standing like statues on both sides of the entryway armed with semi automatics on their sides. Both men were built in the same manner as the hit-man that approached Brick in his hotel. They were well over 6 feet and exhibited tattooed covered bodies and bulging biceps. A small challenge to get pass had anyone but Brick tried. Foreseeing the amount of added security, Brick made sure to bring backup to his flamethrower. He reached down to his ankle and unholstered his PT-1911 while simultaneously grabbing a suppressor from his other. A few twists and another few more seconds allotted for aiming before two shots were swiftly fired. There was only silence as Brick watched the bullets pierce through the skulls of the men that were once standing in his way. There was no waiting for their death, it was instant, and their slumped bodies with pooling blood from their bullet wounds on the door mat, confirmed that even more.
A quick search of his surroundings to ensure there was no one else around, and then without falter, Brick stepped over the fallen bodies and through the threshold to his final destination. Whilst inside, Brick continued his spy tactics as he made his way through to the top of the mansion scouring for Juan. A few henchman appeared as he made his way throughout but were swiftly dealt with by either a quick choke-hold causing enough air loss for unconsciousness or a silenced bullet to the head. It was all a cake walk for Brick after spending almost 20 years within the CIA on missions just like this one. The only difference was this time around was that this job was personal. Brick could feel the difference inside of his chest with every step that he took. His heart began to beat faster the closer he came to the closed doors to which he knew Juan was behind. His heart wasn’t beating out of fear though, it was racing with anticipation.
It was eerily quiet as Brick approach the double doors which led to the only room left within the house. Kicking the doors open and then standing back, he peered around the corners of the door frame expecting an explosion of gunfire in retaliation. All Brick saw was and empty room with Juan sitting behind a giant marble desk.
“I see you’ve managed to pass my men.” Juan was cold and emotionless as he sat with a straight back and firm expression.
“It was rather anticlimactic actually.” Brick made a notable gesture of glancing throughout the room. “I mean, I was half expecting a room full of guards or at the very least for you to be greeting me with a M-16A1 machine gun and asking me to say hello.” Brick smirked and tilted his head to the side awaiting for a response.
Juan chuckled a bit and then stood up from his chair. “I think that would have been a bit cliché but yes, I see the humor there. Next time?” It was Juan’s turn to cock his head to the side.
“I don’t think there will be a next time Juan.”
“I figured as much. Which is why it’s just me here. If you were able to get through all that was bestowed upon you as just one man than I surely deserve whatever you’ve planned. You’re definitely a worthy adversary and knowing my father was killed by you makes it sting a little less.”
Brick was taken aback by the words he was hearing. He didn’t know how to react or respond. Was this a ruse to gain sympathy? If so, it was actually working slightly. How was he to end Juan’s life as he just stood before him unarmed and full of praise, practically asking for death?
“You’re full of shit Juan. Should I really stand here and believe that you are okay with me killing you? That you are now all of a sudden at peace with your fathers assassination? You are doing nothing but trying to gain the upper hand and make me falter in my decision. Revenge is a powerful thing Juan. You already know that though since you’ve proactively attempted to take yours on me.”
Juan’s mouth tips up a little on the side and his eyes begin to gleam. “You truly are talented. You’re right. I still smell the stench of copper every time I think of my father. I still taste the sourness of revenge on my tongue as I awake daily. For such a short time though, that taste of revenge was sweet and I would love nothing more than to have that back now. I have just been trying to buy some time for the back up that is now arriving through the front gates.” Juan allows a sinister laugh to escape from his mouth. “So that at least if I don’t make it out of here, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that neither will you.”
Brick should have known the tactic. Should have seen it a mile away. He never faltered on a mission before, but of course, this was different than any other. Brick had only seconds to make his decisions and he had to make them knowing he would soon be bombarded by more henchman as he attempted to flee. He glanced around the room once more and then remembered his work of art strapped to his back. He knew exactly what he would do now.
Gun in one hand and his other now wrapped around the nozzle to his flamethrower, he shot out both of Juan’s knee caps with one swift motion. With his swiftness, Juan never saw it coming. “I think it’s time to end the banter. Thanks for the heads up but I know that I’ll be the only one receiving revenge tonight. Morirás ”
Juan lay on the ground unable to move, staring up at Brick in disbelief. He obviously thought he had more time, a way out. There was no more waiting though, not for Brick. If he wanted to get out alive, he had to do it now.
With one sweep of his arm across the room, the place was now engulfed with the flames that spewed forth from the flamethrowers nozzle. There was no escape for Juan for he could no longer walk. He would burn alive in that room.
Closing the doors behind him, he made his way back out the way he came. As he moved throughout the house Brick proceeded to light everything he saw in flames so that when he would look behind, he felt as if he were walking straight out of hell.
Stray men had begun to make their way towards him as he made his departure but just as when he came in, he made quick disposal of them. With a bullet to their head or a flame covered body, each person he came across was disposed of. Some he even just injured so that they could feel the wrath of the flames licking away at their skin.
He finally made his way out the front doors and into the fresh air leaving behind the mass destruction he had created. He lit the front of the house up and then through his flamethrower into the flames that it had created. There was a small explosion as it was tossed within and Brick smiled as he turned and walked further away from the fire. He was far enough away to be clear of debris so he turned back around to look upon what damage he brought upon his enemy. At that moment he felt relief.
It was over. He fell to his knees in one swift movement and let out a gut wrenching moan. Slowly his moans became louder and louder until they turned into screams and heavy sobs. Tears began to stream down his face with a fierce conviction. Brick finally felt a weight lift off of his shoulders and began to feel a sense of peace as he watched Juan Escobar’s mansion burn to the ground with his still beating heart within. He even thought he could hear the faint screams of Juan and a few of his men as their flesh continued to burn from their bodies. Guttural sounds that once broke Bricks heart, now brought him a sense of twisted pleasure. Screams of the damned. Screams of the condemned and the soulless filling the air as they welcome their own just desserts for the lives they had chosen. The screams quickly faded though as well as the peace Brick had begun to feel.
He heard it before he felt it; the click of a P226 glock’s hammer being cocked back, right behind him. The standard sidearm of choice for US government agencies, was now being nudged into the back of his head, locked and most certainly loaded. Brick quickly turned his abundance of tears into menacing cackles. His laughter continued to grow as he slowly began to stand up.
“Not even five fucking minutes of happiness. You couldn’t even give me that? You are one sad son of a bitch Rialdo.”
The second hand ticked on my watch louder with each passing moment as it rested on the counter. Along with each tick it produced, a droplet of blood fell from where the watch once sat on my wrist. Instead of horizontally, what sat there now vertically stretched the length of my inner arm.
I stared at the wound as the red liquid continued to pool outside of its home, faster and faster and then slower and slower. I expected pain, but there was none. I expected clarity but that never came. What I had, was beauty. Pure inner beauty, finding it’s release. What a sight that was to fall asleep to. Such a wonderful sight indeed.
Drinking is my ultimate downfall. Some days it turns me into someone I’m not. Or at least someone I like to hide. It kills certain demons just long enough for others to emerge. For that alone is a demon in itself. One that gets stronger every time I give in. Every time I stop fighting is another step closer to a final demolition. An internal destruction. A battle that I lost long before it started for my strength diminishes with every taste of temporary bliss. It flees at a moments notice and cowers within the darkest depths of my soul. Strength, which I now know as a permanent weakness, will soon flounder among the ruins of myself that get left behind. The demons will soon feast on remnants to make them all but non existent. That’s what drinking is. It’s a killer and one that most days I still happily allow entrance. For a simple taste of death is all it takes to want it to be a permanent residence.
