We meet in secret, in a place we cannot touch. But for us, there is no distance. You take a step forward, arms spread wide inviting an embrace. My own go up and around your shoulders, fingers lacing on the base of your neck.
You fold me into your arms, the gentle pressure of your sweet caress soothing to my soul. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against yours.
Inner music, silent yet strong, plays a lilting melody. Random, chaotic and full of residual pain, it fills us, soothes us, a song no one else can feel meant only for us two.
Our bodies move. We sway to the slow and steady tempo surrounding us. Innocence and beauty long ago forgotten encompass us. We feel, we move, we breathe; all else is forgotten. In this dance there is no tomorrow. There is no yesterday. There is only now, and only us.
I pull you closer and rest my cheek on your shoulder. You kiss my head and hold me tight.
Judged by others and self, we often forget ourselves, lose who we are in the world around us. We are forgotten and lonely, absorbed and ignored.
Not so in our dance. I would want you no other way. Here, words are meaningless--hollow, empty shells that convey only what others want to hear. But here in our dance, there are no misconceptions. Here in our dance, there are dreams and wishes and life. There is pain and guilt and sorrow; happiness, freedom, and truth. Here in our dance, silent and cozy with only the music of our souls, there is peace.
The song slows and ends. I raise my head and we stand there a moment, looking at each other. There is no need for thank you's, no need for bows.
The din around us grows. A cacophony of others focused only on themselves, forgetting... forgetting what it's like to dance to the silent music of two.
Then you nod. I brush your cheek with my thumb, and we draw apart, stepping back into our own worlds where life expects us to do its bidding and the bidding of others.
For now, our dance has ended. But there will be others. I return to my life with a smile, knowing that soon...
Soon we will meet again.
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 9, 2009
The Dead End Mind
The darkness stifles. A wet tongue laps at our face. I want him to stay asleep, but the morning ritual with that sweet little pup has become the highlight of his day.
He is the logical, terrified man. I am the curious, the explorer, the dreamer he keeps dormant. I’ve watched him throw away so much of his life in the last few months. Still, he refuses to let me out.
He crawls from the bed. Sad, lonely thoughts fill his mind. If only he could see the world through my eyes. If only he hadn’t pushed her away, the girl who almost brought me to life again.
I shiver at the cold water he splashes on our face. He hates waking up on days like this. Last night he almost let me escape—almost—but he stopped at beer number eight and managed to maintain his rigid control over me. Instead, he yelled at her again; told her she needed to get out, that he couldn’t stand her living there anymore. I wanted to hold her, tell her everything would be okay, that he is just jealous because she dares to live her dream, that she strives to be all she wants to be, that her happiness is a constant reminder of his own misery.
The face staring back as he wipes away the water looks so much older than it did three years ago. Our eyes have lost their luster. It seems he’s only content when he drowns himself in the drink.
I miss being happy—and I will miss her.
The plain blue polo with the Walgreen’s logo blocks my view, but only for a moment. He slams our hands onto the counter and glares at our reflection. This is a good sign. At least he’s showing a passion of sorts, instead of the apathy he normally dwells in.
We walk past her boys—boys full of life and imagination, playing some game of make-believe in their bedroom. Their mother sleeps on the couch, worn out from her determination to support herself financially while working to make her dreams a reality. She looks happy in her slumber, at peace because of her accomplishments.
I feel a pang of remorse, but I can’t tell if it’s his or mine this time. The sensation is strange and different.
She’ll be gone tomorrow. She’ll be gone and we’ll sink lower than he ever has. It has already started. Everything seems bleak, and I can do nothing for him, because he won’t let me.
He thinks about kissing her cheek in her sleep, but instead walks out the door to his truck and his job, and I hide in the shadows of his mind and nap.
The movement of the vehicle wakes me. We pull up at a school, PSU I think it is, and exit the vehicle. I know he thinks of her, wishes he could change her mind, but even I know it’s too little too late for that, and I’m the dreamer.
Information and application in hand, he makes the drive home. As he turns into the driveway, I reach forward and tickle a tiny place in his mind, and he lets me. For a brief moment I feel free, happy, then it passes as he shuts me out again.
He’s stayed at the same unhappy pace, in the same miserable lifestyle until she got tired of waiting on him and decided to pursue her own dreams. Finally a published author, she found her motivation to return to school. She stepped up and took over as den leader, acting on another vision she had for herself years before. He isn’t the only one who’s been stagnant, but her time has come to move forward—and her new life does not include us.
The part of our life we shared with her is over, but perhaps that loss has ignited a flame in him. Perhaps he will move forward so such a thing doesn’t happen again. I’ll miss that girl and the dreamer she is, but at least she’s given him reason to believe in me.
