Dead and Alive (Written 6/26/09)

I may have died a while back. Perhaps we all did. It would explain why this world doesn’t make any sense anymore. We’re all just moving blobs of meat and juices. Consequences seem to have no hold. People do whatever strikes their fancy at a moment’s notice. They call it living but I don’t see it that way. We are dying, each moment wasted away because we are too stupid to see that. Let us wine and dine. Let us sleep and seduce. It won’t matter in the morning.

Poison (Written 2/17/09)

Everything about you gets under my skin. You run around in my blood stream, killing me slowly. So slowly, and so painfully. There is no release from it. It only dulls away when we are together, but now we are separate so the pain increases. I know of no antidote. Perhaps my cure is getting rid of you. If that is the only way, I shall keep the pain. I hope you are worth it.

A Walk in the City (Written 2008)

It’s almost midnight in New York City. Our heroine, Mimi Hawkins, is walking to her apartment on an empty street. She just had a lovely evening out with her friends and is dressed to impress. It’s not too cold out, so her clothes show a good bit of skin. Dangling from her hand is the brand new Gucci bag she bought only yesterday.

It’s nice and quiet, but Mimi has no music to fill her ears with, so she listens to the music of the city. Babies cry, fathers scream, lovers whisper, and cars honk.

Her calm concentration is broken by sharp clacking of flat shoes on concrete. At first it does not bother Mimi, but when the steady beat of footsteps grows unsteady and faltering she panics.

Flipping her hair, Mimi tries to look over her shoulder at the other pedestrian, but she can’t see any definite. Everything is shrouded in shadow. She keeps walking. Only after walking a bit forward, do the footsteps grow faster. Whoever is behind her is uncomfortably close and Mimi can clearly hear incoherent mutterings. There’s no one but the two of him, so Mimi’s terrified of her insane stalker. She should never have left the pepper spray at home.

Mimi has come to a crossroad with cars rushing past her, neon lights flaring. Panicking, Mimi glances down the street but the traffic is heavy and the light will not change. The footsteps stop only centimeters behind her and the mutterings are right in her ear.

Angry and fearful at the same time, Mimi slowly turns her head around. As suspected, a man is standing closely behind her, hunched over in a long black trench coat. She is about to angrily scream and him and then kick his groin, when a small flash catches in her. In his ear is a pulsating green disk. Ah ha! He’s only talking on his phone and not an insane serial insane rapist. How silly of Mimi to doubt this man’s good intentions!

Relaxed now, her muscles effortlessly unwound since there is nothing to fear any more. Breathing naturally, Mimi lowered her arms and gently smiled at nothing. While her fingers were first tightly wound around the handle of her beloved bag, they now lessened their grip.

While Mimi shook out her hair, the street light changed to green and the opposing traffic halted. After fixing a single loose hair, she took one step forward, but was knocked down by a hooded hoodlum rushing at her bag. With no resistance and a quick tug on his part the purse was quickly transferred into the hands of the thief.

As he ran out into the street and out of sight, Mimi started to hyperventilate and turned to the man behind her. “Aren’t you going to help me!” she shrieks at the man, who turns his head away from her. Fuming with rage, she roughly grabs onto his arm and shakes it.

“Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” he snaps at her in response and then walks away. (c)

To Jack (Written 2006)

He slides his small feet into his thick boots, grinning as his ties the laces. Grabbing his coat, he can hear his mother calling.

“Are you going to be warm enough?” she yells, appearing in the doorway with a towel in her hand. “Well, Jack?” she asks him.

“I’m fine,” he responds, smiling brightly. She bends down and wraps a thick grey scarf around his neck. In the background Jack hears his brother playing video games.

“It’s a shame no one will go outside with you,” his mother calls out loudly while adjusting the scarf.

“We’re real busy Mom! It’s the middle of a boss fight and I haven’t saved in ages,” one of his brothers calls out. Their mother sighs and ruffles Jack’s brown hair. He smiles at her and then gives her a quick hug before running out the door and into the outer world.

