I saw myself dreaming and floating freely in the air. That was my first time having such a feeling in a long time. Yet, the stinky smell stung me like a bee.
Right away, I knew something was wrong and that I wasn’t at home on my bed. But rather I found myself sleeping on a bizarre and cold concrete floor amidst strangers. It hit me right in then; those memory losses are happening again.
Whenever I’m drunk, I lose track of time, and the next day, I’d often find myself in unexpected and unpleasant places not too far away from my dwelling. This time, however, I woke up with such a massive hangover in a Mexico jail; too many miles away from home.
It was quite strange because I had no idea how I got there.
I scoured around with my weak eyes. I could barely open them.
There were four other people with me. They were all dead asleep, snoring like there was no tomorrow. I tried to get up and look around. It was so dark and quiet. I checked to see the time. My cell phone and wristwatches were gone. The silence seemed a commodity. I could only hear the whisper of the night.
I didn’t want to wake up anybody in that hour, although I wasn’t even sure of the timing. I slowly walked to the corner and sat down, waiting for the sunshine to break through the walls.
I wished everything was just a dream.
So, with the pounding pendulum sound hitting me like a migraine which seemed to break my skull, I laid my screaming head on the cold floor and closed my eyes, hoping to wake up on my warm and soft bed.
Last week, after Sahra finished her tour of duty, she came home safe and sound. It was her last mission; five whole years we had been apart, I still waited for her faithfully.
Her flight was late, and when I picked her up from the airport, we got home late. It was dark. After we pulled into the driveway and walked into the house, we dropped everything in the living room and went straight into the bedroom to dance between the sheets. To fulfill our carnal hunger, we ravished each other like wild animals.
We were the perfect union, two unique flames burning hotter than the sun. When fantasy and intimacy collide like asteroids, it could melt two hearts at once like iron in a fire.
During our unity, we made such unforgettable memories; it was a blissful time filled with exhilarating love and passion.
After the flames subdued in the darkest hours past midnight, we let out our steam of exhaustion, unable to move a muscle. Without leaving our bedroom, we curled up together like spaghetti, as if we were fighting to prevent even the air coming between us. Soon, with weary eyes, we drifted into an utterly sounding and quiet sleep as she whispered lullaby dreams into my longing ears.
Before break dawn, she woke up and went for her daily run and exercise. I stayed behind, relieved, yet still exhausted. It was a wonderful night I’d had in a long time! I didn’t want to get out of bed until Sarah would return. But I had to use the restroom—my bladders were about to explode.
When the sunray shone through the open windows, I opened the curtains and walked to the restroom. I stood by the toilet and tried to urinate When my hands could grab onto anything, I gazed down. All I could see was a plain field. Just like that, my manhood was gone. Instead, what I found shook me to my cores.
I looked in the mirror and began to unveil slowly. Nothing prepared me for what the night had stored for me; I was forever a changed man without warming. Though inside I still felt like a man, I was looking at a woman, a stranger in the mirror.
It was a bizarre situation to digest. Looking at my new self, a sudden thunderbolt of confusion hit me like a migraine. I sighed bitterly, trying to calm down my fiery nerves, so I could understand what’s happened to me.
I ran to the bedroom to put on some clothes. When I walked in, Sarah was taking off her clothes that were drenched in sweat and was heading to the shower. She stopped in the middle of the room when our eyes met; she was startled as if a red light flashed between her forehead.
“Excuse me, who the hell are you? what are you doing in my house?” she said, covering her privates, confused and lost at the same time, to say the least about her reactions.
I wanted to say something soothing but what was going to say? I am your lover Michael, the man you’d spent a passionate night together? But now I’m a woman? How absurd would that sound that when you left this morning suddenly my gender had changed? Biologically impossible of course, and absolutely an insane thought for both of us to comprehend.
Also, she might have thought that I was sleeping with another woman. I couldn’t blame her if that scene played in her mind. But I had to think of a way of telling her what’s happened to me. That would’ve been helpful if I understood it myself, too, first.
But I had no idea.
