Category Archives: Stories

Isabelle

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    Awoken by a noise Isabelle quickly grabbed her dressing gown.  The autumn night air had a crisp chill.  The wood so cold under her naked feet she felt the urgency to sprint.  Isabelle came closer to where she heard the muffled noises.  She entered the stairway and stood face to face with a stranger.
     His hair was the color of spun gold, it fell limp and straight against his pale face.  His cheeks were slightly sunken in, as were his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in a few days.  It seemed her visitor hadn’t seen the sun in many seasons.
     Thomas stopped dead in his tracks as he stared into the eyes of his would be victim.  He felt the breath inside still, as his muscles froze as if encased in ice.   His gaze could not be moved, he could not even will it so.  Still the thought raced in his mind, fueling his desire to escape.
     Isabelle’s shock was soon turned to factorization.  This poor man needed shelter and sleep.  Her new thoughts were cut abruptly off before they could take root.
     Thomas could barely muster the breath to speak.  He knew to stay here would mean death, to explain himself.
     “I am held captive by your stare.  Look away.”  His voice was so calm and void of emotion. Yet his words spoke to her like a siren song, ‘You are stunningly beautiful.’  The verse his tone rung out, ‘I would know as I have seen many beauties.’
     She had never before thought of herself as anything but ordinary.  Plain, they always called her.  Now here stood a stranger in her house claiming otherwise.  Isabelle was drawn in.
     Thomas saw the pleasure crossing her face.  He knew with her new found power she could have him arrested.  In jail in less than two hours time.  He was sorry for ever coming here, sorry for glancing upon her face.  He could walk away, if he could find it in himself to walk away.
     “I am held prisoner by your glance. Avert your eyes.”  He asserted in a firmer tone as he took a step closer to her.  It was as far as he could muster his body to move.
     Isabelle felt her cheeks flush red and hot as he approached her.
     He glanced down upon her, upon her blushing cheeks.  Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps she wanted him.  He so undesirable, detestable, hated.  Yet there it stood evident, love in the world.  His face took an almost puzzled glance, as if thinking how to best proceed.
     Isabelle’s cheeks deepened red, she felt almost as if they were a-flame.  Quickly she averted her eyes to his chest.  The realization of what was about to transpire took over her mind.  She would never again gaze into this strangers light green eyes.  She felt a sudden sadness at the thought of his permanent absence from her life.
     The wheels in Thomas mind began to spin quickly, as he watched her cheeks return to their normal pallor.  He stepped full well out of her line of sight.  He had the power to control her emotions, a very odd sensation to him.  A sensation he intended to take full advantage of.
     “I may return to visit the blush upon your cheek.” he offered watching to see if he had hit his mark.
     Indeed he had.  Isabelle’s cheeks flushed an instant gratuitous shade of ruby.  Finer than any jewel he had yet to heist.  Without a moments hesitation more, he rushed down the corridor and off the estate.
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The Hauntch Shop

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The Intro

 

     Hi, my name is Julia, and I run a Hauntch Store. Before we go any further, yes little giggling children call my store all the time asking if I’ve seen their bare haunches on display in my windows. But this is not a Haunch store, this is a Hauntch Store. I know what you’re thinking, so what is a hauntch? And that’s exactly what I was asking myself just two months ago.
     “Miss Julia Deardhorn?”, an aging rounded man held out his hand towards me. “I am Albert Finkenstankle, your great aunt Gileda Deardhorn’s solicitor. That is to say, I’ve called you here for the reading of the will.” His white bristly sideburns were almost standing on ends as he leaned backwards and motioned towards the door. “Of course,” he continued as I walked towards the doorway. “There is only you and Tabitha.”
     As I reached the doorway and glanced in, there was a small room lined with bookcases. The bookcases were filled with stacks of paperwork and old law volumes. In the center was a dark, heavy, wooden desk. The desk cluttered from every angle with paperwork, and small objects meant as paper weights. To either side of the desk sat worn comfortable red leather chairs. I noticed to the right, glancing up at me with great curiosity, a slender orange tabby cat. She resumed her curled up position as Mr. Finkenstankle pushed past me.
     “Please do sit down.” he motioned to the empty chair as he shuffled through papers. “And so it was.”, he pulled out a stack of papers and begin to read through them. “On the passing of Gileda Wastborn Deardhorn, the whole of her estate and store front property on the dock is to be shared equally between her long time companion and friend Tabitha Wilkinson.” He paused motioning to the cat. “And her surviving niece, the last of the blood line, Julia Grace Deardhorn.” he did not look up but continued to go on.
     While legal terms flew above my head and out of my mind, I glanced at the cat. She rose her head up a bit glancing at me, and winked.
     As she laid her head back down I was pondering how many times I had ever seen a cat wink. My thoughts were interrupted by Finkenstankle clearing his throat.
     “And do you have any questions, before I take you out to see said properties?” he watched me.
     “You said I had a store on the docks?”
     “Yes, quite. The Hauntch Store.”
     “What exactly is a hauntch?” I interrupted.
     “I, umm, err…” Mr. Finkenstankle began fumbling for words. Upon clearing his throat he continued, “Well you are aware of how eccentric your great aunt was?”
     I replied flatly, “I was not aware, of any such thing.”
     Finkenstankle fumbled for words again, then figured out what to do. “Perhaps it’s best, if I just show you.”
     We pulled up to the first row of many one story wooden shacks. They started off with one row facing a pier, then each row sat behind it. The front of one building was the back of another, unless you had waterfront property. Finkenstankle assured me that the most desired property was the waterfront one.
     The structure sat on a foundation of creaking old wood, that literally faced out openly to the water. There was no guard railing at all, however in diffrent places there were spots to tie up a boat. There was unfortuntaly, no place to tie up a boat near my store. Mine was Sixteen Seventy Three, which looked like Sixteen Seventy Four, and exactly like Sixteen Seventy Five. It looked just like all the Sixteen Seventies that I saw, actually. Old, weather-worn, wooden planks made up the exterior walls. A single, rusty, metal roof connected all the buildings together. Each store had it’s own small window, the size of an adult face. There was a solid wooden door for each front entrance.
     “There’s no signs on these doors.” I remarked.
     Mr. Finkenstankle wasn’t feeling chatty anymore.
     As I glanced over at him, I noticed he was shaking slightly. A small look of fear was present in his eyes as he stared into the vacant window. Then he quickly pulled the keys out his pocket and thrust them into my hands. “I have an urgent matter I must attend to, urgently.” He excused himself suddenly and began to almost trot away.
     “How odd.” I muttered, as I watched the back of him now sprinting out of sight. I grabbed the golden brass door knob, and paused. This doorknob looked brand new, there wasn’t even a smudge on it besides mine. The first two keys didn’t work, but the third one let me in.
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Lottery 1