Perhaps now, he and I can finally make a life together.
Maybe, just maybe, we can find our own happiness.
He is the logical, terrified man. I am the curious, the explorer, the dreamer he keeps dormant. I’ve watched him throw away so much of his life in the last few months. Still, he refuses to let me out.
He crawls from the bed. Sad, lonely thoughts fill his mind. If only he could see the world through my eyes. If only he hadn’t pushed her away, the girl who almost brought me to life again.
I shiver at the cold water he splashes on our face. He hates waking up on days like this. Last night he almost let me escape—almost—but he stopped at beer number eight and managed to maintain his rigid control over me. Instead, he yelled at her again; told her she needed to get out, that he couldn’t stand her living there anymore. I wanted to hold her, tell her everything would be okay, that he is just jealous because she dares to live her dream, that she strives to be all she wants to be, that her happiness is a constant reminder of his own misery.
The face staring back as he wipes away the water looks so much older than it did three years ago. Our eyes have lost their luster. It seems he’s only content when he drowns himself in the drink.
I miss being happy—and I will miss her.
The plain blue polo with the Walgreen’s logo blocks my view, but only for a moment. He slams our hands onto the counter and glares at our reflection. This is a good sign. At least he’s showing a passion of sorts, instead of the apathy he normally dwells in.
We walk past her boys—boys full of life and imagination, playing some game of make-believe in their bedroom. Their mother sleeps on the couch, worn out from her determination to support herself financially while working to make her dreams a reality. She looks happy in her slumber, at peace because of her accomplishments.
I feel a pang of remorse, but I can’t tell if it’s his or mine this time. The sensation is strange and different.
She’ll be gone tomorrow. She’ll be gone and we’ll sink lower than he ever has. It has already started. Everything seems bleak, and I can do nothing for him, because he won’t let me.
He thinks about kissing her cheek in her sleep, but instead walks out the door to his truck and his job, and I hide in the shadows of his mind and nap.
The movement of the vehicle wakes me. We pull up at a school, PSU I think it is, and exit the vehicle. I know he thinks of her, wishes he could change her mind, but even I know it’s too little too late for that, and I’m the dreamer.
Information and application in hand, he makes the drive home. As he turns into the driveway, I reach forward and tickle a tiny place in his mind, and he lets me. For a brief moment I feel free, happy, then it passes as he shuts me out again.
He’s stayed at the same unhappy pace, in the same miserable lifestyle until she got tired of waiting on him and decided to pursue her own dreams. Finally a published author, she found her motivation to return to school. She stepped up and took over as den leader, acting on another vision she had for herself years before. He isn’t the only one who’s been stagnant, but her time has come to move forward—and her new life does not include us.
The part of our life we shared with her is over, but perhaps that loss has ignited a flame in him. Perhaps he will move forward so such a thing doesn’t happen again. I’ll miss that girl and the dreamer she is, but at least she’s given him reason to believe in me.
Perhaps now, he and I can finally make a life together.
Maybe, just maybe, we can find our own happiness.
Sep 25, 2009
Lady Killer
Lenny stood watching Hannah. She was prime for his needs, ripe for the taking. He was lucky she'd come to the store alone tonight. Usually she brought a friend or two.
Saturday he'd almost had his chance, but that friend of hers, that bitch Megan, had showed up and they'd left together. Well, he'd waited almost a full week and now he would have her.
She hung up the phone and browsed the candy aisle. Perfect timing, the clerk at the store had just walked into the back room. Lenny made his way carefully up the aisle behind her and before she could move he had his arm around her and his hand pressed over her mouth to muffle her cries. She struggled against him, kicking and clawing at his arms, but girls like her always did that. She would calm soon enough. He pressed on a nerve cluster in her neck until her struggles ceased.
The echo of shuffling crates sounded from the back room. He needed to get out of there before he had to deal with the clerk. He was well aware of the gun behind the counter.
He lugged the limp body toward the door. The sounds from the back had grown louder. Lenny glanced around the parking lot. His was the only vehicle in sight, but he didn't want to risk any stray teens witnessing the abduction. Seeing no one, he hurried across to his truck, jerked open the door and dumped the body on the seat.
He took a final look around, slid the girl across the vinyl, and climbed behind the wheel.
He parked before the porch, killed the engine, and looked over at the sleeping girl crumpled on the seat. He stroked her hair and smiled. She was perfect.
Exiting the vehicle, he moved around to the passenger side and pulled the door wide. He slid his arms under her and hefted her over his shoulder. So light, so beautiful. He carried her inside. She would be his last attempt. This time he would succeed.
