Saul Parse and the Fear in His Mind
I was stuck to a musty loveseat, staring down, in a new fucking apartment up north. It was winter, but I was frozen for a much different reason. A horror, like I had never experienced, heated my brain like a bunsin burner. My very nerves were, like, hot glued together, or something. I saw nothing but my own boots o’er washed in static. It was “The Fear” again.
Loose in my hands was a portfolio stuffed with artwork and a ticket to an artist charity event across town. All through washing and dressing and eating I was quite nervous, but more or less functional. It was not until my fingers unlatched the front door that I fell, enveloped in some cloud of fear and pain.
I would have preferred if my mind went wild, shuffling through all of the frightening possibilities, you know. I could make a fool of myself, they could laugh in my face, they could smack my face, they could tell my face to “get a real job” then hit me with an suv. My mind would play horror story after horror story and I would frown until thinking how rediculous they were. Suddenly the thought of me being beaten to death for wearing a yellow tie would be the silliest thing imaginable. I would then imagine tying that tie around my waist and karate chopping my way to the parking lot. What a hoot that would be!
In that moment though, on that mother-loving couch things felt very different. I felt no hope, like it, all of it, was over ... done. I was so far from shore that I wasn’t sure there was one anymore. Furthermore, and most confusingly, my mind was blank but for a faint scream of a woman from my past saying “art is for fags, no one will ever love you, freak”. I was quite lost in this, unsure who I was or where I was. The only thing I was sure of was that there was no escape. I would die stuck to that couch.
With every muscle twisting, on the verge of losing consciousness, I remembered to remember ... something. No- wait, thats right . I needed to remember memories, but not any old memory. Golden Memories. I had to call forth the powerful memories that I cherished most.
At once I saw Jennifer’s buck teeth and felt her soft lips at Movie palace, professor Talbot smile and insist on presenting me my degree, and my baby nefew crawl to the coffee table to stand with the purest smile anyone had ever shown me.
With warmth, feeling like the luckiest human ever born, I gripped my work, stood with a heroic resolve and charge through the door. I have Harry and Lupin to thank for that night.
The Start of an Epic. Part 1
James watched the feather rest on her cheek. Time floated in Serena's eyes before the spark of certainty set them alight. She growled something low and savage in Bulgarian. With a flicker and SNAP the arrow vanished into the brush.
A single moment passed then SMACK and commotion. The slow arching moan of a great beast and the grand static of bending straw and dried weeds.
"I got Ha Ha!" She cackled aloud and swiped the sticky hair from her forehead. She clapped James on the shoulder and disappeared with a flourish after her kill.
"Yeah, right-on." Allen grunted forcefully. His eyes were pressed shut. The bandage he held to his hip was beginning to spot. "Sounds like it died fast." Allen said as though being dipped into hot water.
"Her eyes are good." James said, the first words he had spoken for days.
#fantasy, #distopian, #beginings
Today was bitter. I felt lower than I have in recent weeks. everything just felt like it was going wrong.
Still I am maintaining my positivity. I rediscovered how great earplugs and silence are. I got movies from the library. Things are sucky but they are also looking up. I know something great is on the horizon.
The Dark Reader
There is rain.
As white moon crawls through cloud and sky, a black shadow cat darts to nearby cove. It’s paws slap rock. It’s fur drips slow and grows light as it rolls into the deep dark.
Its eyes train on unmistakable sensation. One instant and its teeth ease into wriggling whimpering prey. Beads trail behind.
The ball of fur falls before bare feet, Illuminated by orange smoke and popping redwood.
A titanic fist caresses his companion’s damp neck. It purrs then slips back into the night.
The crackle of a page flip dances through the hollowed mountainside.
The soft hiss of air.
The drill screams to life. The spin spin spin gives rise to
The long sharp heat grows closer to Walter’s eye socket.
As it digs, curled shavings fall carelessly to the floor. Such a chorus of screams and laughter.
The garage door bursts open as Walter tugs the ball free and holds it out for all of the neighborhood children to see.
“What the hell, Walter!!” Screams his wife.
“It’s hilarious, Marian!!”
#happy #sad #shlappy #bag
“All bitterness governs me. My soul, neck and hands are warmed by the blackest coffee. My wrists, knawed by winter's cruelty.
Memories, long forgotten, bind my heart in shining chains. Chains with a lock. The key, thrown to the winds and carried to the Bermuda Triangle.
The crackle of a paint can wakes me from my daily stupor.
It is my hand that does this. My hand that sprays the letter ‘A’ in dripping red.
My hand that circles it.” Rodney lowers the paper with a self satisfied smile, as if to say ‘I am such a cool guy’.
“Pretty self indulgent, don’t you think?” Michelle pipes up from the front.
“Huh?” gasps Rodney, the paper folding limply over his fingers “I thought it was genius, and ... I mean ... it’s not even about me.”
“No one doubts that.” jabs Michelle. The class burts into collective laughter. Rodney, the heat of shame at his back, takes a seat and buries his face.
#poetry #writing #school #shame
“Always be brutal in your assessment of me.”- SpaceGhost
Warm and slow comfort. Then private pain like being scolded, or a slap to the face. Blueberries. They glint on the label like indigo gems. Moonlight.
“I saw a man I used to work with today.” He says, cutting into her sentence. At this, she starts then resets her physiology for listening. He had been a complete mute before this moment.
“You did?” She says.
“He bought me this after telling me he got fired while his mom was dying of cancer.” He, oblivious to her reaction, picks at the knots in his crotch. A hollow night wind ruffles the spare grass on the forest floor. Her skirt flutters upward with such magesty, but he does not notice. So intensely does he stare into the moonlight. “I guess he started drinking a lot after that. Came into work drunk and they fired him.”
“That’s sad.” She says. He grunts and sends a few bubbles to the bottom of the glass bottle.
“He wanted me to come over, have a bonfire, but I told him I was busy. His face grew dark and he left without saying another word to me.”
“That’s sad.” She says.
“He just left like we were strangers. He didn’t even ask my number or anything. Just like-” His voice cracks and he gives up on the rest.
“If my mom got cancer I don’t know what I would do. Probably lie in bed and cry my eyes out. I think that hopefully, eventually I would get over it, but I wouldn’t want to. I just think about how hard I cried when Mitsy, my cat, died when I was eleven ...” He hears little through the fog, but watches her speak still. How lucky he feels to have someone close.
#someoneclose #perspective #sad