Escape Plan
"How did we get here?"
He asks the question rhetorically, and she watches his face carefully. She's grown accustomed to his monologues, but she's never sure if he's seriously asking until she looks at him.
Her eyes dart from him to her fingernails. They've been freshly painted, but she looks for chips and waits for him to continue.
"It seems like only yesterday." He looks down at her and she catches his eye. She grins convincingly, and he leans down to place a hand on her head.
She ignores that it feels so very like when she used to scratch her dog.
"Do you need anything from the store, love?" His voice is soft, but she knows the kindness is only temporary. She is one missed que, one wrong word away from wrath.
Sometimes wrath pays a visit anyway.
"Could you bring me some peanut M & Ms?" She lays on a little charm, but not too thick. Puppy-dogs her eyes but doesn't bat her lashes. Lips set in just the right amount of pout.
"You've never asked for candy before! Certainly. Anything for my best girl."
She's reminded of that dog again, but she pretends to laugh good naturedly. "Thank you," she purrs.
He sighs. "It seems like yesterday when you hid in my little corner shop."
She nods. It was seven hundred and thirty two days ago, you fuck, she thinks, but can never say. "I love you," is a lie that slips past her lips so often that it leaves her mouth feeling oily.
"Be back soon." He leaves, and she sighs when the padlock clicks against the steel door. While not gilded, the cage is comfortable enough.
Buried twenty feet below the man's Brooklyn bodega, she remembers the night she dodged the cops and became a fly stuck in a far worse web. He let her into the store room, gave her a slushy, and she woke up a literal kept woman.
Her escape is imminent, though. For years, she'd studied him. Learned what made him angry, what made him happy. She feigned hope and good cheer, even though both had withered on the vine and rotted away long ago.
What he didn't know was that she nearly died in the sixth grade when she was at a slumber party. The host never considered severe allergies when she served peanut-butter chocolate chip cookies to the kid who didn't pay attention before taking a bite.
She'd never asked him for candy before, and she felt lucky to know she would never need to ask again.
Rescue
She'd been behaving differently for ages.
Long bouts of sadness followed by incredible highs; there was definitely a cycle of ups and downs that no one had noticed earlier on.
Sometimes the lows would go on for days, if not weeks. Nothing could seem to get her interested in the games she used to play, the foods that used to be special treats.
She'd spend hours stretched out on the couch. The television would be on, but she'd not be paying any attention. Instead, her eyes would dart from the windows to the door, every now and then straying to follow shadows and listen to whispers that may not have been there at all.
In her manic phase, she'd be incredibly animated. She'd jump up from that sofa, run around the house, begging to be seen and heard. Her voice would sing, and her breath would be ragged. It was truly a sight to behold, in that most joyous of joys.
It took almost two years to notice a pattern.
In the beginning of those two years, the whispers were thought to be imaginary.
Turns out, they were just hard to hear.
It was late October, or maybe the first of November, when Margaret heard him speak.
"Hey, girl."
Just that. Nothing more, and the reaction was instantaneous. Like a switch had been thrown, she'd leapt up and began dancing with excitement. Her voice elevated as surely as her mood; there was wordless song and boundless joy.
These fits of happiness would last anywhere from minutes to hours, and everyone who witnessed them couldn't help but smile.
When Sadie danced, the world danced with her.
When Sadie smiled, the world grinned.
His girl would instantly brighten, and people who've never lived with a dog can't possibly comprehend their capacity to smile.
Margaret was the woman of his dreams, but now she is his widow. Sadie was and will always be his best girl. She was a rescue, more Heinz than Golden, but they were 57% sure she had Retriever running through her veins. Sadie had been with him since before the wedding, long before the funeral. He used to joke that he wasn't sure who rescued whom.
The incredible thing is, for the last two years, Sadie has still been playing with her master.
It never occurred to Margaret to be afraid. She would cry and she would laugh as that big, adorable mutt jumped on the furniture, chasing a man years gone, but impossibly here.
"I love you," she once managed to choke during a Sadie celebration.
Tail wagging, the dog came up to her and put her head in the widow's lap.
"I know," the room whispered, and for the first time in months, Margaret laughed.
Stoicism vs. Modern America
This is not an essay on the history of the Stoic philosophy or a judgment on any of its ideals. There are thousands and thousands of books and scrolls and web pages and podcasts which cover the specifics. This is simply my thoughts on how an enduring moral philosophy is applicable today. I know Prose has done away with timestamps, but for context, this is written by a middle-aged, white American, in a southern state during the second Trump/Biden presidential race.