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    William Barrett had never been a lucky man. In all his 42 years he’d never met Lady Luck, though it never stopped him from looking.
    Card games, slot machines, online poker, even horses… William Barrett was always looking for Lady Luck in all the wrong places.
    It would suffice to say William Barrett was down on his luck, though he never let on how far down.
    His wife of thirteen years has taken their two children back to “Mothers” two weeks ago. She’d had enough of his get rich quick dreams. She was done going hungry over Love. She deserved better.
    The notice on the rent read, 30 days extended period denied, eviction if not paid in full by tomorrow. His wife had argued the lights on for the last time six weeks ago. The water had been off for two months.
    Sure, William Barrett tried to work. He’d been a waiter, a short order cook, a mover, and too many salesmen jobs to name. He just wasn’t successful at maintaining a job.
    The Tri-State Lottery was the highest it’d ever been, it was William’s last chance.
    The balls came up and the beautiful dark skinned woman pulled them out one by one. William stood mouth open as each number came up his. It was surreal.
    The next morning the eviction crew was at his door. They entered and began taking what few furnishings were left in the house. William woke up on the couch still holding his ticket.
    Without argument he left the house, to the local café. Jenny would put it on his Tab, his long running tab. The news blared over the breakfast crowd. The coffee was stale, and William noticed the lottery numbers come up on the screen.
    William reached in his pocket and pulled out the ticket, the numbers matched. The news anchor announced there was but one winning ticket sold. William met Lady Luck, but his joy never came. Gears clicked in his mind, who he owed, back tabs, bar tabs, food tabs… loan sharks.
    He looked at his salvation, his curse.
    He walked out of the café, ticket in hand. He walked down the street, under the freeway. There he saw a slender woman with medium length brown hair. He glanced at her, she was in her thirties. He walked up to her and handed her the ticket. He held up his right hand to her, motioning for her to stay back. He took a few steps backwards. Then slowly with his left hand he pulled out a revolver and stuck it to his temple. In one loud bang his luck had run out….
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Dark Rock