(I’ve been keeping this one under wraps for some time because I just haven’t had it in me to finish part II. However, I’m desperate to post something, lol. Hopefully my brain will start working soon. In the meantime, please like my blog and my Facebook page “Here”. Thank you for your support in my writing journey and even through my severe blocks. I hope you enjoy this short about a war on the horizon. Not even fully declared and already there are casualties.)
Enmity Amongst Souls – Part I
“même dans la mort tu es ma vie”
I let a tear slip down my cheek and then I slowly slid my hand over Kerri’s lifeless eyes to close her lids. I could no longer bare to look into her once brilliant blue eyes to only be greeted with emptiness where so much life used to reside.
I began to cradle her head once more when I started to feel a tug on my upper arm. I tried so hard to avoid it. Whatever was pulling me away, I just couldn’t let it. I couldn’t be taken from Kerri. Not even in death. For even though she lay in my arms, no longer responsive, she was still the life that flowed within my veins.
“We have to go…” Words were said but they came through more like small whispers upon the wind being carried from miles away. There was a nagging in the back of my mind though that was telling me otherwise. I continuously tried to shut it out but as another tug came upon my arm, it was bolted forward once again.
“We have to go now Grayson. More will be coming.” I shook my head vigorously and yanked my arm back. No. I was not leaving. I would not leave.
I began to hold Kerri even tighter refusing to let her go. “Dammit Grayson, I’m not going to let you stay here to die. They will come. Let’s go.”
An even more forceful tug came, causing me to drop Kerri’s head from my arms and snap my mind back to a slice of reality.
Cam wanted me to go. He wanted me to leave the reason for my life behind me. To run from what took that life from me. They would come. I knew they would too but I just couldnt budge.
“No. I won’t. I can’t leave her.” I frantically gathered up her head once more and laid it upon my lap.
“I will drag your fucking ass down this alley. Grayson, she’s gone. Okay? I’m so sorry but we can’t just sit here and allow for grieving right now. She did not die so that you can just sit here and weep until they killed you too. Get the hell up and let’s go.”
Tears pooled out of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks landing upon Kerri’s pale, still, face. I stared blankly at the drops knowing full well that my best friend, my partner, was right. She was gone. She sacrificed herself for me and I shouldn’t allow that to go unnoticed. Her life would always reside inside of me so why could I not walk away?
“I just can’t leave her body Cam. It’s not right.”
“If you don’t, you’ll body will be next to hers. You know she wouldn’t want that. Take my hand. We have to go.” Cam held out one hand to me and put his other to his head, cringing in pain. “I feel them getting close. We are running out of time.”
I glanced back at Kerri and then slowly began to lay her head on the ground as I slipped out from under her. I took Cam’s hand and rose to my feet. “Yeah, okay. You’re right man.” I stifled back the rest of my tears and tried to shift the focus of my mind.
I knew a war had been brewing between the Sans Couer and the Chasseurs Sans Âmes but I didn’t realize that it had finally hit it’s all time high until today. I knew we weren’t ready to fight the Sans Couer at the level they were exhibiting, so I wasn’t quite sure what we were going to do. The Âmes had a lot to prepare for and without Kerri, our strongest sorcière and love of my life, we were all as good as dead.
Even beginning to flee now, I had that feeling in my gut that we would all eventually be laying in a pool of our own blood, and on the cold hard ground, by the end of this war. This would eventually be all for naught.
The fact that there wasn’t a single word coming out of my mouth that was penetrating through anyones sad little brains was enough to make my own want to explode. I couldn’t take the blatant disrespect any longer. It felt as if i were in a room full of children, that at this point, I would even consider eradicating.
“Shut the fuck up, all of you!” I don’t know when the last time was that I yelled quite so fiercely but damn did it feel good.
All of my little peons finally took notice and did as I asked. You would think that in a room full of adults it wouldnt have required such time and demeaner on my part to accomplish that. I swear. Everyone’s just a fucking moron these days. Not even the state police department is exempt from them apparently.
“I’m too damn old to deal with all of this shit and every single one of you are too old to be acting like shit. There are lives on the line right now so all of you better get your fucking selves together. The only thing that matters are those little girls, leave the rest somewhere else.” I paused to allow my frustrations sink into their heads. They needed to realize that our emotions towards the situation was not going to bring anyone back. In fact, they would do nothing but stifle the investigation. If my men couldn’t put their obvious disgust aside, those girls would never make it home… alive.
“Are you all done now?” I saw a few heads shake within the crowded room and officers began to calmly sit at the tables. “Good. Now let’s get started going over all of the information we have at hand. We now have a 15 hour window left before our odds detrimentally begin to lower. A few profilers from the FBI have come in to help handle the case.” I waved for their team to emerge to the front of the room as I stepped back to give them space to take control.
I knew the FBI would step in sooner or later. This had been the fourth known abduction within the last two weeks and it seemed like our abductor’s time frame was getting smaller and smaller for keeping the girls he was taking alive. The first girl was taken on a Wednesday and was found dead on Friday. The next taken Sunday, found Tuesday, and then the other taken on Thursday and found early Saturday morning. This time, 2 girls have went missing, presumably both by our guy, on Sunday night. Our suspect seems to be escalating at a rapid pace and with it being Monday morning already, the entire department fears there isn’t much time left. He seems to be acting within a 48 hour period mostly but something has changed that has caused him to up his game. We cant take anything for granted or waste any time. Our 48 hour ticking clock has just been made a 24 hour one. Two missing girls but half of the time to find them.
We officially had our profile and it seemed liked everyone finally had their heads on straight and were actually ready to do their jobs. I knew this meant a lot to every one of them. Its not easy dealing with murder. Even worse when its multiple murders because we have already previously failed to catch our suspect. We couldnt let this go on any longer. We would find these girls alive and we would take this son of a bitch down. At least thats what I kept telling myself. It was either that, or I would succumb to the fears held deep within my soul. Fears that we would find two more bodies to add to our list. Fears of this sadistic human being, if you could even call him a human, continuing on his rampage. Fear that it would be all of my fault.
I guess thats what it all came down to after all. It wasn’t just more lives on the line. It was ultimately my job as well. That shouldn’t matter but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t at least thought about it once. Twice even. I guess that kind of makes me a bit of scumbag. I shouldn’t have any alterior motivives regarding this case. It should be about catching a killer and not keeping a job. I mean, it is about that, but man does this shit make me look bad. It’s hard not to let selfish thoughts creep within your mind occasionally. When you’re surrounded by mayhem and death on a daily basis you kind of have to advert your mind to other problems when possible.
Right now though, it really shouldn’t be possible. I had to get my mind back in the game with everyone else’s until we caught this bastard. 24 hours is a small window and there is no leeway of time to advert my mind now. We had to start looking. Following leads. If we didn’t make progress, those girls would not survive.
“Captain Schroder, sir. ” detective Ratchet called for my attention, breaking me out of my detrimental thoughts.
“Detective Ratchet, what is it?”
“We’ve already received feedback on the BOLO placed regarding our profile, sir.” Ratchet paused momentarily and drew in a long breath. Exhaling heavily he continued to speak “We finally have a lead.”