America, has developed some recent social problems in the past decade or so. There is a great distrust in the media. Traditional media, such as network news and newspapers, have become labeled as enemies of the truth and enemies of the people. Nothing seems to exist in a politically neutral sphere anymore. Education is being accused of “brainwashing” children to indoctrinate them into whichever philosophy is antithetical to the person telling the story. Modern media, social or simply web pages, allow people to find stories they wish to hear, regardless of their accuracy. People search by conclusion (the Earth is flat) rather than by question (is the Earth flat) and limit their perspective to what they wish the answer to be.
Science and medicine have fallen into similar disfavor. Doctors are no longer treated as experts who have spent a considerable amount of time learning their craft. Pharmaceutical companies are perceived as a necessary evil driven by profit rather than a motivation to help human kind. The rigors of the scientific method are scoffed at as people would rather “do their own research” rather than understand the concept of scientific facts. The resurgence of flat-earthers and anti-vaxxers are a tribute to a loss of rational thought. The ancient Greek philosophers contemplated a round Earth in somewhere around 300 BC and Eratosthenes determined the size of our sphere (at least a damn fine guess for the lack of much technology) a hundred years later.
All of the above problems have a history which is not going to be discussed here. Do your own research.
The moral philosophy of the Stoics have strong foundational tenets which, while not solving the base problems mentioned above, would certainly help an individual navigate through a complicated world.
One tenet is the responsibility people have to each other. Stoics found humanity joined to each other in two important ways. First, we are all part of the divine, and share that quality with each other. No man, from Emperor to slave, is disconnected from any other person. Second, we all have an obligation to make society work. For mankind to live its best life, there needs to exist a certain level of trust and cooperation between everyone. Roads could not connect distant cities without a higher level plan rather than what could be accomplished by a single individual. The modern Stoic would embrace these beliefs to deal with the often volatile politics of today. There is no judgment in one have a differing political view because there are many paths to the same outcome. They would ignore the divisiveness and dismiss any activity detrimental to an individual or society. Violent rhetoric would be considered abhorrent and treated as not in line with Stoic virtues and morality.
Stoics also believed in rational thought above else. They recognized that intense feelings could cloud the judgment and lead to one behaving in an irrational manner. They valued accepting that nature is rational and also realizing that only the behavior of oneself could be controlled. There is little judgment in good or evil, as everything happens for a rational reason. In a tumultuous political and social climate, individuals would do well to concentrate on their own behavior and only work on what they can change.
As stated, one can only change oneself. Stoicism places an obligation on an individual to improve oneself. A benefit of such an obligation is that as individuals approve, so will society. An individual is meant to be virtuous and has a duty to improve in that direction. Rational thought and the suppression of too strong of any emotion will allow one to learn wisdom, insight, self-control, and justice.
The Stoic tenets would serve an individual well in any time period, but especially in the passionate, narrow view which currently seems to permeate our modern society.
We don’t Know.
That is the most honest thing to say.
I made a pact with someone passed, that whichever of us should go first, we would show a sign, if there were some means of communicating from the other side. When the fatal moment arrived, I thought surely, I would be haunted to the end of my life.
Contrawise. Though, I had this strange sensation of absorbing the passing spirit that night--waking in a baptismal kind of sweat through every pore of my body.
The cut, since then, has been as if final. God knows I am all too adept at making shit up. What do we call it? --"self-gaslighting"---?!
No such thing. Perhaps I have failed to see. Maybe the timing is not right, for a sign. Maybe that Individual consciousness is still alive and knows that it would harm more than comfort, if sighted.
Or maybe, the door is barred. Or there really is, Nothing at all...
We just don't know.
If you got ’em
There's an awkwardness that my parents used to fill with smoking. Not sure what to do with your hands? Light up. Finished a good meal? Burn one. Need a break? Step outside, shake out a menthol (mom) or a Basic-light (dad).
I say an awkwardness, but I'm not sure. Maybe they weren't awkward at all. Maybe they just didn't know what to say. We never really discussed politics, religion, or anything important. I'd get asked about school, but I never had much to share.
My grandfather smoked a pipe, but sometimes he liked a Tampa Nugget. That was rare. Mostly, he was packing the bowl with Carter Hall. I don't ever remember him smoking it in a restaurant, though.
I tried it, but the habit didn't take. I found the pipe too rough and the cigarettes unfulfilling. All they did was leave me tasting ashtrays and wondering where my money went.