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     Maybe it was the coffee, or the joint, could have been the insomnia.  I got two hours of sleep last night.  The only trouble is when I close my eyes and dream, it’s not dream scapes I wander through.  It’s just one nightmarish hell after another.  It’s a good night that I don’t remember anything I dreamt.
     I long for the dreams of others, to have my teeth fall out or show up in public naked.  If I loose teeth in a dream it’s normally because someone has hit me and they are knocked loose somehow, one time they were shot out.  I’ve been naked several times, though no one has ever taken notice.  I wont even begin to explain that one.
     Nothing I dreamt before prepared me for this.
     I was sipping coffee, after having an after dinner toke.  I was playing some game or the other on a social networking site.  Just some random addiction to fill an otherwise boring uneventful evening. A painting I had bought at a starving artist exhibit hung on my wall.  A hill stood in the foreground, lush and green with sparse sprinklings of white wild flowers.  In the foreground was a grassy pasture.  A large willow stood to the left, twenty five percent of it was somewhere off the canvas.  On the right was a medium sized dark rock, framed perfectly on two sides with tall grass.
     I thought I saw a shadow of a rabbit run from behind the rock to behind the tree.  I wasn’t doing anything important.  I got up to look closer at the painting.  I reached over to touch the canvas.
     As my fingers touched the rough texture of the painting I felt a shock go through me.  For an instant the world was dark, then I stood alone on a pasture.
     The wind whipped against me furiously, I noticed my garments were from a different time frame.  And it was a good thing too, the fabric was so thick the wind did little to harm me.  It would have otherwise cut through me like a knife.  A full moon lit the landscape, but there was hardly any stars in the sky.  My hand still feeling a rough texture was on the back of a tree. I glanced up and turned around quickly to notice I was in my painting.
     I turned in the direction the shadow had run to and began to walk.
     After hours of walking, I could now hear the wind carrying more than autumn screams.   A violin or maybe a fiddle, was there a difference?  There was life out there.  I walked faster toward the music.  Slowly smells of burning wood filled the air, the music was louder as if beckoning me closer.  At last I saw a lone cabin.  Smoke poured from the chimney, and the lights blazed inside invitingly.  Music could be heard playing merrily yet, there was no barn, no garage, no cars, not even a mule.
     I walked closer and glanced in the windows of an obviously abandoned house.  A fire blazed in the fireplace, but there stood beside it no fireplace log holder or wood to feed the flame.  Music filled the atmosphere, but the house was empty of any kind of furniture.  There was light emitting from the ceiling, but looking at it scorched the eyes.  As soon as the black dot was gone from the center of my eye, I reached for the door handle.
     I clicked the latch handle and began to walk across the threshold.  I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a dark shadow figure peer out of the window at me.  As I stepped inside I glanced over but there was nothing.  An inspection of the entire cabin showed it to be completely empty.  It was clean, there was no dust or cobwebs.  The house smelled of pine as you walked room from room.
     I glanced out of the windows into the forest.  What was I going to do when I got hungry?  Wake up?  If I’m asleep then when does the nightmare part start.  I walked to the fire watching the flames dance to and fro playfully.  It was all so warm and comforting.
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Teenage Ghost

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     During the year nineteen seventy nine at boy scout camp, two eight year old boys discovered they were from the same town.  Jeffery and Evan were bunk mates at the beginning of camp.  Two weeks later by the end of camp they were blood bothers.
     When the boys returned home they found out they only lived five blocks from each other.  They became inseparable.
     All through middle school the pair could always be seen planning some sort of adventure for the coming weekend.  Every weekend they would explore some place new.  One time it was the abandoned house at the end of the lane, at night.  Another time it was the forest on the outskirts of town.
     Their favorite adventures however took place in Evan’s tree house.  Evan’s Grandpa built it for them during the summer of eighty two.  It had a wooden rope ladder to climb up, the door was a panel on the floor you had to push up to gain entry.  Hand painted on the door in huge black letters “No Girls Allowed”.    Once up in the tree house they would pull the ladder inside and  place an old suitcase full of books over the panel.
     They would travel to planets unknown facing fear and lack of oxygen to fight aliens never before seen, saving the human race before mission control recalled them for nourishment.  Pirate the seven seas and plunder til the moon rose high into the sky and only the crickets remained singing their victory songs.
     When the summer of nineteen eighty six started Jeff noticed his friend Evan becoming more distant.  Spending more time with Celice, Janice, and sometimes Rachel, three girls from school.  Jeff pleaded with Evan to spend more time with him.
     Evan had simply found something that interested him more than aliens, rockets, and pirates.  He also was having a hard time understanding why Jeff was not interested in growing up.
     By the end of the summer of their fifteenth year Jeff and Evan had parted ways.  Evan began to chase girls and pursue their interests as if they were his own.  Jeff turned to books, having his imagination as his only friend.
     The first year of high school defined the two of them in different ways.  Jeff excelled in school, spending almost all his free time volunteering in the library.  He soon made friends with the Audio/Video Club and joined.  Evan found out girls like a bad boy, he began to hang out with smokers at the handball court in the back of the school.  It wasn’t long til he was accepted into the group of local stoners.
     And so this was how it went, for two years.  Jeff didn’t speak to Evan, Evan didn’t acknowledge Jeff’s existence.
     It was Valentines nineteen eighty eight.  Jeff and the Audio/Video Club had a dance planned.  “Techno Heart Beats”.  It was sold out.  The homecoming committee did the balloons, streamers, glitter, and ticket sales.  The A/V Club did the lighting, music, and various other special effects.  Most of the machines were donated by Greg’s dad, owner of “You Party Rentals”.  He had a puppy crush on Ms. Flatmore, head chaperone to the dance.
     It was also a memorable time of year because a troubled teen by the name of Vi Iamdoe transferring in from out of state somewhere.  Her clothes and her attitude left nothing to the imagination.  Her glare was like a razor, her touch was said to be like snow in late January.  Her dark eyes were an endless soulless pit of despair.  When she spoke her tone always hinted the tone, “Abandon all hope, Ye who enter here.”.  You could feel the darkness radiating off her.  Her flame of attraction rose like funeral pyre in an autumn gust.
     The party started with much success.  Revelers enjoyed themselves within their various cliches.   Evan and his stoner friends congregated towards the back watching the scene.
     Then in walked Vi.
     It was like a vampire had walked into the room as a vacuum simultaneously sucked the air out.  Everyone’s eyes turned.  Time seemed to slow, and the music seemed to fade into silence.  Jeff felt a ghost run over his grave, a cold chill ran up his back forcing the hairs on his neck to stand on end.
     Vi said nothing, she stood just past the entrance.  Her posture enforced the sharpness of her outfit.  Evan had one look at her and the sirens call had been too strong.
     All that night Evan and Vi could bee seen together, entwined as if lovers of ages past now reacquainted.
     Jeff watched the next two months as Evan and Vi became closer.  Vi with her penchant for hallucinogens and speed, soon had Evan following in close pursuit.  Jeff heard rumors.  Evan and Vi were running a scam in bars.  She would distract, he would pickpocket.  Then more rumors about heroin.  By the time October rolled around Jeff had had enough.
     On Halloween, the most sacred of sacred times the two had shared growing up he decided to confront his blood brother.  Between third and fourth he caught Evan going up the middle stairwell.
     Students pushed past the two acquaintances who seemed to be having a heated discussion as the tardy bell rang.  A few lingering students heard their shouting in the hall as they made their way into their classrooms.  No one knew what the argument was about.  No one really knew why a Nerd would be hassling a Stoner, or cared.
     Jeff pleaded with Evan to stop seeing Vi, he pleaded with his blood brother.  Out of his love, he cried tears of pain.  He pleaded and begged, he shouted and cursed.  Anything to make his closest friend in the world turn back to good.  He feared for Evan’s life on the path he now choose to tread.
     Evan tired of his friends nagging turned to walk up the remaining few stairs.
     Jeff in a last ditch effort reached for his friends jacket.
     Evan tired of the nagging, the judgment, the berating, belittling, holier than thou rantings… grabbed Jeff’s hand and forced it off his jacket.
     Jeff lost his footing in the scuffle and began to fall backwards.
     Evan tried to reach out and grab Jeff, but he was too slow.
     The memorial was on a Sunday.  The A/V Club put together a tribute.  Evan stood alone.
     He’d lost his taste for Vi.
 
