Just the Two of Us
Her little hand is clasped in mine
She skips on small light feet
She wants to play at “Mums and Dads”
Like every time we meet
It’s not my kind of game, perhaps,
But I’ve got nothing planned
Her speech is a little slurred, you say
But I can understand
Her blue eyes looking into mine
She chats about her day
She tells me she’s a big girl now
Too big, almost, for play
And yes, she’s very small, I know
But size is nothing to me
And yes, she does throw tantrums at times
But so did I, at three
(And NO,
I’m not acquainted
With the very latest trend
I’ve been busy playing castles
In the sandpit with my friend)
Freedom’s Water
I take a glass of freedom from the table, but it shatters in my hand.
Its water cannot be contained, and it flows clean through big city streets and small town roads, from Flint, Michigan to the Navajo Nation.
At first it tastes bitter sweet, like exoneration after being jailed for a crime you didn't commit, or a sports team changing their mascot while drills break ground on sacred stolen land.
But soon, the glass ceiling above my head is encouraged by what she sees in her reflection.
Excitment shakes her loose until she cracks and breaks, sending tiny shards to gather with the broken pieces of all the drinking glasses in every state. Together they make a shiny new floor that has room enough for everyone to stand surefooted and tall.
And once we're shoulder-to-shoulder on this level ground, we have a better view. We can see that our institutions are not made of stone, as we've been taught.
No.
They're just fragile glass houses, so we pick up rocks and take aim.
Exploding like fireworks on the 4th of July, their pieces fly across the sky in technicolor as they catch the sun and cast rainbows. Even the darkest of places - from the Westboro Baptist Church to The White House - are blanketed in vivid color.
Other fragments melt in the warmth of UV rays and drip down onto cold, colorless spaces, coating them in toasted caramel and dark chocolate hues whose flavors are as rich and complex as they look. And now every business and theater and city council knows their people flourish when fed more than a steady diet of white bread.
When we drink of freedom's water the next time, we do not sip, we gulp. It tastes like nothing we've ever known, delicate and delicious.
A Glass of Freedom
I raised the glass to my lips. It tasted like freedom. Freedom from the day's troubles. From my overactive mind. I offered you the glass. I wondered what sort of freedom you tasted.
When it's just the two of us, I try to remember - too much freedom can be disastrous.
Sometimes, I think you enjoy freedom even more than I do. What does that mean?
I do like tasting freedom with you. But my mind on freedom is a dangerous place. So many pitfalls.
There are times when freedom brings me to tears. You don't like this.
There are times when freedom brings me to hysterical anger. You like this even less.
There are times when freedom brings me to shed my inhibitions. You love this.
So here we are, tasting freedom again. Where will tonight's journey take us? Do you know how close I am to offering you true freedom? Freedom from our relationship? You probably don't. But I do.
Will I have the freedom to tell you?
Just The Two of Us
Dana struggles for breath as she races through the dark forest. The branches and twigs grab at her face, arms and blue dress, but she tries to ignore the pain. Her lungs burn from the unwanted exercise and her legs threaten to collapse under her with every step that she takes.
While running, she listens for the sound of her pursuers, but she only hears herself. The girl decides to stop for a quick rest and collapses in a small clearing. While she gasps for breath, the bushes to her right rustle and the girl tiredly lifts her upper body to see what it is.
A buck bursts into the small clearing and continues running until it disappears into the bushes on her left. For a few seconds, Dana is relieved that it is only a deer, but then the thought crosses her mind that something must have scared it. This causes a new fear to erupt inside of her, and she glances around for anything that may betray the presence of another living creature.
After a few minutes of silently waiting for anything to happen, Dana stands up, but a dog bursts through the bushes and jumps her to the ground. The vicious beast tries to sink its teeth into the girl’s neck, but the latter successfully thwarts its attempts. The struggle continues until the sound of rustling bushes attracts Dana's attention.
She glances towards the direction from which the sound is coming, and the dog takes its chance. It grabs the soft flesh and holds on as if its life depended on it. The girl tries to free herself, but her movements become more sluggish by the second. After a while, she gives up and looks at the trees’ leaves above her.
Tears roll over her cheeks as she accepts her end, but then a gunshot rings through the quiet forest. The dog whelps and collapses. Voices and hurried footsteps fill the air as five men rush into the clearing. One man kneels next to the dog, another one kneels next to Dana, and the other three stand guard.
“She is alive.” The man at her side informs the others.
“Well, the dog is dead.” The other one comments.
“Don’t tarry too long.” The third speaker glances around nervously. “We have to get going.”
“I know, but what…”
Dana’s eyes close slowly and she hears no more of the conversation.
The sound of something clattering on the ground brings Dana back to consciousness.
Squinting, she tries to make out her surroundings, but her adjusting eyes and the darkness of the room makes it very difficult.