I used to always carry a Zippo in college, though. Some of the jobs I worked, I'd hang out with the smokers. They were an overall affable bunch, friendly, chatty. They appreciated that I always had a light. A girl asked me once where my smokes were, and I just grinned. "I save them for bed," I cracked wise.
She was disappointed to learn that was a lie, when she came over later.
I'd be lying if I said that was her only disappointment, but we can't win 'em all.
I have no idea where that Zippo is now. Maybe I found it not long ago when I did some cleanup of my storage building, but I likely tossed it right back into the box with all her old loveletters.
All of them.
I smelled her perfume in that cheap plastic tub as soon as I lifted the lid.
She flirted with smoking for a short while, but gave it up pretty quickly.
She flirted with marrying me for a while, but gave up that idea pretty quickly, too.
My parents don't smoke anymore. My dad, because he's dead. My mom, because I told her one of the reasons I didn't visit was because I had to wear dirty clothes to her house and wash them while I took a shower just as soon as I got home. That was a long time ago, when we lived in the same town.
I remember that conversation when I look over at the dry erase calendar on my wall and realize I don't have a visit scheduled in the foreseeable.
I should change that, but there's an awkwardness that my parents used to fill with smoking, and I don't know how to fill it anymore.
Brushing Sand
Answer number one: it was beautiful, and then it was dust, and then it was both.
I remember seeing the rover for the first time. I almost didn’t want to touch it, like it was holy, a bone from a saint. Then I stepped back and saw my bootprint next to it, and I knew, fully, where we were.
The four of us had studied Mars exhaustively for years and viewed every image, still or moving, dozens or hundreds of times. We had felt the sand that first sample-return drone recovered: a box of precious nothingness, 10 centimeters square, every grain analyzed and formulated by celebrated scientists. They learned so little from it. But what we felt, we chosen four who immersed tentative fingers within it, let it rest in the grooves of our fingerprints...
Full story newly published by NewMyths here: https://sites.google.com/newmyths.com/newmyths-com-issue-66/issue-66-stories/brushing-sand
Years ago, the early draft of this story appeared for a brief time on Prose. The response was favorable, and also included some criticism that helped me realize the story could be better. After a great deal of reworking, I am very proud to share the final, published version with my Prose friends. Thanks to all who commented on that early draft, but especially to TheWolfeDen, whose challenge inspired the story, and JD4, whose criticism was sharpest and therefore the most helpful.
i not I
Its been a few years, some days i wish i never met you, or loved you...
Truth is i’m hurt.
You loved me until you didn't, then used me because i was the only one there after all the bs.
i just wish you didn't act like i don't exist anymore.
How do you get over it so easy?
The way you looked at me when we ran into each other, so much nothingness in your eyes, so different from when you used to look at me with sparkles in them.
i truly think our love was the once in a lifetime love, a love meant to last.
Oh well, everything does have an expiration date...
Our last hug.
The hug I thought would deluge back all those memories,
Was the one that made me feel it was actually extinct.
That futile hug,
The hug that meant nothing to you.
The hug I thought would solve every complication,
That hug, the one that ended my biggest one.
That hospitable detached hug,
The hug I thought would be warm and heartfelt.
The tiresome worn out hug,
That hug I longed for.
That hug you didn’t want to participate in,
The hug I endured wasn’t the old one.
That hug that I contemplated would make you come to your senses,
The hug did nothing to you,
that it did to me.
Foreknowledge
I knew how this would conclude
yet I had expectation
I knew why I never truly granted one to love me
yet I decided you’d be the one
I knew I wasn’t deserving
yet neither were you
I knew I’d grieve you when I rouse up
yet you profess I didn’t exist
I knew we would terminate as strangers
yet I couldn't ever accept it
I knew I’d perpetually love you
yet you‘d turn away
I knew I was incapable of having someone to myself
yet you never wanted me anyway
I knew some would call me doolally
yet no one knew the things I’d do to have you back
I know I love you
Maybe someday you'll come back.
You
I permitted YOU engrave roots into my palms,
As if YOU ever showed any deservingness,
Though that never seemed to signify anything to me.
I’d sheltered YOU from frigid temperatures,
Only to leave myself congealed,
All for him I told myself, All for YOU.
I fed YOU as YOU forever devoured it all,
While I dealt with inanition alone, Yet you'd make a foul sound at anything,
All for YOU I repeated, All for him.
I started questioning the statement "all for him",
Your smile as beautiful as apricity,
Yet your lies deeper than a black hole,
All for you though…
No longer for YOU, All for me,
At least that’s what I try to tell myself.
The reality is, it’ll always be YOU.