He dumped Hannah across the bed. On either side of the head board were leather straps, which he fastened around her wrists. When he cinched the right one tight, she moaned and her hand twitched. Lenny checked the binding. It was a little constricting. He couldn't have her handicapped. She would need her hand later. A quick motion and he loosened it just the tiniest bit.
He stepped back and admired his handy work. Such a precious little thing. Her blond hair spread around her on the pillow, framing the gentle youthfulness of her face. Her little skirt didn't leave much to the imagination... He shrugged off his excitement. He would explore her later. For now, he needed to formulate a plan.
The wing back chair in the main room was his favorite perch. He lowered himself into it, and stared at the ashes of the fireplace. It didn't matter that there were no flames. To him it would always burn, just as it had when Mother was alive.
Sometimes he really missed that woman. Hannah reminded him so much of her. It was a shame when the old lady finally outlived her usefulness.
He'd tried in vain for years to find a suitable replacement. Most had been strong-willed, outspoken women. Breaking them in had been part of the appeal.
Up until now, they had all become sniveling simpletons and he didn't need someone to take care of, he needed someone to see to his needs. He couldn't just let his failures go, they would have squealed on him without hesitation. So, he'd disposed of them, just as he'd disposed of Mother.
Hannah would be different. She would be everything he wanted. She would cater to his every desire, not just because he told her to, but because she would soon learn to enjoy it.
A moan came from the room where she slept. He closed his eyes and smiled, and allowed his mind to wander to forbidden places. Yes, she would do nicely. He reached down and unbuckled his belt.
She reached down her shirt and pulled her tiny-phone from the hidden pocket, dialed a number, then typed a few keystrokes before hitting send.
“It's done.”
She crossed Lenny's name off her mental list. Now, who was her next target?
Saturday he'd almost had his chance, but that friend of hers, that bitch Megan, had showed up and they'd left together. Well, he'd waited almost a full week and now he would have her.
She hung up the phone and browsed the candy aisle. Perfect timing, the clerk at the store had just walked into the back room. Lenny made his way carefully up the aisle behind her and before she could move he had his arm around her and his hand pressed over her mouth to muffle her cries. She struggled against him, kicking and clawing at his arms, but girls like her always did that. She would calm soon enough. He pressed on a nerve cluster in her neck until her struggles ceased.
The echo of shuffling crates sounded from the back room. He needed to get out of there before he had to deal with the clerk. He was well aware of the gun behind the counter.
He lugged the limp body toward the door. The sounds from the back had grown louder. Lenny glanced around the parking lot. His was the only vehicle in sight, but he didn't want to risk any stray teens witnessing the abduction. Seeing no one, he hurried across to his truck, jerked open the door and dumped the body on the seat.
He took a final look around, slid the girl across the vinyl, and climbed behind the wheel.
* * *
The beat up old truck pulled up in front of an abandoned looking cabin. Lenny liked it that way. The secluded building was the perfect location to break in a new lady of the house.He parked before the porch, killed the engine, and looked over at the sleeping girl crumpled on the seat. He stroked her hair and smiled. She was perfect.
Exiting the vehicle, he moved around to the passenger side and pulled the door wide. He slid his arms under her and hefted her over his shoulder. So light, so beautiful. He carried her inside. She would be his last attempt. This time he would succeed.
He dumped Hannah across the bed. On either side of the head board were leather straps, which he fastened around her wrists. When he cinched the right one tight, she moaned and her hand twitched. Lenny checked the binding. It was a little constricting. He couldn't have her handicapped. She would need her hand later. A quick motion and he loosened it just the tiniest bit.
He stepped back and admired his handy work. Such a precious little thing. Her blond hair spread around her on the pillow, framing the gentle youthfulness of her face. Her little skirt didn't leave much to the imagination... He shrugged off his excitement. He would explore her later. For now, he needed to formulate a plan.
The wing back chair in the main room was his favorite perch. He lowered himself into it, and stared at the ashes of the fireplace. It didn't matter that there were no flames. To him it would always burn, just as it had when Mother was alive.
Sometimes he really missed that woman. Hannah reminded him so much of her. It was a shame when the old lady finally outlived her usefulness.
He'd tried in vain for years to find a suitable replacement. Most had been strong-willed, outspoken women. Breaking them in had been part of the appeal.
Up until now, they had all become sniveling simpletons and he didn't need someone to take care of, he needed someone to see to his needs. He couldn't just let his failures go, they would have squealed on him without hesitation. So, he'd disposed of them, just as he'd disposed of Mother.
Hannah would be different. She would be everything he wanted. She would cater to his every desire, not just because he told her to, but because she would soon learn to enjoy it.