There was nothing I could do or say that would convince her to believe me. All I knew was that I had no other choice. Either she’d believe me and help me figure out the bizarre situation I’d encountered or I’d do it alone.
I had to tell her the plain truth.
“Sarah, please, don’t freak out, it’s me, Michael,” I said, getting closer to her, hoping she’d get it.
But she didn’t. She began to retract. Then, she went hysterical, running from one room to room looking for me. I was there, standing in front of her yet with a different face and body. When she finished scouring all crevices of the house, she stopped, puzzled, and stood by the door, like she began to realize that she wasn’t dreaming. She looked at me, her fierce eyes slowly dilating to calmness, still her mind in turmoil.
I told her intimate secrets and the birthmark between her thighs. The first time we’d made love, she’d told me that asides myself and her Ex, nobody ever knew about that mark.
If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t understand any of it either.
“Is this some kind of joke, “ she said softly this time. “How is this possible? This is absolutely impossible!”
I nodded because my situation was indeed impossible. But I wish I knew why it happened.
She came closer and wrapped her arms around me, held me tightly, rainfall tears rolling down on her red cheeks. She gazed into my eyes and began to explore the strange woman’s body.
I admit, I looked way better as a woman, so captivating and seductive! I might keep this new body.
Exiled to Martian
The spacecraft landed safely on the barren, dusty red-planet. Mars. It was rocky-hot, but quickly it became our new home, a permanent residence.
We explored the arid and parched topography.
For the first few years, it was such an exquisite and exuberant feeling being there. It was like falling in love for the first time. We wondered and worked in unison. We put our hearts and minds together, and endeavored to reinvent the wheels of life we’d had on Earth.
It’s been twenty-five years since our arrival. We’ve tried whatever humanly possible. Unsuccessful we remained, replicating anything that was on Earth, the green planet we’d ignored and ruined; we were unable to grow a single breath of fresh life on Maritan.
It’s inevitable that eventually, everything dies—so did our hopes.
Like the late Blues legend B.B King, beautifully sung it, “The Thrill Is Gone.”
Our hopes and dreams silently began to fade away into the scorching, grimy air.
Doomsday was coming at us again quicker than expected.
Many made peace with it, dying in silence, alone or with their loved ones in outer space.
After a while, I suppose you’d become immune to numbness and dealing with the unpleasant lifestyle, even if the cost of waiting for your own demise takes forever.
Resources were slowly depleting. We had to start rationing out the food. And the future was becoming bleak, and unpredictable.
Fear and terror reigned on our new home as we started fighting over the unsustainable future. Suddenly, all the chaos amongst us seemed familiar like looking your old-self picture in front of you, much clearer this time.
I remembered how we had also quarreled before the destruction. We shed blood like stream of water, killing every living thing on it. Then, we watched everything crumbling and dying beneath our naked eyes. We annihilated what once used to be such a vivacious and green land full of existence.
Overnight, everything on it withered away; destruction of our own doing changed our mortality. Vanity was our downfall.
Nothing changed on Maritan either. We went back to our natural survival instincts to harness it.
The killing started as the weak wished they had stayed behind.
It was too late, longing for the home we’d abandoned. We had to wait for another judgment day on the new red planet while crying rosy tears we couldn’t afford to squander.
They say that death is precious and is a natural cycle that knocks at your door in the darkness. That way, it’s easy to fall asleep forever while you’re dreaming at night when the stars and moon are glistening in the sky.
I grew weary of losing hope and dreadfully staring in the eyes of a silent killer. I knew returning to Earth was impossible. Perhaps some might call it a suicide mission. But, I couldn’t allow myself to perish while I’m standing; there was still a raging fire and breath left in me.
I started the long journey back to Earth; I might salvage whatever left of it, anything from the wreckage because there is no place like home.
It was time to rebuild a new domicile on new Earth from a scratch.
I’d rather lay my frail dreams and corpse on the same ashes I was made from, and return to dust one day than dying in a place of nowhere too far away from home.
The Last Log
August 11, 2063, 3:13 A.M. Space-Time.