My heart felt like it skipped a beat and I began to hear it thumping from inside of my chest. I couldnt believe it. A lead. Finally. All it took was for the damn FBI to show up and take over. I loved those guys right now but at the end of the day, man I hated those fuckers. All they did was make the local police departments seem inadequate at their jobs. If we had half the money they had access to then we could be just as good. Our resources are limited leaving us crawling for help when crimes can’t be solved.
I’ll praise them now, for this means hope for those girls, but afterwards they will go back on my least favorite people list.
“Son of a bitch. Those ass clowns actually accomplished something with that bullshit profiling. Well hallelujah. Let’s get moving then.”
Every spare officer suited up with their bullet proof vests and headed toward the coordinates of the possible location of our suspect. All sirens off, we approached an abandoned old barn 10 miles outside of the abduction sites. The land looked as if it hasn’t been touched in years with the grass growing uncontrollably, masking half of the barn beneath it’s brush. Could this really be it?
The men and women of the FBI began to file out of their SUVs simultaneously, signaling for the rest of us to follow their lead. We all creeped around the perimeter of the barn and began clearing the area.
I could hear my heart beating once again and nearly felt it in my throat as I rounded my first corner. Being captain, it’s not often I’m in the field anymore, but this right here, this needed all available badges present. So here I was, and it’s not like I was nervous, or scared of the situation or anything though. I think I was just excited for finally being able to catch this guy but I know I was also terrified of finding the girls, but finding them too late. My mixed emotions were causing my heart to act erratically and at the worse times.
I shook my head slightly and signaled for the men behind me to continue on as I doubled back towards the entrance of the barn. I watched the FBI agents skulk through the open doors and begin clearing the inside. I followed in behind noticing that It seemed so quiet and untouched within. I was beginning to believe that we had been sent on a wild goose chase.
Mere seconds after that thought had crossed my mind, I heard yelling, screaming, and then bullets being fired from the loft of the barn. This was it. He was here.
“The girls aren’t up here!” An agent yelled down. “Search the grounds!”
That was my cue. As I continued to hear bullets being popped off, I began to search below, for anything. I called out to the other officers to search every where they could think of. The girls had to be some where on this property. I only hoped that within the midst of all those bullets flying that they managed to keep that bastard alive. If this search didn’t prove fruitful we would unfortunately need him.
I scoured every inch inside of that barn but came up empty handed. Not even a trace. How could that be? Silence began to fill the barn and I knew then that the fight was over and that those girls would never be found.
I walked out towards the vehicles with my head hung low. Even within the 24 hour period, we still lost. The guy was taken down and yet we still lost. I just couldnt wrap my head around it. I didn’t even care about my job at this point like I so selfishly let my mind wander to earlier. I didn’t even want this fucking job any longer. There was no justice here. Even as I watched our suspect’s dead body being carried out of the barn, it still wasn’t finished. Our ticking clock meant nothing this time around and there would be no relief or sastifaction because even in death, he still won.
I had a diary once. The only problem was, I never used it. There was no one, or no thing, to contain my thoughts. My fears, my wants, my needs, my hopes, and my dreams, were all sealed within my own soul, my heart, and my head. Eventually, because I could not take advantage of the diary I had in front of me, everything that was kept within began to become too much. The tomb that I had created within myself was actually starting to burst at the seams. A slightest crack in the foundation that I had manifested had begun to creep into further areas and rupture the membrane that supported the tombs structure. Slowly, and then all at once, every thing that was once kept inside was now in the open. It was now sitting in front of the world for them to see and begin to critically judge. The reasons for my actions and for who i was had finally come to light but yet no one could see past the initial fabricated facade. The damage had been done and I was only left with a single decision. Did I allow everything to remain sprawled out before me or did I pick up the pieces and cram them back into a half ass fixed tomb that was bound to break again some day?
I had a diary once. It was neglected and left with empty pages. It begged to be filled and I ignored it. I ignored the outlet that was bestowed before me; because of that I have broken the only part that used to be whole within. To allow the contents to remain in front of me, my hope is to finally compile them within the given pages. To put them forth where they may be seen, instead of stored in the darkness. I reached for my saving grace to no longer find it there. My broken tomb has broken my outlet and thrown my chances away. My negligence has cost me all of the options I once had. Broken inside and alone on the out.
I had a diary once. Now its nowhere to be found.
Part II is finally here! Brick has come to terms with the previous tragic events that stole his life and now his mind is set on figuring out the final form of his revenge. What will be next for Brick and how will he decide to make his enemies pay?
-1 week later-
Sitting upon the balcony of his hotel room, Brick was finishing his coffee and spacing out into the burning flame of a candle that was sitting on the table beside of him. Plans of revenge for Genie’s death, repeatedly bounced throughout his mind. He began to plan a number of different scenarios of which he could choose from when the time arose; which would be soon. Under normal circumstances Brick would have had an arsenal at his disposal if he had ever needed it, but now, he was on his own no matter what. Luckily, he had enough rage inside of him to push him through anything that arose. He would succeed on his own.
Brick already knew his target, which is what led him to his current whereabouts in South America. It was obvious once he put the pieces together. He didn’t deal with many people who were capable of getting their hands on the type of explosives it took to demolish his house, and life. Brick knew how easy it was for Escobar to procure the means to accomplish the task he had, which was his own form of revenge.
Juan Escobar was a self proclaimed drug lord living in the shadows of the Norte del Valle Cartel after all of the original members dissipated. He was also the alleged son of Wilber Varela, a leader of said cartel, whom Brick was sent to dispose of many years back. Without a doubt, Brick knew that Juan, or men of which he employed, were behind his tragedy. Juan wanted revenge and had apparently been lying years in the wait for it. The only thing Brick didn’t understand is how Juan came about the knowledge that he was the one who had pulled the trigger. Varela was a sanctioned “mark” through the CIA and Brick was very good at his job, therefore, there really could only be one explanation. It wasn’t like the CIA would just allow information like that to slip out into the open; so not only did Brick have to worry about Juan and his self proclaimed Colombian drug lord title, he had to worry about the people he worked for. People that were close to him. There was an obvious leak within the CIA which meant it was best for Brick to finish this job as quickly as possible.
A knock at the door stole Brick away from his detrimental thoughts and caused him to sigh in annoyance. He definitely wasn’t expecting anyone, to the world, Brick Regarde was supposed to be a pile of ash and Jose Santiago was the gentlemen residing in this hotel room. So who in the hell is Mr. Santiago receiving a visit from? Brick crept towards the door and grabbed his PT-1911 off of the table as he walked by. He took the safety off and cocked the hammer back as a precaution as he leaned in to listen through the door. Another knock came, followed by a voice.
“¿Hola? Servicio de habitaciones!”
Brick sighed in relief but was still hesitant to open the door. Too many years of training had taught him better than that. Without knowing for sure rather or not this was truly room service, he had to do something.
“No gracias. Por favor, vuelva más tarde.” A quick reassurance that room service was not needed should be enough for them to walk away. If they remained, well, there would be more trouble then he was hoping for.
Seconds later footsteps could be heard walking away back down the hall. Room service after all he thought; he lowered his gun and began to tuck it into he back of his pants as he started to walk away. Just as a sigh of relief had managed to escape his lips, something had crashed out on the balcony where Brick was once sitting. Quickly looking in that direction, and reaching for his gun once more, Brick was ready for whatever had just arrived.
Brick was ready but he wasn’t expecting what he saw. The table that was sitting on the balcony was now knocked over and the candle that had once been upon it, had fallen off. There was a fire now beginning to burn before his eyes as the candle’s flame caught the bottom of the cotton curtains that hung upon the patio doors. He chalked it up to a gust of wind but he felt in his gut that something was wrong.