A moan came from the room where she slept. He closed his eyes and smiled, and allowed his mind to wander to forbidden places. Yes, she would do nicely. He reached down and unbuckled his belt.
* * *
Hannah, stared down at the ax protruding from the bloody mess that remained of his head. He had slumped forward, covering the naked state of his own body. His pants were around his ankles.She reached down her shirt and pulled her tiny-phone from the hidden pocket, dialed a number, then typed a few keystrokes before hitting send.
“It's done.”
She crossed Lenny's name off her mental list. Now, who was her next target?
Sep 19, 2009
Washed Away
Tessa Murk vowed to enjoy her vacation. Drowning in misery and a dead end job with no real future in sight, she booked a four day stay at a small tourist trap, and headed west toward the coast. Only seven days remained of summer, which made for overcast weather.
She arrived at her destination--one of the smaller, less expensive hotels-- and unpacked her suitcase.. There would be plenty to do in the days ahead. This was the week of their “Founders Day Festival”, but that wasn't why she'd come. She crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning she woke eager for a walk on the beach.
Following the small footpath, she maneuvered through the beach grass down to the sandy shore. Heavy steps displaced the sand as she neared the water. She found a small pile of rocks and sat on them watching the waves lap at the feet of the beach-goers walking by in the early morning gray.
Five seagulls formed a perfectly spaced line on the water smoothed sand. Two more lined up a few yards down the beach, forming a strange barrier between her and the sea.
The fifth seagull in the first group seemed to sense her mood and closed the gap between his group and the other two birds as though trying to strengthen the invisible wall holding her back. Stopping directly center, he turned his head and looked at her dumbly. She laughed a sad dry laugh at his feeble attempt to cheer her up.
She stood and walked toward the spot he'd abandoned. At the edge of the water-soaked sand, she slipped out of her shoes and stepped onto the chilled surface. Her bare feet left indents in her wake. A wave washed over them and they vanished. She shivered. It would be just as easy for the water to steal her existence.
The beach felt deserted. Raising her head, she glanced around. Perhaps all the visitors were on breakfast time and had headed off in search of food.
Even the gulls had dispersed, more than likely also moving off to find more fodder for their gullets.
Tessa stepped forward. It would be so easy to just give in. She dipped a toe into the oncoming wave, then jerked back. three more days in this beautiful place, three more days before she decided whether to live or die. For now, she would join the other tourists for breakfast.
Wandering back up to the promenade, she passed a young woman going the way she'd just come. The girl looked up at her and smiled. Tessa swore she saw her own reflection in the eyes of the tall brunette, but shrugged it off and forced a return smile. “Be careful, the seagulls have been playing tricks today.”
The other girl smiled back, but her eyes remained glassy. “Thanks for the heads up.”
A handful of stragglers wandered the beach-- die hard tourists, most likely-- and the silly gulls were back again. She shook her head and smiled. Oh if only she were as free.
At the edge of the water she found an old drift log to straddle. She jerked her shoes from her feet and tossed them up the beach. A straggling gull darted out of the way then turned and glared at her as well as a seagull can glare. One of his friends yammered something in bird speak, and the offended creature squawked back.
Tessa laughed and turned to face the breaking waves. Leaning forward, she dug her toes into the soggy sand. The cool wetness sent a jolt through her and she sucked in a breath of salty air. It would be wonderful to feel so free all the time. Her spirits plummeted. At the end of this week she would be forced to return to her world of slavery to her job and her bills.
She slipped her feet from the sand and raked them across the holes, smoothing the area until the surface was once again level. God, she hated feeling like this. She'd be forty on Friday, the day before she returned to her mediocre life of mediocre hell. That night, she would make her decision.
Life had passed so fast. She'd done her playing, had grown up and established a steady job that she'd recently began to despise. She owned a condo, which at first had been enough to soothe her dreams. But her dreams had not progressed any further.
Two gulls screeched at each other. Tessa's head jerked up. One of the birds had began to extract a tasty morsel from a shell and the other stole it right out of his beak. Tessa laughed out loud and clamped her hands over her mouth. What a bunch of silly seagulls.
Her tummy rumbled. Swinging her leg over the log, she hopped off and retrieved her shoes while the crazy bird brains were busy with their tiff. Dealing with more glares was not on her agenda, breakfast on the other hand...
Up the path a way, wisps of beach grass swayed beckoning to help clear some of the sand from her feet. She stopped for a moment to do just that, then slipped on her sneakers and turned in the direction of the promenade. The young girl from the day before sauntered down the path, her head and shoulders slumped toward the ground. Tessa's heart pounded.