     Decades passed at Deerborne High.  No one remembered Jeff from the Audio/Video club.  People passed his picture every day year after year and never glanced at it.  The story and his face hidden in the trophy case with a small caption.  Some people got a small chill when they passed through the middle stairwell.  Most would just avoid it all together, though no one could ever say why.
 
 
     There had been a rumor long ago, but it had long since been forgotten.
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Believers

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     “It’s ten AM.” Kyle looked up at the light grey haze.  He pulled his fishing rod out of the lake’s bank and began reeling in his empty line.
     Nick sat staring at the ripples without sound or movement.
     “I’m sorry about your sister.” Kyle added as he walked off towards his farm.
     Nick watched without thought as the ripples slowly turned back into a smooth unmoving surface.  “The life has gone from it”, Nick thought as he raised his eyes towards the far end of the lake.
     The night replayed again in his mind.
     He sat in the hallway.  Staring at the dark stained cedar paneling.  He sat on the floor, his right leg outstretched. He examined the top of his worn out school sneakers.  “School is finally over.” he thought.
     Three days earlier he walked from the playground at Bayfield Elementary.  Waving to Tom, Barry, and Kyle.  His three best friends in all the world.  He had two months of camp outs, look outs, fishing trips, and other stuff.  He recalled the groups plans for the week, “Martin’s dad was building a tree house…”
     “She did WHAT?!?!?” a scream and interrupted all activity in the house.
     Nick jumped up and ran to the living room to see his dad talking to police.  His mother pushed past him quickly.  “She ran off with Jules.” Nick thought, “That’s why she hasn’t been home for days.”
     “Carl what is it.” Sheila pushed past him to confront the police.  “No!” she gasped and took two steps back from the door.  Quickly she turned to Nick, “Go up to your room and play with something.”  “Now!” she added as if punishment would soon follow.
     Nick raced up the stairs, pounding them as hard as he could in protest.  Just as he slumped into his desk chair crossing his arms to pout, his mother’s wail filled the air.
     He raced as fast as he could back to the top of the stairs.  He watched as his mother sobbed violently on her knees.  One hand tightly grabbing one the officers shirt, the knuckles white from the force.  She had pulled the shirt free from it’s uniform tucked in status.  Now only the officer’s white undershirt remained tucked in neatly into his pants.  With her other white knuckled hand she clutched a photograph to her chest.  Nick could only see the white backing, but he knew it was his sister.  He became puzzled, “Why is she acting like this, she only ran away.”
     Carl looked up at the top of the stairs and saw Nick watching.  “Go to your room and close the door.” his voice was slightly annoyed.
     Nick retreated beyond the bannister.  He entered his room and stood behind the door.  He held it open a crack, and listened.  He heard nothing but mumbling for hours til at last his body gave out.  The adrenaline had left him, he was moved to sleep.