Running to find something to snuff the fire out, Brick caught a glare out of the corner of his eye and followed his gut instinct to duck and roll behind the nearest piece of furniture. Within seconds of moving out of the way, a gunshot rang throughout the room and sliced through the air of where he was once standing. Someone knew that Brick was alive and had come to make sure the previous botched job was taken care of.
With his PT-1911 still in hand, he peered around the couch he was behind and let a shot loose towards the man that was hiding on the balcony. Brick could see his arm peeking out from behind the building flames of the curtains and continued to aim for whatever he could hit. The assailant moved back and then quickly reappeared to fire back causing Brick to veer back into hiding. They continued to fire upon each other until Brick heard a grunt of pain and a clattering on the ground.
Cautiously coming out from his shielding, Brick could see a bodily mass laying in the patio door way. At least six foot seven inches, three hundred pounds and a body covered in tattoos, he could tell this was definitely one of Juan’s hit-men. He walked closer, gun still aimed toward the body, in attempts to see if he were still breathing. He was. Brick rolled the body over to see his face and was greeted with wide eyes. Immediately Brick stood up, put his foot to his throat and aimed his gun towards his face.
“Did Juan send you?” Brick needed some official answers and this may have been his only chance to get them.
The hit-man just quirked his mouth to the side and smiled allowing blood to drip out upon his face. Brick forcefully shoved his boot harder on his throat causing him to gurgle and choke on his own blood. “Quiero respuestas. ¿Quién te envió, y que es su informante?”
Silence fell upon the room as Brick’s questions were still going unanswered. “Ahora!” He yelled, desperately seeking his answers.
Another smile gleamed across the bloody mess that was laying before him, but this time, words followed as well. “Juan will watch you burn. Rialdo will see to that. He..” A cough escaped his mouth followed by another gurgle of blood “He will have revenge. We… never stop. Morirás.”
His eyes fluttered shut, his head fell to the side, and blood pooled from his mouth. He was gone. His last words would not go unnoticed but to Brick, he knew them to be lies. As he shoved the bodily mass a few inches over into the still burning flames on the curtains, he knew who would really be the ones to burn.
Brick grabbed his things and made his way to the door. He leaned up against the entryway and stared back among the flames. He watched as the body ignited in a blaze of light and the smoke began to carry the stench of burnt flesh. He sighed in relief at the slight feeling of accomplishing part of his task for revenge. A fallen enemy lay before him burning in the same kind of flames that had stolen Genie. Some how, that made everything better. He now knew exactly how Juan would pay with his life and it made him actually smile. He also knew he would even extend that courtesy to Rialdo. That backstabbing bastard would pay with the rest. It wasn’t Brick that was going to burn. It wasn’t him that was going to die. It was him though, that would relinquish that unto all of those who had a hand in destroying his life. It was him alone that would watch them all burn.
“Get up! Get up! Get up!”
It felt like a high magnitude earthquake was occurring just from beneath my bed. Shake after shake, bounce after bounce; the extra pillows that were laying upon my bed were being tossed to the floor; I was lucky enough to not have fallen right behind them. I groaned, rolled over, and glanced at the clock. Barely even 8 o’clock in the morning and I had just fallen asleep around 5. I wanted to bury my head into a dark hole and sleep in pure silence for another few hours or so. The shaking paused for a moment and I thought that maybe I would have my chance to do just that. That is, until I heard a high pitched squeal coming from right above my head. A shrill, evil battle cry, was coming forth from this demon spawn’s lips and piercing my ears with sheer determination behind it. Before I could even react, at least 60 lbs of mass crashed down on top of my sprawled out body.
“Ugh! Damn it Cally!
“I’m going to tell mom on you. That’s a bad word and you know mom hates it when you use bad words.”
I tried to squeeze out from underneath my sister, slowly, without throwing her to the floor in the process (Though I would have much preferred to just throw her on the floor). It didn’t work. She felt like dead weight laying upon my back and there was no escaping.
“I don’t care Cally, just get off of me. Its too early for this. I’m tired.”
“Maybe if you would go to bed at a decent time, you wouldn’t have to sleep till noon everyday.” Cally started bouncing on my back, making my bed, and us, move along with it.
“Cal-ly!!! Sto-p it!” The pressure of her body on my back combined with the bouncing, was making it hard to speak properly, or even breath for that matter.
The bouncing stopped but the giggling had begun. What in the world did this 8 yr old have for breakfast? An energy drink? I haven’t seen her behave in this manner since she was a preschooler. It was nerve-wracking. I thought these days were long gone.
“Seriously kid, why don’t you get off my back and explain why you are in here to begin with. I promise to get up if you get up.”
“You promise Lilly?” She leaned down so that I could see her pouting lips and puppy dog eyes staring right at me. I mean really? Who could turn that face down?
“I pinkie promise Cal, just please. I cant breathe.”
“Yay!” Cally rolled off of my back and scampered across my room and sat into my desk chair. She began rolling it across the floor without a care in the world. I just shook my head slightly and sat up in bed. I quietly watched Cally as she continued to enjoy the most simplistic of activities. To see her smile grow that big, over something that small, brought my own smile upon face. I didn’t even care about the mere 3 hours sleep I had gotten any longer.
“Alright. I’m up and I ‘m listening. What’s with the fireworks this morning?”
Cally abruptly stopped rolling and began to stare at me with her mouth agape. “That’s just it Lil. Fireworks.”
“Yes, fireworks. Which is what I am calling your crazy entrance this morning. A wild array of fireworks.”
“No Lilly. Real fireworks. It happens tonight. Moms taking me to see them after the cookout tonight. I have never been so excited.”
I stared at her for a moment not really understanding why that made her so happy. Happier than I have probably ever seen her. Its not like its the first time she would be able to see fireworks. Just last year mom took us to the harbor to watch them over the water. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know why you are so excited though. You’ve seen fireworks before.”
“But now, I know what they mean. Just yesterday, Mrs. Sands taught us all about the 4th of July. None of my other teachers had bothered to tell us what all of the parties and fireworks meant. They always just said to enjoy our break. Maybe they thought we were still too young to understand. Either way, I know now Lil and I cant wait to see them with that meaning in mind.” Another smile sprawled across her face and she began to bounce in the chair, continuously showing her excitement.
I couldn’t believe that this was my little sister, who only minutes ago was re-enacting pro wrestling moves, telling me she wanted to experience Independence Day for the meaning in which it conveys. There are grown adults who don’t even give a damn about that. I was flabbergasted.
“Wow, I’m impressed. Its nice to see you so excited over this.”
“Its super exciting Lil.” She hopped up out of my chair and began skipping her way out of my room. Time for a little more shut eye I thought, as I began to lay back down.
“Oh!” Cally paused in my doorway and swung back around to face me. “I almost forgot to tell you… Mom said she wants you to be up and dressed by 9. She wants help getting things ready for the cookout.” She flashed a smile and continued her trek out of my room. So much for sleep. I guess I needed to get a shower instead.
It was going on 2 pm and the house and backyard were beginning to fill up with our family and friends. We’ve been running around all morning cleaning and cooking for this gathering and the last thing I wanted to do now was to actually “gather”. My late night, accompanied by my early morning wake up call, was beginning to take a serious toll on my body and current mental state. A few hours of mingling left to go before I could hit my bed once more, I had to push through.