“Hi,” she said as the girl rushed by.
The other woman stopped and looked up at her. Haunted eyes stared from beneath stringy locks of dark brown hair. Tessa swallowed but didn't back down. Instead, she flashed a smile.
She knew that look.
For a brief moment, the girl's eyes lit up. “Hi,” she replied, then turned and hurried down the beach toward the lingering gulls.
A gull screeched off to her right. Tessa raised her head and followed the sound with her eyes. One bird soared into the sky, leaving the other strutting his stuff for the stringy haired girl Tessa had run into before. The girl sat straddling the drift log and digging her toes in the sand. Tessa forced herself to sit upright. For a moment she thought about joining the other woman, but then a grumble erupted from her gut.
Breakfast time.
She took a small step forward. A wave crashed over her legs. The cold ocean water shocked her system. All she had to do was dive in. Then her misery would be over. Sucking in a deep breath, she took one more step into the restless waters.
A sad, high pitched wail echoed through the night. The hair on her neck stood on end. Another wave smashed against her knees. Suddenly, Tessa wanted to live. She lumbered out of the water and hurried back to the safety of her rented room.
Panic threatened again. What did she want?
A sip of coffee. The last bite of her breakfast, eggs over easy. The waitress refilled her mug.
Tessa reached out and slid the founders day flier closer on the table. From The Suicide Grill – A True Tale of Horror.
Tessa took another sip of her coffee. This place had been her favorite haunt her entire stay, ironic considering what she'd contemplated doing. She smoothed the tri-fold pamphlet flat on the table and flipped open the top page. Therein was the story of the founder's daughter, Abigail.
Abigail played the dutiful daughter, going through the motions of life, upholding the family name. But she was never happy.
Tessa felt for the girl. Perhaps that was her in a past life. Perhaps this was her second chance.
Shortly before her twentieth birthday, young Abigail walked into the ocean. Her body was found some distance away by a local fisherman, but her father refused to claim the body, stating that his daughter was a bad seed and had run off with some outsider. The girl's body was never properly laid to rest.
Tessa's mouth dropped open. What kind of man would do that to his own daughter?
A few lucky tourists have reported seeing Abigail's ghost walking the path to the beach. But only during certain weather conditions, and ONLY during the three days prior to the anniversary of her death.
Tessa felt half sick. What were these people celebrating? Was it really lucky to see the ghost of a girl who killed herself? She shook her head then pulled the mug to her lips. People were insane.
She flipped over the back flap.
Time froze.
Haunted eyes stared from beneath stringy locks of dark brown hair.
Tessa knew that look...
She arrived at her destination--one of the smaller, less expensive hotels-- and unpacked her suitcase.. There would be plenty to do in the days ahead. This was the week of their “Founders Day Festival”, but that wasn't why she'd come. She crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning she woke eager for a walk on the beach.
Following the small footpath, she maneuvered through the beach grass down to the sandy shore. Heavy steps displaced the sand as she neared the water. She found a small pile of rocks and sat on them watching the waves lap at the feet of the beach-goers walking by in the early morning gray.
Five seagulls formed a perfectly spaced line on the water smoothed sand. Two more lined up a few yards down the beach, forming a strange barrier between her and the sea.
The fifth seagull in the first group seemed to sense her mood and closed the gap between his group and the other two birds as though trying to strengthen the invisible wall holding her back. Stopping directly center, he turned his head and looked at her dumbly. She laughed a sad dry laugh at his feeble attempt to cheer her up.
She stood and walked toward the spot he'd abandoned. At the edge of the water-soaked sand, she slipped out of her shoes and stepped onto the chilled surface. Her bare feet left indents in her wake. A wave washed over them and they vanished. She shivered. It would be just as easy for the water to steal her existence.
The beach felt deserted. Raising her head, she glanced around. Perhaps all the visitors were on breakfast time and had headed off in search of food.
Even the gulls had dispersed, more than likely also moving off to find more fodder for their gullets.
Tessa stepped forward. It would be so easy to just give in. She dipped a toe into the oncoming wave, then jerked back. three more days in this beautiful place, three more days before she decided whether to live or die. For now, she would join the other tourists for breakfast.
Wandering back up to the promenade, she passed a young woman going the way she'd just come. The girl looked up at her and smiled. Tessa swore she saw her own reflection in the eyes of the tall brunette, but shrugged it off and forced a return smile. “Be careful, the seagulls have been playing tricks today.”
The other girl smiled back, but her eyes remained glassy. “Thanks for the heads up.”