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Vampires

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     “I love Hollywood, don’t you? They make it easy to be a vampire. Everything is easier in the movies, but that’s not what I mean. They make vampire glitter. People used to fear vampires. I remember a time when an entire village would give up a toddler to save the rest of the children. It is easier now people actually offer themselves as food. They think we care or feel things, thanks to Hollywood. I feel two things, hunger and fatigue. Those are my two emotions. I am hungry I must eat. I am tired I must sleep. ” Jules explained to the girl with black hair.
     It was a quiet night the moon was full and bright, illuminating all around. They sat on Fullshire Hill, over looking Hamches. The black haired girl writing down every word he said with a pencil into her notebook. Every once in a while she would push her over grown bangs out of her way with her left hand. She wore fingerless black lace gloves which matched her tattered black cotton and lace dress. Her skin as pale as if death had already overtaken her. The black makeup on her face meant to shadow instead of project. She leaned slightly against Jules in a show of affection. Jules, a thin pale man with long brown hair. His skin was also the shade of a corpse, his eyes a strange shade of grey. He wore a Victorian brown suit with white lace.
     Staring into the distance at nothing, Jules continued. “It’s true we travel in clans for the most part, safety in numbers. People often mistake this for emotion. The truth is you’re just naturally drawn to the person who turned you, and want to protect them. Hollywood has made most vampires teenagers, and while there are some of course. In the clan I travel in there are none, but I guess Hollywood would say we are the bad guys anyway. The truth is, my clan is no different than any other clan.”
     “Hungry?” a voice from behind the couple questioned. Slowly ten other vampires emerged, seemingly out of nowhere.
     The young girl clung to her companion for protection. He seized the opportunity for first blood and sunk his teeth into her. Her eyes widened in fear, every muscle in her body flexed trying to get away. Her first and last scream filled the air. Her eyes glazed over and she fell limp.
     The rest of the clan rushed to the meal quickly. Like a pack of animals over a fresh kill, they fed quickly leaving only a bloodstained carcass to be picked over by scavengers.
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Forever

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     She looked at the photograph from her wedding.  A small tear began to form in the corner of her eye and a lump began to swell in her throat.  She remembered that day like it was yesterday, though it had only been two years before.  She thought he loved her and it would be forever.  She thought she was going to finally be happy.  All the fairy stories she’d read, all the dreams she’d mustered up in her head growing up.  She thought he was different than all the other men she had encountered before.  She thought he loved her.    She set the picture back down on the end table.  The tears poured forth out of her like a storm that would never pass.  The pain so sharp like a steel beam forever embedded into the center of her.  Creating the wound from which she would never heal.
     Her heart was broken.
     Forever was just a fairy tale.
     She glanced at the picture again.  It was just a blurry mass through the tears.  A square outline of run together watercolors, like a child’s painting left in the rain.
     She cried more thinking how her love was used and thrown into the garbage.  How worthless she was to the one man she adored and loved with all her heart.
     The one man she trusted.  The only man on the whole planet who’s opinion mattered to her.  The only person whom she wanted and desired approval from.  He did not love her.  She thought he did.  He did not accept her.  He rejected her.
     Was this all life is?  One disappointment after another?  Was she to live forever one pain to the next with only lulls of distress in-between?  Was this Life?  Was this all there is?
     She began searching.  Searching for an answer she knew she couldn’t decipher to a question she couldn’t phrase.  Searching for a direction besides the one she was on.  Searching for another emotion to feel, another way to see this, another way to think.  Searching desperately for anything to stop this pain.
     For a second her anguish turned to anger.  She thought he was different, but they are all the same.  They say they love you, they lie.  Love is accepting, patient, and kind.    If he loved her he would be with her. If he loved her he would help her through her problems not run away.  Run away like a child.  Her anger was fueled finally.  Not like a man, who stands up and faces his problems.  Not like a man who stands up and fights.
     Her tears had stopped and rage had began to fill her.  Where a steel beam had resided in her center now a fire of hate burned.  Burning slowly churning within her.  He said til death do we part, maybe it’s time for a funeral.  The fire within her began fuel her thoughts and motivate her to feed it.  Yes FEED it.  Make it grow.  End the pain, replace it with Hate.
     She turned to his things and began to destroy them one by one.
     Like he destroyed her.
     Everything he cared about.  Gone.
     As he did to her.
     She turned and glanced at sea of broken.  Broken like her insides.  Broken like her heart.  She still felt no better, she was not done.  She pulled his clothes out of the closets, out of the hampers.  Off the floor in the bathroom where he left it to lay for days.  She threw it all in the bathtub and lit it ablaze.
     She stood numbly watching the fire burn, but the heat could not warm her.  The pain was beginning to slowly creep back.  There was nothing left of his to destroy.  The walls began to grow black from the smoke.
     Black like her dead heart.
     The heart he broke.
     She sat on the floor and watched the ashes glow in the black tub.  It was all over.  She hugged her legs to her, but she would find no comfort there.  She knew she would never find comfort again.  It was all a lie.  All of it.  There was no fairy tale ending.  There is no reality called Love.  Love does not exist.
     It was actually freeing to accept it.  It makes logical sense.  Love is just a story like Santa Clause.  Something we tell people to make them happy, but it’s not real.  She used to believe it was real, but now she knew the truth.  It was just lies, things people tell each other to get things.  To do things for them.  To manipulate.  There was no such thing as Love.
     If there was no such thing as Love, then was no such thing as Caring.  In order to care about someone you have to love them. If Love is a lie then it’s true that nobody cares.  Care is just a lie.
     If this is all there is to life.  Going from one disappointment to another, one failure to another.  Nothing but pain and desperation.  Nothing but loneliness.  If Love is a lie, there is no reason to live.  There is no warmth, no caring. She didn’t want to live in that world.  Where no one cares for anyone, no one loves anyone.
     She felt so alone.  No one cares.  No one cares she’s in pain.  No one cares that she was in love, that she was capable of love.  In a world where there is no Love.  No one cares.
     No one.
     Especially not the man she married, the one she thought would love her forever.
     Forever ended.
     The steel beam was beginning to form in her center again.  It was just a splinter now but in an hours time she would be back to tears.  Tears that she knew would never stop as long as she breathed.
     She could end her pain now and not have to go through it anymore.  Her friends would tell her to pick up the pieces and move on.  To find someone else, but why would she do this to herself again.  Love isn’t real.  There’s no sense in trying.
     She felt calmer now.  It was easy to open the medicine cabinet and grab the pills.  After all, it was all a lie.  Life was all a lie.  Marriage.  Love.  All a lie.
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Untitled