Within a few seconds, she is able to distinguish the outline of a man who standing in front of a window with his back turned to her. The moonlight that is streaming in through the window causes the man's shadow to almost reach the bed on which she is laying.
The man seems oblivious to her consciousness and continues to do something on the counter in front of which he is standing.
The grandfather clock startles Dana as it suddenly announces the third morning hour. Trying to move, the girl is held back by an extreme pain that stems from her neck.
Gently, she touches her neck and makes out the texture of a bandage, but it is warm and wet. A nauseous feeling grabs holds of her, but she forcefully suppresses it.
Her attention is directed towards the man again as he lights a lantern and walks over to the door. He glances back at his counter before opening the door and going out into the night.
Dana listens to the footsteps on the gravel until it fades away. As soon as everything is quiet, she tries to get up to explore her surroundings, but the pain continues to keep her down.
After a few failed attempts, she succeeds in sitting up. She gasps for breath before standing up completely and strolling over to the counter on which the man was working only moments before. Noticing a knife and knife sharpener, she staggers backwards and stares at the two objects in fear. Maybe he is just sharpening his knife in order to keep himself busy while he waits for me to wake up.
Dana wants to believe this, but too much has happened in the last few hours and an overwhelming urge to flee grabs hold of her. Walking over to the door just as the grandfather clock chimes the quarter-past three tune, she still tries to convince herself that everything is fine.
She reaches out to the door handle just as it is opened from the outside. The man and girl stare at each other in shock. Dana realizes that the grandfather clock’s noise must have hidden the sound of his footsteps and now she might be in big trouble. Scanning the man's face, the girl notices his cold, blue eyes and the scar that runs over his left eye. These two features seem to leave a lasting impression on her mind.
The man is the first to recover from the shock, and he cautiously enters the house and closes the door behind him. Dana flinches as she hears the sound of the door locking and watches the man closely as he edges around her with his eyes trained on her.
She gets the feeling that he is expecting to attack him, and this leaves her confused. The man turns his back on her and walks over to the place where he was before. Putting down the bag that he was carrying on the counter, he glances back at Dana before turning in such a way so that she cannot see what he is doing.
Opening the bag, he takes out a syringe and a small bottle with a clear liquid inside of it. He pushes the syringe’s needle into the bottle, pulls the handle and fills up the tube.
He looks up into the window and watches Dana in the mirror that it has formed. Glancing back down, he removes the needle from the bottle and puts the bottle down. He turns back to the girl with the syringe in his hands and walks closer to her while staring into her eyes.
Dana feels like she should run, but his eyes mesmerize her so that she stays on her spot. The man stops in front of her and his eyes trail down to her bandaged neck. Dana winces as his hand touches her neck, but still remains frozen.
The bandage loosens and falls to the ground. The man lifts the syringe, but life returns to Dana and she pushes him away before fleeing to the other side of the room. Regaining his balance, the man looks at her with confusion in his eyes.
“It is a pain killer.” He tells her with a hoarse voice.
“Oh, sorry. I was just a bit paranoid.”
The man sighs and walks over to her. He lifts the needle again, but Dana glances past him in the same instance and notices the bottle on the counter with the word POISON written on it.
In a quick movement, she grabs the syringe and injects all of its contents into the man’s neck. The latter staggers backwards and pulls the needle out of his neck before collapsing onto the ground. Dana grabs the door’s keys from him and races to the door.
Shaking, Dana unlocks the door and glances back at the man who had crawled over to the counter and took out some liquid that he is drinking now. Not waiting to see what happens, she races out into the night and towards the forest.
Three dogs suddenly come running out of the darkness and heads towards her with wild barks and bloodthirstiness written in their eyes. Dana ducks into the barn and slams the doors shut.
Still feeling unsafe from the ferocious animals, she pulls a very sturdy chair in front of the doors and walks backwards deeper into the structure. Through one of the boarded up windows, she sees the man exit the house with a rifle in his hands and a knife tucked into his belt. The girl retreats to the ladder and ascends it as swiftly as she can.
Upon reaching the top, she glances around for a safe place to hide and notices a dark corner with ropes hanging from the roof. She walks over to the darkness and tries to hide between the ropes as best she can.
After barely having hidden herself, the door is kicked open, and the dogs and their owner enter in. The man closes the doors and bars it with a heavy plank while the dogs sniff around. One of the dogs sniffs the ladder and begins to bark and howl.
The other dogs join the first one at the bottom of the ladder, and the three of them establish a spooky choir with their howling and barking. The man checks his rifle before walking over to the ladder and ascending it.
“Come out!” He searches the top floor with his eyes. “It is just the two of us.” He walks to a heap of hay that is on the opposite side of where Dana is and kicks it around a bit.
“You can hide, but you will have to come out at some point, and then I will kill you just like I did your parents and those other men.” He turns around. “Those men actually deserved what they got, because they killed my dog.” He notices a piece of blue cloth in the dark corner...