Pure white snow nests on the world outside his home, shimmering like flawless diamonds. Patches of ice coat the ground, adding to the blinding shine. With unadulterated excitement, Jack runs out into the show. He is shocked upon seeing that the snow does not sink under his weight, like it did last year and the years before. Jack now jumps up and down, but the snow remains firm. Running forward with glee, his feet unexpectedly slide on the ice-coated ground. Amused by this new discovery, Jack rubs his feet on the pure snow and he slides forward, all the while laughing with excitement.

He continues to run about the yard for half an hour, slipping and sliding like an inexperienced ice skater. At the window, his mother stands and watches him glide back and forth. She smiles upon seeing the boy she once took into her home and arms, someone once terrified of the world, so happy now.

Jack sees his mother watching him and he waves wildly at her, but the action sends him sliding. She laughs and then applauds his efforts as Jack falls into the show. While flailing his arms, he tires to stand up, so his mother comes outside to help him onto his feet. Once he is up and standing steadily, Jack throws his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Can I please stay out a little longer?” he asks and she nods without a thought. Laughing for joy, Jack returns to his play and she returns to preparing dinner.

Years pass and he stands in the snow once more. Everything looks different to him now; everything but the snow. Jack is no longer the same little boy that he was, but the beauty of the snow still holds the same attraction.

He takes a deep breath and slides his foot forward. Just like before, he slides forward on top of the snow. With a booming laugh, he glides back and forth on the icy lawn, happy to return to the simple joys of childhood.

His mother no longer stands at the window, but his older brother takes her place. It is unknown if he sees what their mother saw all those years ago, but before he goes outside he mutters a single word: “Idiot”. (c)

Haunting Monsters of the Night (Written 2007)

It happens almost every single night,

They creep out of the darkness of our mind,

Dangerous with their hate so blind.

Leaning against the wind, fangs ready to bite,

The bravest man cannot bear the sight

Of these monsters and demons combined.

Never walk dark streets without looking behind,

Seeing us writhe in pain brings much delight

So every dark night, they feed on you and I,

But what will in turn ever feed on them?

I highly doubt anything ever will,

Since they are the ones we cannot condemn,

Living as a part of us until we die.

Always they haunt our minds in nights quite still.

How I Fell (Written 2/2/09)

The moment I saw you, I fell. I fell so hard and so fast, and I knew it. It did not matter to me because I trusted you. I trusted you to catch me as I fell. But you didn't, so I crashed. How that crash hurt me. Hitting my head on those jagged rocks was the worst thing I ever felt. But as I awoke from the coma, my head was clear. Never again will I fall, unless I know he will catch me.

The Hunchback's Dream (Written 1/28/09)

High up and far away from this world, the young hunchback watches everything from his tower. No one sees him; no one knows he is there. He is separate from everyone, but immersed in their lives. The Hunchback is there as the maid washes the family's clothes, the butcher throws away his scraps, the girl picks flowers in the meadow, and the father leave his family.

He shares their sadness and offers them consolation, even if they do not know he is there. The Hunchback then delights in their joys, laughing along, and clapping his large hands. It's as if the whole world is putting on a show, just for him. But the Hunchback does not want to be an observer of this spectacle of life. He wants to be a part of it; right in the middle of the story. Why watch everything when you can make it your own.

The little Hunchback wants to wave his hands at his friends and pass out flowers to the baker's daughter, who he thinks is the prettiest girl in the world. He wants her to be his first kiss, and then eventually find true love. In the end, he wants what we all want, but we can get it.

He is condemned to forever observe other's joys. He can only look, never touch or feel. It is a sad existence, and he knows it. If only our Hunchback could come down down from his tower. But he is too scared to place himself up for our judgement. And we are fearful to welcome his disfigured self into our world. So we all keep our places in this life. Perhaps one day the Hunchback will come down from his tower and walk our streets. Perhaps one day someone will go up to his tower and see his world.

(c)

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