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     Three drops of water fell from a light green, weather beaten leaf at eye level.  My eyes focused on it slightly, the blur of the surroundings sharp browns against various greens.  The rain, rhythmically falling all about me.  The feeling of being washed clean.  My eyes set back on the tread pathway, carpeted with brown leaves.  I jerked my dark blue canvas backpack so the weight was mainly on my back, and not my left shoulder.  I began walking forward.
     My thoughts couldn’t stray from the path in front of me, not even to my next destination.  I had no idea where I was heading to, or what situations I might find myself in.  I heard a rustling behind me in the woods.  I looked back but saw nothing, no blur of movement.  No sign anything had been disturbed.  Sometimes the mind plays tricks on you, when you’re alone.  I continued forward.  But this time the rustling was followed by a blur out of the corner of my left eye.  I picked up my pace heading down the path.  A thin wire tripped me, as I started to pull myself up I saw him.  Trim build, with good color, brown hair – meticulously cut military style, and the typical black on grey officers uniform.
     “Don’t feel so bad.” the thin man mocked.
     Two soldiers rushed up on either side of me, carrying semi automatic rifles.  Taking an arm each I was escorted to a iron truck.  The transport for prisoners, and refugees.  After being shoved into the back of the truck, the iron doors swung shut.
     “What is it this time?” an aged man sitting on the far right bench asked.  “Revolution?  Dissatisfaction with your home life?  What?”
     “It was nothing.” I replied.  Keeping my mind clear, I glanced out of the iron bars that served as our air conditioner.  “I’m just a traveler, I like to travel.”
     “You mean, you’re running from something.” he pried.
     “It’s nothing.”  I sat on the bench opposite him.
     “Long ride to Cantonuna.  Hate to pass the time in silence.  If we’re going to die together, isn’t better to get to know each other first?” he smacked his gums slightly as he talked.
     “I can’t talk about what happened to me.” I looked him straight in the eye.  “Because if do it will happen again.  What I am running from is: you, me, everyone, the whole idea of this place…”
     “What will happen again?”
     I crossed my arms and sat back against the wall of the truck.
     “I had a wife and kids, before the war.” he began to reminisce.  “My wife, she was beautiful.”, his eyes misted as he spoke.  “Most beautiful woman in the county, and just as sweet and nice.  Everyone wanted my Caroline.  But she only had eyes for me.  I felt like the luckiest man in the world.   And our kids, our kids were the brightest youngest stars in the sky.”  He sighed for a second then continued, “Then the war came.  Took my kids first, forced to enlist in a losing war.  They died quickly, but more mercilessly than my dear beloved wife.  When they came to take the farm, they gunned her down.  Her, my beauty, my one true love.  I had nothin’ left anymore.” he shrugged.  “Let them take the land, I went willingly.  And now here I am, to be executed, because I’m old.  My reward for living to long. For surviving.  What were you before the war?”
     “Nothing, and I am no one now.”
     “You know, you’re going to die.  Wouldn’t it better to let go of that burden before then.  Make your peace.”
     “My peace?” I shook my head and half laughed.  “This is far from over.  I’m not dead yet.”
     “You’re as good as dead sitting in this truck.”
     “You’re never as good as dead.” I replied seriously.
     As the truck stopped to pitch another felon in the back, I caught a glimpse of a general standing on the street corner.  Observing the whole ordeal, he stood at perfect attention.  Black hair and mustache, slightly overweight.  Spit polised and decorated.  I shrunk back further in the bus to avoid his attention.
     My movement caught his attention, he motioned to the officer in charge.  Slowly the door was opened and he stood watching me.  “Trying to escape again, I see.”  He paused looking me over.  “Send her back to the front.” he stepped away.
     “Well you were right.” the old man gummed.
     I emerged from the truck slowly, “I want this man as my personal valet.”  I pointed to the old man.
     “He is over sixty.” the officer interupted.
     The general straightened himself, “You cause a stir, and expect to be rewarded?”
     “Maybe I caused a stir because I wanted to save this man.”
     The general pondered for a minute.
     “You know I could cause a lot of trouble for you, general…” I fished.
     “Maktok.”
     “A few right placed words, and I…” I shrugged.
     “Let her have him.” the general ordered.
     “But sir!” the officer objected.
     He shook his head and motioned for the officer to realease the old man.
     “You will return then?” General Maktok trusted.
     “Of course.” I replied as I grabbed my backpack from one of the soldiers.  “Come on.”, I turned to the old man.
     After three blocks away the old man approched closer, “I’m Talibus Gwedendel.”
     “I’m getting you to a safe haven, where you will be looked after.” I picked the pace up slightly.
     “What?”
     “Keep silent til we get out of town.” I instructed.  “Once we reach the brook we can rest.”
     After about four hours of solid walking, we reached the brook.  The sweet serene setting, the rain clearing up.  I sat down and pulled open the back pack for some bread and cheese.  Sharing it with Talibus, I started in.  “You need to be in a place where you are loved, and not alone.  Where you can be looked after and cared about.  Not under Jaressus rule.”
     “Who are you?”
     “I’m no one.”
     “The general obeyed your command, you have to be someone.”
     “I’m not anyone important, if that’s what you mean.  I’m not part of the Jaressus army, or employed by their rulers.  But I am persued by them.”  I sat back and took a bite of my lunch.  “They employ psionics, you know that?  To read your thoughts and find your local.  You have to guard your thoughts well.  And your emotions”
     “Why do they hunt you, yet respect you?” he took a sip of water from the brook.
     “I don’t know.” I looked at him plainly.  “And neither do you.”  I finished off the last of my bread and stood up.  “And for the rest of this trip, we neither of us are hunted.  Or wanted.  Or even criminally inclined.  The path we take will be perilsome and full of surprises, do not be surprised.  Do not be shocked at anything you are about to see.  Show no emotion on your face, and hide no thoughts in your mind.  We trek forward, and forward we go.  To a destination we do not know yet.”