My dearest Hanhanbell,
If you ever get this message, it will be my last log. By then, I'm either with you, glistening in the oceans of laughter in unison, or I’m embarking on a long forever-journey to embrace the fate of my own demise.
Either way, I am glad to have known and loved you immensely. You have brought joy, mystery, and discovery into my life.
Before this recording stops and I run out of my last breath while dancing on the full moon, I’d like to say, I'm sorry. I’m sorry for all of my missteps.
I’m sorry for putting everything on your weary shoulders while I hid in the garage; you’ve supported all of my dreams, putting yours on hold; you kissed me good night, and slept on the couch next to me.
You made me sandwiches, a hot cup of coffee and even in the middle of those long nights, you woke me up and carried me upstairs to our king bed. I miss all of it terribly now.
I’m sorry for the failures of our unfulfilled hopes and dreams, and the broken promises; you can blame it all on me.
I should’ve put you first and most. All the time I had spent hiding away to find a way to another universe, I was chipping away so much quality time from us.
I just understood how selfish I’ve been. You deserved better than what I’d promised but never delivered.
As I lie my head on the dusty surface of this magnificent star and reminisce, I've found nothing to match your beauty and grace. My long journey resulted without fruition. You should’ve been my first and last precious discoveries, my only priceless jewels.
I’m beginning to wonder why I needed to travel to another planet to find wonders when you’ve always been my only golden planet floating and gravitating beneath my two blind eyes. I'm sorry for not being there for you all the time.
I wish I could fold time and space to kiss your lips for the last time.
If we won’t be dancing together, please keep my memories alive; but move on with your life.
I hope you’ll find a wonderful person, who’ll make your gracious heart beat faster, and make you a happy woman, a joy you deserve for eternity.
Me, Myself, and I
I’m not here for glory or fame, although I like the kisses strangers give me closer to my parched lips.
I frequent writing sites such as TheProse, to vent bittersweet words to balance my daily dose of insanity. That’s like taking a shot of whiskey to take the edges of the noises dancing in your skull. The alcohol acts as a prescription drug, at least to slow down the cells from punching each other hard.
But beyond a shadow of a doubt, one thing is clear: I’m not here to indulge anybody’s ego or mind, though sometimes, I like to sprinkle a little fire on their hearts and minds, for I’m swayed by the flames of their inks and pens.
More than once today, I’ve read comments on my posts and received a few PM messages, people asking me not to tag them when I post something, because they said that I am not visiting their pages to show my support or return a favor for them reading my post.
As a writer/reader, I am not aware that we have Any obligations for such requests or each other. Nobody owes me anything or is obliged to read or comment on my posts. If people do visit my page, that’s really fantastic, but I won’t take it to the heart if they put down their heads and look away and never pass by my door. That’s how life works, and we need to accept it and move on.
Therefore, to make everyone’s life easier, from this moment forward, with the exception of a few people on my list who I don’t assume do mind if I'm tagging them, I won’t be mass tagging anybody anymore. I’ll be a lone rider; it will be Me, Myself, and I.
If Anybody is out there who do not want to be tagged, please let me know. I won’t have any reservations about your request. I’ll rather be compelled and will take it kindly.
Anyone is more than welcome to tag me anytime! It won’t cost you anything on my side!
But remember, we’re living in the era of Big Data, and please Do Not be offended if I don’t get to read your post(s).
Finally, because of one or two bad apples falling from a rotten tree, I won’t stop harvesting the remaining ripening crops if you get my metaphor.
My Hear Sings Not Love Song
Oh, my darling, my heart sings not love song
Your glistening eyes are darkened in glow
Songs change not outcomes, which I fondly long
From a heart where only wilted roses grow.
I shall live with what is my fate has restored
Your heart is barren to grow any seed
Forever sing not songs for I adored
I leave not blindly this weak heart to bleed.
Agonizing pain paid such dearly price
I’m loved yet not in symmetry order
This heart stranded not a wishful surprise
I’m forevermore refrained on border.
If this’s love ballads, shall you find unread,
Pity, not I seek, for the tears I shed.