***
Tessa returned to the beach again the following morning. The weather seemed more depressing than it had the day before. Drab and gray, with a smattering of misty rain. She blinked and wiped at the wet layer on her cheeks. Her heart ached. Even the season mourned her upcoming decision.A handful of stragglers wandered the beach-- die hard tourists, most likely-- and the silly gulls were back again. She shook her head and smiled. Oh if only she were as free.
At the edge of the water she found an old drift log to straddle. She jerked her shoes from her feet and tossed them up the beach. A straggling gull darted out of the way then turned and glared at her as well as a seagull can glare. One of his friends yammered something in bird speak, and the offended creature squawked back.
Tessa laughed and turned to face the breaking waves. Leaning forward, she dug her toes into the soggy sand. The cool wetness sent a jolt through her and she sucked in a breath of salty air. It would be wonderful to feel so free all the time. Her spirits plummeted. At the end of this week she would be forced to return to her world of slavery to her job and her bills.
She slipped her feet from the sand and raked them across the holes, smoothing the area until the surface was once again level. God, she hated feeling like this. She'd be forty on Friday, the day before she returned to her mediocre life of mediocre hell. That night, she would make her decision.
Life had passed so fast. She'd done her playing, had grown up and established a steady job that she'd recently began to despise. She owned a condo, which at first had been enough to soothe her dreams. But her dreams had not progressed any further.
Two gulls screeched at each other. Tessa's head jerked up. One of the birds had began to extract a tasty morsel from a shell and the other stole it right out of his beak. Tessa laughed out loud and clamped her hands over her mouth. What a bunch of silly seagulls.
Her tummy rumbled. Swinging her leg over the log, she hopped off and retrieved her shoes while the crazy bird brains were busy with their tiff. Dealing with more glares was not on her agenda, breakfast on the other hand...
Up the path a way, wisps of beach grass swayed beckoning to help clear some of the sand from her feet. She stopped for a moment to do just that, then slipped on her sneakers and turned in the direction of the promenade. The young girl from the day before sauntered down the path, her head and shoulders slumped toward the ground. Tessa's heart pounded.
“Hi,” she said as the girl rushed by.
The other woman stopped and looked up at her. Haunted eyes stared from beneath stringy locks of dark brown hair. Tessa swallowed but didn't back down. Instead, she flashed a smile.
She knew that look.
For a brief moment, the girl's eyes lit up. “Hi,” she replied, then turned and hurried down the beach toward the lingering gulls.
***
Tessa laid on the sand and made angels on the beach. She ignored the waves as they lapped at the ground around her. The mood of the weather had broke and despite the chill ocean air, she basked in the light and meager warmth of the sun. Tessa smiled. She was scheduled to leave in the morning and she could think of no better way to start her last full day. She still hadn't made up her mind about removing the misery of her existence, but at least now she had hope. She would return to the beach after dark and make her final decision then.A gull screeched off to her right. Tessa raised her head and followed the sound with her eyes. One bird soared into the sky, leaving the other strutting his stuff for the stringy haired girl Tessa had run into before. The girl sat straddling the drift log and digging her toes in the sand. Tessa forced herself to sit upright. For a moment she thought about joining the other woman, but then a grumble erupted from her gut.
Breakfast time.
***
The sun had long since sank below the horizon. A chill settled in the air. Tessa stood ankle deep in water and waited. She had nothing to show for her life, nothing but a dead-end job, and a half-assed place to live. She wanted so much more, she just didn't know what that more was. Her week away had been amazing, but the knowledge she must return to the daily grind to become a cog in the machine once more, dragged her back into the darkness. She'd become numb inside, and what she really wanted was her spark back.She took a small step forward. A wave crashed over her legs. The cold ocean water shocked her system. All she had to do was dive in. Then her misery would be over. Sucking in a deep breath, she took one more step into the restless waters.
A sad, high pitched wail echoed through the night. The hair on her neck stood on end. Another wave smashed against her knees. Suddenly, Tessa wanted to live. She lumbered out of the water and hurried back to the safety of her rented room.
***
She avoided the beach her last morning there. Something had happened the previous night, and though she wasn't sure what, she knew she had a life ahead of her and she wanted to live it. She could do anything she wanted.Panic threatened again. What did she want?
A sip of coffee. The last bite of her breakfast, eggs over easy. The waitress refilled her mug.
Tessa reached out and slid the founders day flier closer on the table. From The Suicide Grill – A True Tale of Horror.
Tessa took another sip of her coffee. This place had been her favorite haunt her entire stay, ironic considering what she'd contemplated doing. She smoothed the tri-fold pamphlet flat on the table and flipped open the top page. Therein was the story of the founder's daughter, Abigail.
Abigail played the dutiful daughter, going through the motions of life, upholding the family name. But she was never happy.