     “Understood.” he stood up.
     I glanced at the surroundings and started walking west, away from the towns, away from civilization.  I spotted a broken limb about thirty minutes later, and handed to Talibus.
     With his new walking stick, we were already well on our way.  To break the laws that condemn our nation, to stand up and fight in silence.
     The Jaressus rule has been in force five years, a military based dictatorship.  We were invaded, taken over, and their order now stood in the place of our everything.  Our values, our morals, and even our very lives.  They own all the land, distribute it as they see fit, and take it away as easily.  There is no certainty in life here.  One bad crop could be your death, as well as your entire family’s.  A failed mission, a failed anything…  There is no place for failure.  I believe it is a motto.  The Jaressus rank goes as follows… the dictator – head of the army, the land, the people.  The second in command, the Tar – if the dictator dies, this person takes rule, also they have a say in all matters.
     The Tar is whom I have known, a psionic by the name of Naj.  The most powerful psionic on the planet, quickly rising to his power by use of his abilities.  Seating treachery wherever it would lie, and seeding truths with compromise.  A vile man if ever there was one, deceptive to the core.  His outer shell, the body that encased that cold soul, was so becoming.  He was the dream of all Jaressus supporters.  The women cooed, the men awed.  For the cause he would give his strength to the last ounce, his blood for the glory.  His angelic looks, the sparkling clear eyes, all his clever deception.  And he had his eyes on the throne.  And a throne he did call it, for once he gained power it would change.  No longer the dictatorship, but a monarchy in it’s place.  And for his mate, he chose from a long list of biological samples.  Listings from DNA charts, until he at last found me.
     Forever in the background, I never stood out.  I never strived to stand out.  I did not want his attention, nor anyone else’s.  I wished merely to live out my life in confinement.  You see, when the war broke out I was institutionalized.  I was sitting quite comfortably in a padded cell.  Tucked away neatly from polite society.  Because awaiting the coming war, our nation had decided the best way to keep from getting invaded was to put on a good face.  Their beliefs that the right and upstanding principles that held our nation together would impress our attackers.  We would somehow assimilate them into our own society.  So, all of us deemed different were carted off.  Drugged into complacency, compliments of the state.
     The day he arrived, was no great day.  It never stood out in history.  But I knew when I saw him, why he had come.  To scream or cry out would have been pointless, sedation was always readily available.  I followed him, out past the safe secure walls I had called home for almost a year.
     As deceiving as Naj is, I was locked away in a different kind of cell for the next two months.  A room, inside a stately mansion.  Just another worthless Jaressus conquest.  This house, so steeped in history and beauty.  Uncared for, unnoticed, and unloved.  I was to find comfort in that for that short while. The third month Naj constantly sat observing me.  His eyes never straying from any movement made.  My thoughts, then uncontrolled, betraying me at every turn.  It was a hellish motion the day I refused his advances, but this day was marked in history.  For it was the day that turned the tide.  The day Naj went off on campaign.  Thousands were slaughtered, as he extended the Jaressus reign past the neighboring country.  I was to blame.  Since then it has been a battle, I can only save one.  But he can slaughter thousands.  Still, one saved, one is safe.  One more person he can’t touch, one more just out of his reach.  And it is of no real consequence to me.
     I am taken back to face him, to wait months for the opening for my escape.  I struggle to keep from going back.  And had I been on the execution line, the proceedings would be halted, and the entire regimen of officers present would take my place.  I am above the law, but yet, I am subjected to it far worse.  It is all a facade, well placed and well played out, between Naj and myself.  It is public belief that he and are intimate, in a love that could only complicate matters should the other disappear.  In reality, we are at war.
     Naj’s feelings for me are undisputable, there is no doubt in my mind or his.  His desire and passion is complete, his yearning and want is boundless.  His emotions towards me as a whole seemed to hold no boundaries whatsoever.  There never was any doubt in my mind from the second his eyes met mine.  I knew, nothing would ever change it.  But there was something I knew, things that can’t be changed can at least be shut off.  It would be nothing for him to turn off his human emotions, for he already had that.  His slaughter of lives, he had no feeling towards the dead.  He cares not for my feelings in any manner.  He willingly shut off those emotions, long ago.  But these, that he feels for me, he refuses to relinquish.  This is how the war was started.  Why should I bear his burden?  He and I both know he is fully capable of letting me go.  I am well aware he could focus his intentions on another female, he just happened to pick me.  But even though my logic is sound, he stands to war against me.  So here I am, nothing I can say or do will ever change his mind.
     I resided on that estate for a year before the campaign.  After the first two months of solitude, I went through a month of niceties.  He was – polite, considerate, logical, and non threatening.  And had things continued in his favor, I am sure he still would be.  For there had stood a man who had just taken his light and placed it in front of himself.  And he was marveling at what he considered to be the most perfect creation.  Never taking into consideration, that I would actually use my intellect against him.  Never once taking any thoughts as to my feeling on the matter, or my concerns.  He held me prisoner, I was not allowed to walk the grounds.  I was not allowed to leave my room, the door was shut and locked.  A room with no windows, and two guards posted outside the door.
 