I plopped down on the bench swing and gazed at everyone around. It was always a nice sight to see everyone come together and enjoy themselves. Well, almost everyone. Dad was still barricading himself in his office because of a huge case he had coming up in a couple of days, but really, there was nothing new about that. It’ll be days before I see him again.
I caught a glimpse of Cally on the play set with a few of her friends from school and some of our little cousins. She was smiling, and laughing, and I could hear her telling everyone about the fireworks she would see tonight. It was a shame that Dad wouldn’t be going with them later but I knew that her and Mom would have a great time. I didn’t even want to think about fireworks though. If I couldn’t see them from my bed, I didn’t want to see them at all.
I scanned the yard once more over and found mom conversing with Aunt Lisa. I must have stared too long apparently though because the next thing I knew, mom was waving me over. It was time to mingle I suppose.
The evening began to roll in with the clock reading almost 7. The house was almost fully clear with everyone going to their respective places to watch fireworks. I couldn’t have been happier. All day I was bombarded with questions of what college I had chosen to attend come fall. Which of course that question led into full fledged conversations about college life in general. The day could not have ended soon enough.
As the last guest exited the house, I went up to my room and plopped on the bed. I was finally ready to doze off when I heard Cally yelling, crying, and then running into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Lilly?” My mom peaked her head around the corner of my doorway.
“Yeah?” I looked up from my pillow and could tell that my mom was slightly flustered.
“I have to go into work. I have a patient in labor and I need to be there. Your sister is very upset with me. Maybe you could take some time and try to calm her? Your dad is still in his office if you need anything.” and then she was gone.
So that’s what all of that noise was for. Mom had to go to work which meant that Cally couldn’t go see the fireworks. As excited as she was today, she was probably devastated now. I dragged myself out of bed and made my way down the hall to my sisters bedroom. I pushed her door open and found her with her face buried into her pillow, curled up on her bed, sobbing. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pain reverberate within my chest. I found myself sitting next to her, rubbing her back calmly as I used to when she couldn’t sleep at night.
“Cally… I’m sorry mom had to leave.” I continued to rub her hoping that it would eventually coax her to sit up. It seemed to calm her slightly but it took longer than I would have thought to help the crying stop. A couple of minutes had passed before she finally decided to raise her head. I caught a glimpse of the final tears that she had let fall, roll down her cheeks. “Its alright Cal.”
“Its not alright.” She started to sob again lightly but caught herself before the tears pooled once more. “I really wanted this Lilly. I told all of my friends… I was looking forward to this… I…” She broke off with the tears starting to stream once more. I grabbed a tissue from her bedside table and lightly wiped them away from her face. She sniffled and then looked up into my eyes. “Can you take me Lilly?”
My heart broke a little then. I wanted to be there for her so badly. “Cally, its like 5 miles to the site and you know I don’t have a license yet. I’m still taking classes. We would never make it there in time if we walked either.” She threw her face back into the pillow and abruptly started wailing. I had to do something. I stared at the wall for a moment bouncing ideas through my head. I knew bothering dad was out of the question. Even though mom said if I needed anything he was there, I knew he would never open his office door. Everyone else I knew was already attending their nights festivities, leaving me with only one possible option. “Ill be right back Cal.”
A few minutes later and I was ready to cheer up my little sister, I hoped. “Alright, dry your tears and come on. We have some fireworks to go see.”
The sad face that I had seen moments before quickly changed from despair to jubilation. “Really?!”
I chuckled, “Yes really, come on girl.” She ran towards me and embraced me in the tightest hug I had probably ever received. “Thank you.” She mumbled into my stomach.
“You’re welcome” I grabbed her hand and led her out front as we waited.
“Why are we just standing here Lil?” She looked up at me bewildered.
“You’ll see.” A minute later a yellow taxi appeared in front of our house.
“A Taxi!” Cally squealed in amusement. “I’ve never been in a taxi before. This is awesome.”
Another smile became plastered on my face. To see just how excited the little things made her could make anyone’s day brighter.
We pulled up to the elementary school, where they were setting off the fireworks this year, with time left to find a seat upon the hill. I gave the driver the only twenty I had and then we began our little hike. Exhaustion nearly took over as I reached the top but I held it together as I helped Cally up the last few steps. We settled ourselves on the grassy knoll and looked upon the sky for the show to begin. My little sister barely spoke two words while we waited for things to begin. She just gazed upward with a beautiful gleam of excitement in her eyes. I could barely keep mine open and I bet she never even dared to blink.
The noises came unexpectedly and made us both jump in fright. Once the sky began to light up in beautiful colors though, our bodies began to relax and our eyes became fixated. Cally’s eyes never strayed and her mouth never closed. She started pointing up at the sky and yelling out her favorites as it was clear that her emotions were becoming uncontrollable. I never strayed my eyes either. They were locked on to Cally’s love and excitement. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
The show ended and there was happiness all around. Exhaustion as well. We began to walk home since that was our only option. I used the only cash that I had to get us here knowing this would end up being the outcome. I could see Cally begin to drag her feet a bit and start to fall behind. She was sated with happiness. “Come here Cal, I’ll carry you.”
Miles walked, with frequent sitting breaks in between, and we were finally back to our front door. Mom still wasn’t back home yet and I’m sure dad had never even left the office. I sat Cally down, practically asleep on her feet, so that I could open up the door. I promptly picked her back up and carried her to her room. After tucking her in bed, and was ready to go pass out in my own, I took a minute to watch over my little sister as she snuggled beneath her blankets.
“Lil?” A barely audible whisper escaped my sleepy sisters mouth.
“Yes Cal, I’m still here.”
“Do you think the British Empire missed having the Colonies a part of them?”
“That has got to be the weirdest thing I have ever heard.”
“I know. I was just thinking about how the colonies declared their independence, the reason for today’s celebration. It just made me wonder about people wanting independence in general. I think I am going to really miss you.”
My heart thumped in my chest and then melted within a matter of seconds. “You’re worried about me leaving for school?”
Cally sat up in bed and stared at me through the darkness. “I am. Its you’re own form of independence, right? You’re leaving us. Making your own separate life.”
I shook my head and walked over to the edge of this amazing little girl’s bed. I bent down and looked into her eyes. “You heard the conversations earlier with everyone at the cookout today, didn’t you?”
She bowed her head slightly. “I did.”
“I will be leaving Cal. Not forever though. Its a different kind of Independence. I may not always be physically around but I will always be here to talk to you when you need it. I will also be home for breaks and holidays, even the whole summer. I will only be a few hours away. I’m not declaring a separate life. That would never happen. I will be independent in a way but my heart will always be yours.” I brushed her hair out of her eyes and kissed her on her forehead as I stood back up. “Lay back down and get some sleep Cally.”
She slowly slid down in her bed and began to flutter her eyes shut. “Thank you for the fireworks Lilly. It was the best night ever.”
“You’re welcome.” I lightly closed her door behind me and made my way to my own bed. This was probably the longest day I have ever had to partake in. I wouldn’t change it for anything though. As I finally allowed my body to succumbed to the exhaustion it had been fighting all day, I replayed everything through my mind once more. I knew that I would never forget just exactly how my sister was today. I would remember her smiles, her laughs, her tears, and her sorrows; it will pull me through each and every day of my life. Independence Day has a new meaning for me now and all it took was my little sister’s love to make that happen.
