Posts Tagged ‘alone’

I never imagined the city could be this full of sunshine. I imagined large shadows cast by skyscrapers and an almost solemn feel to the city streets. Instead, I was met with reflected light bouncing off of ever glass siding, people hurrying, and traffic bustling.
The only things I could see that reflected the burden of my own soul was the trapped wrappers and litter in the storm drain guards, unable to fly free. Everything else was a whirlwind of anxiety-inducing movement.
I made my way down the street, constantly being brushed aside as people pushed past my slower pace or knocked me back as they went the opposite way. I stopped once for a traffic light to change and looked up into the sky. The sun fired back a blinding stare that seemed to shine down upon me in judgment. I dropped my gaze as well as my shoulders as the light changed and a tide of us stepped off the curb and across the street where we met the oncoming tide halfway. Everyone seemed to slip by each other, yet I found myself colliding with someone and apologized as I admired their shoes and absorbed their muttered cursing.
Once I made it to the other side an argument could be heard arising from somewhere to my left. I glanced up to see a police cruiser with its lights flashing and two cops arguing with a homeless man. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was all just a garbled mess of city noise and muted voices. I hesitated as others just went about their day and parted like water around the confrontation.
A yell brought my attention back to them in time to see the homeless man had a gun in his hand now. A woman screamed as the officers unholstered their own weapons. The closest officer was motioning with his free hand palm down towards the cement. The look in his eyes was a plea as he whispered, “Please don’t do this.”
I was there then, standing so close I heard the whisper. It was in that moment that I knew why I was here. I had wandered these streets for weeks now with no purpose, until this moment.
In kindness, I reached out towards the homeless man. The closest officers eyes flicked from me to him as he said, “Just stay back.” But I wasn’t here to harm, I was here to help.
I placed my hand gently on the man’s shoulder and told him, “It’s okay.”
His head jerked around towards me and his body shifted as well. I started to smile for him when I saw the muzzle of the pistol and a flash. I never heard the shot that struck my chest. I just remember being pushed back by the velocity of the .45 ACP round as it rocked me back on my heels and caused me to take an involuntary step backward. I did hear the shots from the officer’s pistols though as a thunderstorm rolled through the city streets. It lasted all of five seconds.
There wasn’t as much smoke in the air as I thought there would be, even though you could smell the cordite from the gunpowder. As my hearing slowly came back to me I remember hearing the crackling of the police radio. A crowd had gathered only to take shelter and was now begging to gather again but no one spoke. Not that I could hear.
An officer was telling me to sit down and relax, that they had help coming for me. I looked down and found my hand pressed against my chest where the bullet had hit me. I pulled my hand away to find the collapsed bullet in the palm of my hand and no hole in my chest.
A woman looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “God bless, you’re bulletproof!”
My legs gave out then and my ass collided with the cement as I sat down heavily.
Tears begin to spill from the corners of my eyes as I looked up at her and replied, “I don’t want to be.”
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Strangers

Posted: September 20, 2017 in Stories, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

I sat alone at 3am, staring into the darkest shadows the park had to offer, half convinced something evil lurked just out of sight.
From the highway, I could hear the cars, such a soothing sound at this distance. The low, never quite ending hum, changed only by the occasional shift in pitch depending on the vehicle, its engines, and its tires.
The leaves shook with the breeze when it decided to drag itself across the grass, sometimes pulling a faint scent of perfume to me from somewhere. Perhaps someone had dropped a bottle during a day trip or a picnic. I just smiled and welcomed the scent of jasmine.
As I sat staring out into the night I felt the bench shift and lift me up a fraction of an inch as if someone had sat next to me. I hadn’t heard anyone walking through the grass but as I turned I saw a woman sitting next to me. There was nothing menacing about her appearance and when she spoke I caught a touch of sadness quivering on her lips, “Do you remember me?”
I started to reply but she cut me off, “I’m sorry, that’s not the right question.”
I squinted but with her head down I couldn’t quite see her face until she raised her head and looked at me. I saw her eyes then, and the tears in them.
“Will you remember me?” She asked.
Before I could think to answer the park bench creaked and shifted, sitting me a tiny bit lower. She faded into the night then, without seeming to move at all.
I sat there for an hour longer before tears came to my eyes and I cried quietly. The breeze crept through my shirt and soaked into my soul, but the smell of jasmine was an hour gone.