 
     And with every escape, he becomes more knowledgeable of me.  It is a pity one time I will be captured, and escape will never present itself again.  But until that time comes, if it comes, I am still free.

Space Ace and His Back Up Band

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     The space station diner/club was packed for the newest sensation, Space Ace and his Back up Band. Space Ace himself being some self appointed rock Guru of the 29th century, hiding code phrases to self enlightenment in his songs. (Some banned in thirteen different countries in various galaxies.) This was my first time to see his awe inspiring show, I sat in the back of the club, seated in the most hidden of booths. I can see evidence his word has spread out beyond my own galaxy, there are about fifteen different species crowded into this room.
     The lights dimmed.  Slowly the stage lights began to glow making the smoke in the room more apparent. The Back Up Band began with their opening chorus.  On cue Space stood, center stage, as the light shone down directly on him. The words flowed from his lips, he must have done this a thousand times.  It was like a rhythmic trance chanted over and over. He stood as if he wasn’t even here, singing words he knew there were no way we could comprehend.  Words known only to him in the secret places that he goes when no dares to glance his way.
     The crowd took on a different hue as they swayed back and forth, their eyes slightly glazed.  Mesmerized  by the melodic rhythm and melody that now filled their ears and chambers. Once in a while, as if in some sort of cosmic awareness one of the aliens would shout out a single word in perfect unison with the songs’ beat and tempo. Reminding me of some far off long forgotten church. The music seemed endless, I too could feel something luring me to sleep  Not restful sleep, but the relaxation of the mind.  The pleasure of letting go, slipping into the cosmic awareness.
     I blinked my eyes as I glanced up at the stage, the room has become blurry.  The only coherent thing is that his words are constant. Soothing and beckoning me onward into this state of nothingness.  A place I can not afford to go to, but desperately long to go.
     From one to another in no particular order or time, one by one the aliens would take their turn echoing the words of their leader. The waitress now too seemed to be part of the act, picking up the lack in her own voice.
     Space opened his eyes and glanced into the room, at his creation. They loved him, to no END they loved him. Worshiped him, adored him.  Would be his slaves if he so desired. With one exception, in the back.
     I watched him closely, him so aware of me sitting here.  If he only knew I was just like them.  Worshiping him, adoring him, willing to do anything for him, and all for the same reason. Just mine is not forced or lured, it’s true.
     He continued with the next verse, then the next song.  But it would seem like an eternity.  Til finally my eyes would gaze into his…and an inevitable Journey would begin.
 
 
(footnote – i wrote this back in the 90s to a song called “looking for satellites” by david bowie off his earthling album.  i just heard the song and saw this going down.  i posted this story on bowie.net when it first started….back when i could afford to be on bowie net.  i edited it this morning because of the run on sentences, bad grammar, and mixing of second and third with first person.. blah blah tekkie talk make it stop…. enjoy)