When Brick returns home from his latest trip away, he is greeted with far more than he bargained for. Instead of happiness to be back home, he is left with a deep seeded need for revenge…
Driving home from his most recent assignment, all Brick could think about was seeing his girlfriend’s face. They had been apart longer than he would have liked this time, and then on top of his extended traveling time, his flight home had been delayed. He had been hoping to originally catch Genie before she had left for her shift at the hospital, but he knew, after calling her from the airport, that she was already on her way out. Instead, Brick was hoping to at least have something special waiting for her when she returned.
As Brick turned on to the long driveway towards his home, he felt a rumbling beneath his car. His Audi began to vibrate and he could feel trembling through the steering wheel and into his palms. He would have chalked it up to a minor earthquake if he hadn’t also heard an explosion and began to see flames spring before his eyes. He realized then, that his house would be no longer.
Brick drove down the drive as far as he could and then proceeded to climb out of his car to watch the remains of his house crumble. He silently began to thank his lucky stars that Genie was already at work. At least knowing that, he could breathe calmly.
And then he heard it…
At first it was faint and he figured it to be nothing. Then he saw it. A shadow within the bedroom window. Then a body slamming into the glass. Pounding to break free and screaming through the smoke induced coughs, Genie was starting to succumb to the disaster she had been caught in. The house was toppling down around her and the flames were breaching the barrier she attempted to create inside her room. Genie knew it was over and calmly stopped fighting. She glanced out the window and banged on it one last time, while cursing it for always being broke. She saw Brick outside of the window and gave the smallest of smiles, and then while staring at his face, She embraced herself as the flames came closer and her screams filled the air once more.
Brick watched her burn in that fire. He stood there, his mouth agape with her screams flowing through his ears and piercing his heart. There wasn’t anything left that he could do. Even if there was, his body was too much in shock to even move a muscle. His eyes couldn’t even be averted from her flame covered body as skin began to melt from her bones. He was scarred, every part of him. He knew he should have been the one in that fire and even though he wasn’t, It was almost as if he was; for most of his soul had just evaporated with hers, as her body turned to dust.
Falling to the ground upon his knees, Brick just stared upon the flames whilst the smoke began to limit his breathing and ability to see. He barely even noticed the sudden restrictions until sirens began to fill the void of silence in-between the crackling noises of the fire. With both Genie and his house gone, there was only one option left for Brick. He had to flee. The sirens were getting closer and he couldn’t afford to be found alive. Someone had wanted Brick dead and he was going to give them that. At least the illusion.
Once his enemies had fallen for that illusion, he had every intention on shattering it. By any means necessary, Brick would have revenge. He had a burning heat building within him now; one he cared not to control. That heat inside had taken his soul and he vowed to have that heat take theirs.
Two more pills and another day complete. A whirlwind of medications just to stay standing on my own two feet.
A force fed mixture with only one single purpose and goal,
Is my deadly cocktail that’s meant to commit encroachment upon my very soul.
Who am I, I don’t even quite know. Maybe just a shell of a human now with nothing left inside to bestow.
Unrecognizable from the inside or the out, there’s no questions left, qualms or any doubts.
The path of bottled help will keep you sane and subdued, but in the end it’s only the real you, you elude.
Alright ladies and gents, I want to try something new. If you have noticed, I try to find a picture to go with most of my postings. Now, what I would like, is for you to participate in what it is I write about. I would like you to find a picture (Please keep it appropriate) and send it to me. To go with the picture you send I would like it if you could request either a poem, short story, or even a small excerpt to be written to match the picture.
I feel like I have been losing some inspiration lately and what better way to get back into things then to listen to those around you. Please participate. I will be very grateful for the help and interest and will also respond to everything that is sent. Thank you so much guys! I look forward to seeing what pictures come my way.
Email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
or fill out the below form and add a link to the picture you find
Her eyes were usually a smokey bluish gray but now with tears forming I could see them change to a glassy ice blue in an unusual way.
They gleamed in the light and shined with pain and as they stared at mine I could see through them into her eternal thundering rain.
Her moans were getting louder and my ears were catching it all; every single sound pierced my heart like an urgent siren’s call.
I wanted to help her but I had done all I knew that I could, if only that small bit of sentiment was enough to comfort her as I wish that it would.
So I lay her head on my chest and held her body tight, knowing the only thing I could do was to stay with her through her fight.
Hopefully my presence alone would be enough to dry her tears, so those icy blue eyes could turn back to their normally colored, grayish spheres.
After Mikey overhears his buddy, Brett, reciting nursery rhymes he antagonizes him for being the softest All Star Quarterback ever. Little did he know, Brett had a secret, and was simply trying to keep a promise which lead to questions only the universe knew the answer to.
“Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight”
Was that Brett that I heard reciting nursery rhymes? It couldn’t be. I must be hearing things. I finished my trek down to the basement with my six pack in hand. Maybe I already had a few too many because now, at the bottom of the stairs, I swear I could still hear Brett.I
“I wish I may, I wish I might…”
Oh, it definitely was, and I just couldn’t help myself. “Get some ass, by the end of the night” I shouted in the midst of my laughter as I made my way to Brett who was staring out of the sliding glass door.
Brett turned and glared at me. Apparently that was not how the rhyme went.
“Way to be mature, asshole.”
“Really Brett? You’re the one singing to stars. Where is the maturity there?” I pulled out a beer and handed it off before I plopped myself on the couch in front of the TV.
“You’re always so quick to judge Mikey. Its your ultimate flaw man.”
“Aww, did I hurt your feelings? Now you have to start talking about my flaws to make yourself feel better? Dude, you’re a 22 year old, all star quarterback, who is currently being looked at for the upcoming draft.”
“So? Was there a point in that last statement?”
“The point is, you shouldn’t be singing to the fucking stars at night man.”
“Mikey, I swear, you are so damn single minded. Do you even care as to maybe WHY I was doing that.” Brett huffed and slumped onto the couch at the opposite end.
I shrugged “Because deep down your rapport for childish things turns you on? Or maybe you’re just secretly gay?”
“Because even if I were gay, that would provoke me to sing to stars? You’re full of shit Mike. How about my rapport towards my little sister?”
Brett raised an eyebrow in my direction and then turned to focus on the game. I really felt like I screwed the pooch on this one. I screw up often but it just felt different this time. I felt an ache in my chest and a severe case of guilt began to settle on my conscience. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
He glanced back at me swiftly but I could still tell I had upset him. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy with droplets forming in the corners. “I don’t… Not anymore.”
Now I really felt like a piece of shit. I shook my head and almost teared up myself. “I’m really sorry… I…”
Brett reached out and gave me a playful punch in the arm. “Its alright. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have been so defensive.”
We both turned our attention to the game and it became eerily quiet for the next 10 minutes until i heard Brett release a saddened sigh. “It was during the summer before I left for college when it happened.”
I could tell this was going to be the story of his sister. He didn’t have to tell me, especially after how I had acted, but I appreciated the sentiment. I could also tell this was going to need another beer. I pulled two out, handed one to Brett, and encouraged him to continue.
He nodded his head solemnly and started once again. “My sister, Tracey, had just turned 6 a month prior to finding out she had leukemia. It was extremely hard for the family to handle. The only one to stay strong was Tracey herself. It was amazing on how much life was still generating throughout her body. Nothing could ever break her spirit. Some days we even forgot she was sick. What I loved most about her though was the extreme amount of thoughtfulness that she continuously displayed for the world.”
Brett stopped for a moment, wiped his stray tears away and then took a swig of beer before finding his footing in his story.
“For a 6 year old, I always thought that was something special. My sister loved wishing on the stars but Instead of wishing for toys for herself, she always wished for others. Most times, instead of toys, she would wish for others to just be warm and happy.”