Do you see her there, quietly crying at the water’s edge as the river rushes by? Can you make out the teardrops from where you are? Let me remove a cloud so they catch a quick reflection of the moonlight on their way down. Now can you see?

Would you like to know what she is crying about, this little thirteen-year-old child who shouldn’t be out here alone, especially this late at night?

I can tell you if you would like, you see, I know her. I know her better than you could possibly imagine. We sit out here together sometimes, for hours on end talking, laughing, and crying.

You don’t seem all that concerned, have you not figured out who she is yet? It is pretty dark tonight, let me call her name.

No, no, it’s too late to be scared. Sit back down. Here, let me tighten these restraints a little more.

She can’t hear you, I’ve brought you here to observe, nothing more.

Look behind us, can you see the back door to your house? Yes? Good. Do you know why we are right here and not somewhere further off in the woods? Do you have any idea the thought that has been put into this? Of course, you don’t, so let me tell you. We are the furthest distance from which she can still hear the baby cry if it wakes up. You see, your daughter isn’t quite as uncaring and selfish as you keep telling people so that you can collect sympathy praise for having to raise her alone. She’s become quite good at caring for her younger siblings because daddy is far too busy chasing dragons, pussy, and an escape from age and loneliness.

Calm down, bravado doesn’t impress me. Look at her.

Do you still want to know why she is crying? She’s crying because you took away her phone. No, not because she lost her phone. You’re thinking way too simple mindedly. You took away her only means to combat the rumors that are running rampant through social media. You can’t stop others, but her silence she fears will look like guilt. You’ve stolen one of her guilty pleasures that help her get through the day, her music. Her outlet that she uses as she stands in the shower crying along to the lyrics, that was her release.

That’s not the only reason she is crying. She’s also crying because she believes you. She believes that she is ungrateful, even though she cries herself to sleep sometimes out here telling me how thankful she is to be able to feed her siblings and see them smile and play. How grateful she is to have blankets and a pillow, to have clothes, and even though you wouldn’t buy her any, she is thankful that she found her mothers makeup bag so she can practice and pretend that her life is like so many others out there. She’s even thankful for you, even though you leave them alone almost nightly, you have always come back within a day or three, and for that she is thankful.

Shh, I don’t care about your childhood. Tonight isn’t about you, it’s about her.

That’s right, look at her there. Look closer. Sadly I can’t make the moon shine brighter for you, but let’s take a second and listen closely.

Oh, you heard that didn’t you, the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered in your favorite 1911 pistol? Yes, you can see it now as she raises it. See how the nickel plating catches the moonlight and throws it around so violently as her hand shakes? It would almost be beautiful if it were an abstract thing, don’t you think?
I told you she can’t hear you. It is far too late for you to intervene. You should have done that months ago when she was crying for you not to go when she was begging you to help her because she couldn’t handle it anymore. She was just a silly girl then, huh? Responsibilities are good things for children to learn, right? You had it so much worse when you were her age. I know.

I’m sorry, all this talk and I don’t think I even introduced myself properly.

My name is Death, now if you’ll excuse me I have to go see to your daughter.

 

 

 

Posted: June 8, 2016 in Poetry
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That’s nice of you to say
But I lost a whole family
In a single sunny day
Nothing left to tether
No purpose left to portray
I lost more than a mother
The day she passed away

Every night at 1:09 the power flickers and then goes off, it struggles to come back but then fails again and stays off until 1:11… It was curious the first couple of times. Tonight was the seventh night in a row it has happened.

Maybe it’s something more, maybe, just maybe, every night at 1:09 there is a force at work, struggling to break through, to gain entry.

Imagine masses of hungry, beady eyed monsters, snouts slick with hunger and nostrils flaring as they push and strain, crushing the smaller ones in their surge. Hate rising like steam from their scaled flesh as their cries slip passed the barrier, filling the night with terrible sounds. The birds burst silently from their nests within the trees and disappear into the folds of night, the insects all fall silent in fear, waiting with abated breath. The neighbors sleep unaware as I stand at my window, waiting for the dam to break, for the lost battle to begin, as I cautiously stare into the darkness. For two minutes I wait, alone…
Then the lights come back, the fridge hums to life, the clocks begin their flashing alerts, and I alone breathe a sigh of relief…