Tessa felt for the girl. Perhaps that was her in a past life. Perhaps this was her second chance.
Shortly before her twentieth birthday, young Abigail walked into the ocean. Her body was found some distance away by a local fisherman, but her father refused to claim the body, stating that his daughter was a bad seed and had run off with some outsider. The girl's body was never properly laid to rest.
Tessa's mouth dropped open. What kind of man would do that to his own daughter?
A few lucky tourists have reported seeing Abigail's ghost walking the path to the beach. But only during certain weather conditions, and ONLY during the three days prior to the anniversary of her death.
Tessa felt half sick. What were these people celebrating? Was it really lucky to see the ghost of a girl who killed herself? She shook her head then pulled the mug to her lips. People were insane.
She flipped over the back flap.
Time froze.
Haunted eyes stared from beneath stringy locks of dark brown hair.
Tessa knew that look...
Sep 11, 2009
Equilibrium
I grovel at the feet of my bittersweet mistress,
The one whose name means hope.
Yet, she turns from me.
Her actions tear at my soul,
Ripping away tiny bits in slow torture.
“Why have you forsaken me in my time of need?”
She doesn't answer.
Instead she turns to her master,
The one who makes her whole and gives her strength,
He who is god of chaos and mischief, pain and sorrow.
Without him, she is nothing,
There would be no need for her comfort,
Her sweet and wondrous release.
Yet, without her, there would be no mischief.
Hope and pain reside together,
They are unity and balance.
They are one.
If she vanished, he would tire of our world,
In one fell swoop we'd be wiped from existence.
As long as he has her we have life.
Hope may turn her back to me today,
But chaos has been appeased.
There will be a tomorrow.
The one whose name means hope.
Yet, she turns from me.
Her actions tear at my soul,
Ripping away tiny bits in slow torture.
“Why have you forsaken me in my time of need?”
She doesn't answer.
Instead she turns to her master,
The one who makes her whole and gives her strength,
He who is god of chaos and mischief, pain and sorrow.
Without him, she is nothing,
There would be no need for her comfort,
Her sweet and wondrous release.
Yet, without her, there would be no mischief.
Hope and pain reside together,
They are unity and balance.
They are one.
If she vanished, he would tire of our world,
In one fell swoop we'd be wiped from existence.
As long as he has her we have life.
Hope may turn her back to me today,
But chaos has been appeased.
There will be a tomorrow.
Sep 3, 2009
Hope Dies Eternal
Sadistic smiles flit across the faces of the masses.
They have forgotten how to feel.
Compassion has died.
Twisted, contorted, unable to express anything more.
Lips seeded in greed and anger.
Embrace the darkness.
Life has been taken by force, besieged by the living.
It sits idly, waiting for freedom.
Existence is futile.
Goals and dreams swallowed by necessary evils.
Happiness is oppressed by need.
Emotions are numb.
One lonely girl fights against the delusional state.
She swims against the current.
Losing all battles.
Salty lines etch her flesh where tears have traveled.
She longs for another who feels.
There is no one.
Before her is the pass, a bridge to the other side.
It is here her journey begins.
Will she make it?
She steps onto the gray mass passing over death.
The path of hope less traveled.
Her first step.
Sweaty hands grip the rails, one foot then another.
Before long she can see her goal.
She stops and stares.
Sadistic smiles flit across the faces of the masses.
Happiness is oppressed by need.
There is no one.
She sinks down, heart screaming in pain and sorrow.
The bridge crumbles beneath her.
This is her end.
One lonely girl embraces death.
They have forgotten how to feel.
Compassion has died.
Twisted, contorted, unable to express anything more.
Lips seeded in greed and anger.
Embrace the darkness.
Life has been taken by force, besieged by the living.
It sits idly, waiting for freedom.
Existence is futile.
Goals and dreams swallowed by necessary evils.
Happiness is oppressed by need.
Emotions are numb.
One lonely girl fights against the delusional state.
She swims against the current.
Losing all battles.
Salty lines etch her flesh where tears have traveled.
She longs for another who feels.
There is no one.
Before her is the pass, a bridge to the other side.
It is here her journey begins.
Will she make it?
She steps onto the gray mass passing over death.
The path of hope less traveled.
Her first step.
Sweaty hands grip the rails, one foot then another.
Before long she can see her goal.
She stops and stares.
Sadistic smiles flit across the faces of the masses.
Happiness is oppressed by need.
There is no one.
She sinks down, heart screaming in pain and sorrow.
The bridge crumbles beneath her.
This is her end.
One lonely girl embraces death.