“That is something pretty special, man. ” I tried to hide my own tears that began to form but at this point it probably didn’t matter. My heart was already being lifted higher than it had ever been.
“What’s even more special is that when she became sick, that never changed.”
Brett took another drink and tried to force a smile through his saddened composure. This story was taking a toll on us both.
“When she was finally made to stay in the hospital for her last days, she still insisted on taking time for the stars. Even when she became too weak to go to them herself, She insisted I carry her and lay her upon the window. Every night I did, and every night, she never spoke once of herself. Never once did she wish she was better or that she could live longer. She wished for the world’s happiness, her family’s happiness, all before she ever uttered words about herself.”
How a little kid could possess such a strong aversion to self preservation is beyond my understanding. How any person could never stop, just once, to think of themselves is unbelievable.
“We knew when her last night had come. We could all tell how quickly she had deteriorated and there was nothing left to be done. Barely breathing and barely holding her eyes open, she asked me once again to take her to the window.”
Brett’s words were becoming shaky and hard to understand through the tears but I just leaned forward and listened harder.
“After she made her wishes for the night, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said ‘Who will wish for them when I’m gone Brett? Who will make sure everyone is okay?’. I couldn’t hide the shock that sprung across my face after she spoke those words. Her last moments and that’s what she chooses to say? I never loved that girl as much as I did in that moment. I would never want to let that little girl down, so I told her I would. I promised her I would continue to make her wishes whenever I saw the stars. The same exact way she did.”
With that, my asshole status just went through the roof. I was such a prick before, I couldn’t even stand it. I stared at Brett and then just watched him crumble. I couldn’t help but scoot closer and offer any support that I could. The second I was closer he latched on to my arm and cried on my shoulder.
“I’ll never understand why Mikey. Why that little girl, so young, was taken from this world. This world is slowly dying without people that hold the kind of compassion that she did and yet… she’s gone. The world decided to expel one of the rarest and truest souls that ever existed. No matter how much time passes, I will never get over it.”
I continued to offer my support and allowed Brett to cry as much as he needed. I patted his back and tried to keep my own tears at bay.
“I don’t understand either. It’s not fair at all. Even more so that it was your sister. I’m so sorry man.”
We both sat there and pondered life’s shitty decisions until we kind of went back into the rhythm of the game on TV.
It was best that way. Fading out a conversation that intense and full of emotion was not an easy feat. I’m not even sure that conversation will ever fade out inside of my head though.
When it came down to it, I really couldn’t understand it. It was an enigma that apparently only the universe was meant to know. It better had a damn good reason too. No one, especially someone that precious, deserves to be snuffed out before their lives had even began. She could have changed the world.
I know she changed mine
It feels like months and yet it’s only been a week. I haven’t felt like writing a single thing nor have I even felt like messing with any social networking on behalf of my writing either. Does my lack of motivation make me any less of an author? Does it show signs that maybe a writers life is not one that’s meant for me? Am I meant to be doing something else just because I’m not chomping at the bit with every spare moment I have to scribe words into existence?
I don’t know the true answer to those questions but the answers that I feel within me say yes to all of them. I feel as if I am a mere shadow in the writing world when all else is corporeal. I’m no one and nothing in the scheme of things because I can’t produce what I feel is being looked for. When every day turns to night it yells to me even more. It makes me realize where I don’t belong because I’m constantly fading away. It seems so simple…
When a shadow is in the darkness it becomes non existent while all else shall remain.
I’m a shadow.
A heart as dark as onyx was thought to be abandoned to the pits of hell and lost forever. There were rumors however, that it could be found. Even if it were though, it would be so undesirable that it could never be repaired. It would never again pump the flowing red blood that it was made for. It would never pulsate within ones chest. It was blackened for eternity and it would never feel again. It was a rumor started of uncertainty. A myth to scare those from the chances of darkening their hearts to each other. The fear of never again to be allowed to feel had made them distant from one another instead of the closeness that they had once desired. No one dared to cross another in hopes to keep their hearts pure. Those who thought they were pure though would never understand that the purest of hearts were the ones that had once been a victim of the darkness. No one knew that the onyx hearts could be saved for the myth spoke their truth. A blackened heart turned pure red once again though, was the sign of purity. It was the real sign of hope and love. Coming back from the pits of hell took strength and courage. It took the love that they all sought. Instead of ever knowing this, the majority remained aloof in their world of distance. Instead of risking the dark to have happiness and love, they lived in the shadows of uncertainty and mediocrity. There were very few that risked for love and only they had discovered the truth in living.
Where were you when my tears were falling and my heart was breaking.
Where were you when everything within me could only feel aching.
Where were you as I thought your name within my head.
Where were you as I lay alone within my bed.
Where were you when the times really mattered.
Where were you when everything was shattered.
Where were you when I inhaled my last breathe of air.
Where were you, that’s right, you’re never there.
That was the straw that broke the back
My back to be exact.
For the hundredth time, at least it seemed, I let forth my worries, my loves, and my dreams.
You, my knight in shining armour, laughed and ripped them at the seams.
Now a paraplegic with emotions of the heart, and the pain of being immobilized that has torn the rest of me apart.
I’ve been put on bed rest for an undisclosed amount of time, the back you’ve finally broken now no longer feels like mine.
My knight, my love, the one I called my own, the pain you’ve caused is searing and has left us now with moans.
My moans, my pain, my back that is broke all because of the one straw you continued to envoke.
He continued to speak but all I heard were gasps of air.
His words were no longer audible for I knew he didn’t really care.
His lies were strong and easy to believe
But it was I who would be the one to decieve
He thought I was fooled, a helpless dumb chick
Through it all though, I knew every little trick
It is what it is though and I just let it all go by
I wanted you to know though, that I do see through his lies.
I wish my words flowed when I wanted them too. It’s been days really, since I’ve had anything worth putting in print. I still don’t have anything and it’s frightening. I’ve been reading during the times that my mind has been empty in hopes of triggering that spark of inspiration that I need to continue my own work.
I have multiple stories that I have started but not a single idea on how to get them to progress in a manner that’s suitable for me. It’s been a rough time for my words and I, but I hope all of you continue to stick around to see what eventually comes forth.
In the meantime, I would love for you guys to check out The “Wanted” Needs. It’s a creative writing blog that I contribute my writing to and it also includes similar style writings by other extremely talented authors.
I wish I had something to say. I hate having days to where I have nothing. No story, no poetry. No words. For in my world, no words mean no feelings. No feelings mean no life. No life means… Well, I think you know what that means. It’s always a sad day when the words fail to come together to create. For it’s not just a sad day, it’s an empty day. Which in my book, isn’t really much of a day at all.
Water falling, petals falling, all on a mild spring day
Wind blowing, air flowing, all through the windows upon I lay
The beauty outside has become my beauty within
For looking through to nature is where inner peace should begin
It’s been a busy few days and I haven’t written much but I feel I should post a little something. So here is a small excerpt from something I’ve been working on…
“Should I continue to ignore my own heart for the sake of others? Should I constantly fight for what is right for other people while all the while im the one dying inside? When does it get to the point that I do something for me?”
“I dont believe you were put here on this earth to live for yourself. I believe that you were specifically put here to be sacrificial. That sucks, but every now and again, the world needs a savior from the dark underbelly. If not, the world would surely go to hell.”
“What if I just let it?”
“Let what? The world go to hell?”
“Yes. If the world can not save themselves why should I?”