Aug 28, 2009
Jane's Euphoria
Jane hated her name. It was plane, boring, and unoriginal. She’d had it legally changed to Euphoria two years before, but friends and family still referred to her by her parent’s choice label. Their elite status in the community was the only reason her parents got their way.
She considered running again. It had never worked, and she’d tried many times. Pete always found her. Pete was her parent’s watchdog, and he made good money keeping tabs on the brats of the family.
As a free spirit, Euphoria hated being tied down. Pulling up roots and vanishing from existence appealed to her more than anything, but even that seemed impossible.
Her rebellious stage had been the best time of her life. She’d managed to stay in hiding almost six months. That had all ended when she changed her name, stupid legal system.
Things had gone downhill since Pete found her that last time. She was allowed no friends, and she attended every social function hosted by the family. She tried to do things their way, but it made her crazy.
Her parents paid for the laser removal of her tattoos, first the tribal wristband, then the butterfly on her ankle. For once in her life she appreciated their elitist motto, if they couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist. They had never seen her wings.
Held back from pursuing her own dreams, Euphoria sank deeper into her despair, her free spirit dying off little by little until she became nothing more than puppet Jane. Not long after, her folks announced her plans to wed the neighboring son of another elitist family. Even though she’d died inside, Jane smiled when the men congratulated her and the women swooned because it would be a beautiful summer ceremony.
It was the wings that saved her. Stepping out of the shower on the morning of her wedding day, she grabbed the towel, dried herself, then wrapped the damp cloth around her hair. The fog on the mirror had faded, and something caught her eye. She turned and looked. Her wings, and they had grown!
What remained of Euphoria shoved the prim and proper Jane aside and hurried to her room. There she slipped into the silky white dress meant for the reception. The fabric flowed around her, soft, and gentle, the hands of a thousand angels calling her to heaven. She smiled. Heaven. She liked the sound of that. Anything was better than the hell she lived in now. A breeze rushed in through the balcony entrance, which had been opened a couple inches to let in the cool night air. She followed its calling, and threw the doors wide. Hiking her skirt, she climbed onto the railing and clung to the branch of the nearby tree as she pulled herself up to stand tall.
The door to her room flew open. Her sister screamed, and rushed forward shrieking out her name, “Jane! Jane, you don’t need to do this!”
The girl on the window ledge closed her eyes and spread her wings. Frantic hands made a grab for her.
“It’s not Jane,” she replied, as calm as could be, “It’s Euphoria.”
And she jumped.
She considered running again. It had never worked, and she’d tried many times. Pete always found her. Pete was her parent’s watchdog, and he made good money keeping tabs on the brats of the family.
As a free spirit, Euphoria hated being tied down. Pulling up roots and vanishing from existence appealed to her more than anything, but even that seemed impossible.
Her rebellious stage had been the best time of her life. She’d managed to stay in hiding almost six months. That had all ended when she changed her name, stupid legal system.
Things had gone downhill since Pete found her that last time. She was allowed no friends, and she attended every social function hosted by the family. She tried to do things their way, but it made her crazy.
Her parents paid for the laser removal of her tattoos, first the tribal wristband, then the butterfly on her ankle. For once in her life she appreciated their elitist motto, if they couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist. They had never seen her wings.
Held back from pursuing her own dreams, Euphoria sank deeper into her despair, her free spirit dying off little by little until she became nothing more than puppet Jane. Not long after, her folks announced her plans to wed the neighboring son of another elitist family. Even though she’d died inside, Jane smiled when the men congratulated her and the women swooned because it would be a beautiful summer ceremony.
It was the wings that saved her. Stepping out of the shower on the morning of her wedding day, she grabbed the towel, dried herself, then wrapped the damp cloth around her hair. The fog on the mirror had faded, and something caught her eye. She turned and looked. Her wings, and they had grown!
What remained of Euphoria shoved the prim and proper Jane aside and hurried to her room. There she slipped into the silky white dress meant for the reception. The fabric flowed around her, soft, and gentle, the hands of a thousand angels calling her to heaven. She smiled. Heaven. She liked the sound of that. Anything was better than the hell she lived in now. A breeze rushed in through the balcony entrance, which had been opened a couple inches to let in the cool night air. She followed its calling, and threw the doors wide. Hiking her skirt, she climbed onto the railing and clung to the branch of the nearby tree as she pulled herself up to stand tall.
The door to her room flew open. Her sister screamed, and rushed forward shrieking out her name, “Jane! Jane, you don’t need to do this!”
The girl on the window ledge closed her eyes and spread her wings. Frantic hands made a grab for her.
“It’s not Jane,” she replied, as calm as could be, “It’s Euphoria.”
And she jumped.
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