“Unless you have forgotten darling, you are apart of this world too. If they all go to hell… So do you. Then we can all be fucking miserable for all eternity, together. Im ready babe, go for it. Condemn everyone to hell because you’re too damn selfish. See how well you do with that guilt verses the pain you think you feel now.”
I just stared at him. I couldn’t make myself do anything else. He was right on multiple accounts. I was being selfish and if I allowed myself to continue doing so, I wouldnt be able to survive the aftermath of guilt that would be swimming around in my head. Even the thoughts of only helping because I personally wouldn’t survive the guilt is just another form of my selfishness. I just couldn’t get away from it. I was a lost cause to this universe. I couldn’t even begin to fathom on why, someone who didn’t want to see past their own self, was supposed to fight for everyone else.
You were the light in my darkness that helped me find my way. You were my beacon of love that I followed everyday. You were the glimmer of hope within my despair. You were the stitch in my wounds so they’d no longer tear. The strength to my weakness and the beat of my heart. My muse and my passion that inspired my art.
You were my everything. You were my soul. So without you now, two is the toll. Death is imenent when the light has been snuffed out. Leaving the darkness to fester and mingle about.
My strings have been let lose instead of straight and taught. I’m hunched over with my face to the ground. Without the one who pulls my strings my body is destined to stay a pile of broken and useless pieces. I am incapable of maneuvering on my own but the one that controlled so much of me has given up. I’m alone and now must find a way to straighten my strings once again or find the strength to cut them completely. I am useless without a master and yet I still will hold the hope to survive.
‘He was right. I was broken. There was no denying that fact any longer. I couldn’t even hide it if I tried. The only problem was… I wasn’t just broken any longer. I was shattered.
There wasn’t a glue in the world that would be strong enough to keep the pieces bound together. And even if there was, pieces were already missing. ‘
My mind slowly breaks as the noise within becomes louder. The walls become weaker as they are penetrated from the inside out. An explosion is expected momentarily from the pressure building up. Louder and louder and then a small faint cracking sound finds it way through. Slowly the loudness seeps out around me becoming an echo in the wind. A continuous stream of echoes make their way forth as the once small crack becomes a huge hole and the noise that was once apart of my mind is now apart of the world.
What happens when they leave. When your heart is hurt and your smile is broke. What happens when you are alone and lost with no one who understands. What happens when there is nothing left? When existence itself is no longer in sight. What happens to the pain that never leaves? It festers and then it eats away at everything that is you, from the inside out. It destroys. Any piece that may have remained intact will now be disintegrated into ashes. All of it, eventually, will be nothing. You will be nothing. Absolute blackness will eventually engulf everything there is to you when you allow it. It thrives where it is least wanted. This is what happens when you lose a part of yourself, you lose it all. No amount of trying will bring them back so going with them is your only option. Slowly, painfully.Desperately.
My day was spent at an art museum and then a baseball game. I didn’t get any writing done today but it was still enjoyable nonetheless. There’s always tomorrow :).
My heart aches to think of you. It cries forth with pain. As the tears stream down my face my hearts blood does the same.
Drip by drip the pool expands. higher and higher with haste. it overflows as it grows over the max, blood haphazardly displaced
Drowning. Drowning. No will to tread the seas. Sinking to the unknown depths with sheer determination and ease.
Lost. Forgotten. Pain bubbling and searing. Blood congealing, no healing causing any humanity left to start disappearing.
Now being encased in coagulated remnants of my heart just proves my innards were always meant to fall apart.
Aching. Crying. Falling. It’s all over now. Options that a lost humanity chooses to disallow…
*I always liked this one but I never did really give it a proper finish.*
And as the night was nearly over and the world had turned its head, it was finally time to lay in my already made bed. It was made with pain and heartbreak and a side of fear, for it held my every single dropped tear. It held my dreams of the future, my present, and my past, every single little thing from the first to the last. Now as I lay here, it holds my last breathe tonight, for there is no longer anything that’s worth the effort to fight. My eyes will slowly close and dreams will ensue and finally every single one will finally come true.
I would love nothing more than to be able to say that the tears that stained my shirt were justified, but they weren’t. Not even close. There was no fathomable reason for a single drop to be shed. And yet they just kept falling. The sadness I felt had no roots to even plant and yet some how it still managed to flourish. It overtook my ability to resonate with any current situation and instead found the power to drown me in its growing and disturbed beauty. One tear created a million and though there was no initial cause, in the end there will be a reason for all that had fallen. In the end, everything will be clear once again.
I had to swallow my pride to speak the truth. There was only one revelation and it would be the end of my self preservation. Realization that i alone would never be enough to make my world remain afloat as it sat in the depths of the darkest pits in the furthest galaxy. I needed your strength to become the gravity that keeps me grounded. I needed your smile to become the brightest stars on my darkest nights. Your arms to provide warmth when my seasons need a change. Your tears of joy and sadness to become my rain when my own is merely not enough to sustain life. I even need your anger, pain, and determination to feul the storms that my world so desperately needs to continue its natural cycle. Recognition that my world is nothing without you is the only way I could survive. Your love alone is what Is needed to keep revolving and pride is just a minor causality compared to the lose there would be otherwise.
Broken pieces are scattered inside
All casualties of my heart which has died
I once thought it was possible to repair
Now I know its a futile affair
Without the proper glue that you once held
My heart will never hold the weld
Forever broken inside my chest
Pieces and pain to some how digest
Too much for one person to fight
Yet here I am and to your delight
Tears are falling and pain is searing
The future is bleak and disappearing
I look forward and see the dark
The direction I shall soon embark
Leaving behind pieces of my broken heart
For you to gaze upon as your own work of art
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
By far one of my more favorable quotes that once came from Hemingway’s brilliant mind. It’s a daunting truth really. Writing is simple. It’s pure passion. It comes from within. What makes that a hard pill to swallow is when people shy away from what you write. When they think your blood staind on the paper isn’t enough. When, to them, there is too much blood to see a message, not enough blood to seep through or just having a non compatable type. To bleed with no acknowladgement is how a writer dies. Once it flows there is no stopping and soon there will be nothing left but a hollow shell unless there is someone willing to donate their own blood to the cause. I believe that most writers are victims in need of transfusions. Passion for passion. Those who crave to read and those who bleed to write. One does not simply exist without the other which in turn makes writing far more than nothing. It makes it challenging and frightening. It seems like no work at all to slice a vein and let it bleed, and in reality, it’s not, but when no one knows how to make it stop, or give you more… Death will be emanant. Writing is tretourous and it’s a hard thing to handle.
There is no love in my heart. It’s as cold as ice and as hard as stone. There is no light left upon my soul. It is as dark as the night and as empty as the shell of the body that surrounds it. There is no life but a memorial. A spec of rememberance that still hides itself within. A shriveled piece of hope that refuses to be snuffed out by the icy darkness. It holds vigil daily and never gives up. It clings viciously to the outskirts of the horrid internal black hole. A lone memorial, fighting. So even though there would seem to be nothing, there is still everything.
A writer and his dreams are nothing to take lightly
It no longer mattered. There was no one there waiting for her to feel better. They had all left when she needed them most. She was too much for anyone to handle and now she could no longer even handle herself. It was only a matter of time before it had come to that really. It had already been some time since the tears were able to be contained within her body, for her soul had managed to form a hole that could not be patched. The inevitability of this situation was beyond predictable from the beginning. Now a reality, at least she could say that something finally went according to plan. Now the pain was finally snuffed out.