Day Two

I stepped out on the balcony to vape the lady across from me was also vaping. Instead of relaxing I spent the whole time hoping that she wouldn’t say anything to me.

She didn’t.

I took Nova out to make. We walked around the whole building and discovered the people on the first floor don’t pick up their dogs business when he is done. Animals!

 

Day One

I find I fight the urge to peek out the window every five minutes. What could possibly be out there? I bet a lot has changed since I came into the apartment and locked the door behind me.

Also I walked out to my truck and the neighbor down the hall came out. I’m not sure which one of us broke the unwritten rule. I’m pretty sure we are not meant to see each other.

I also discovered a drawer full of outlet covers. I am the ruler of the face plates. Come gets some.

 

10 Followers

A few weeks ago I decided to put excuses aside and start blogging. I just assumed I would be making a digital journal. I did not expect to see the following and love that I have received! Maybe ten followers isn’t as big of a deal to some as it is to me, but the way I see it, the first ten helped keep me motivated.

To try to explain in any sense, how much that simple click of the follow button means to me would strongly diminish it’s value – being a writer I feel comfortable enough saying that – there really is no way to say it than simply to say, Thank You.

I write because it’s an escape, I can create and explore what ever world I wish to explore and the only limit is my imagination, (I know what a cliché). These last few weeks, I’ve made a big transition, finally getting to move into my apartment after a fire burned our house down on Valentines Day, which also happens to be my anniversary to my late wife, who passed away in august the year before, from complications after child birth (the baby is okay). Valentines Day is also my 4 year old daughters birthday, (My wife and I would have been married 4 years this year, (I’ll let you put two and two together).

I would say we have had a bit of bad luck. Yet I write, I write with hopes that maybe people will be interested in what I have to say. Hope that maybe it will help me clear my mind and shake the webs, But I also write (on this sight) with hope that I can kill two birds with one stone and both clear my mind and entertain. I am hopeful that maybe for once I can put aside my insecurities and show people what I have created, without fear.

So a follow and a like can mean more than you think, and that is true for me. Thank you to everyone that reads my post, comments, like, and follows. I hope that my following will keep growing, but regardless I will keep posting no matter what. By the way if you’ve made it this far than know this, you are the people I am talking about, the real MVP! I hope you come back and enjoy what you read in the future.

Froth: Love Incarnate.

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We are like the sea and the land, the beach and the water colliding. Agitating one another, with a passionate friction, the ebb and tide creating a luminescent glow that only we knew about. We belong by each other but not with each other. You are meant for things I could never imagine and I, the same in your eyes.

I wish that we could be as the ponds or the lakes. The land holding the water, surrounding it and letting it erode parts away. Till the water is comfortable and free yet protected.

At last that can not be us, for you the sea are to much to tame an entity all it’s self, free and unpredictable. Yet calm, cool, and tranquil when needed.

And I the land, although I am very important for life, I sometimes wish to be set free! To rumble and crack, having you fill every crevice of my being! To feel the tsunamis of your love crash against my shores, in euphoric ecstasy. The ebb and tide of your waves moving across my beach with such pleasure that we can’t help but froth!

Yet it can not be, for we are too important in our own worlds and to our own creatures! We found our niche and that is were we belong, but to say I have forgotten what we had or what we once were would be ridiculous. The memories of what created, what we now are, will forever be ingrained in my life.

A super continent and massive body of water inchoate in life. We started young and have come so far. So it is, that we must learn to coexist together without sabotaging what we’ve accomplished.

via Daily Prompt: Froth

The Pit: Short Story (rough draft)

“It seemed that I heard low, chanting voices, full of hideous yet eager fear -and below that sound, another, filling the bowels of the earth. An hallucination, I doubt it not – but at the same moment, the church was filled with a very real sound, which I can only describe as a huge and macabre turning beneath my feet.

-Stephen King, Jerusalem’s Lot

    My Name seems like as good a place to start as any. I’m Roger ‘Rabbit’ Thompson (I doubt an explanation of the nickname is really required). I’m 66 years old. I am retired and a widower. I never had kids. My parents only had me and even then I was, as they say ‘the product of not pulling out’. I live on a quiet street, in the suburbs of a shit splat town that no one will ever remember. Where I had and still do plan to live out the rest of my life, minding my own business.

I have only a few hours at most to live. It’s not because I’m terminally ill. I am not suicidal. I’m not grieving, my wife died a year before I retired. It’s July, I was born January 6th. I retired that same month from being a postman. So my wife has been gone for two and a half years. I’m not mental. The only reason I know when I will die is because that’s when they told me my house would be swallowed by the earth. I am writing this so people know why Rabbit Thompson chose to go down the Rabbit Hole.

Ever since I retired I’ve started my day in the same monotonous way. At six a.m. with a cup of coffee, black two sugars. Sitting on my porch watching the neighborhood come to life. It’s like a sunflower slowly turning to face the sun. I always felt that everyone’s vibes would affect the people around them. Like the day my neighbors on the right ran over a stray cat backing out of their driveway. I remember the sound it made perfectly, akin to the sound of a lizard eating a mouse. While I’m not sure if my neighbor made it to work on time after spending 10 minutes running around trying to get rid of the cat before anyone saw it. It reminded me of one of those Benny Hill montages where they run around chasing after someone. What I do know is that on that day I dropped a can of soup on my toe, my slipper did nothing to soften the blow. Yet when everything on the block runs smoothly, everything harmonizes. The winds are on time with the percussion who are in tempo with the brass, and the director is almost dancing as he conducts. Although all it takes is one instrument to get out of tune, one overzealous drummer, on conceited trumpet and the rhythm is off for everyone. That’s why I watch every morning, every day. If everything is smooth I could re-shingle the house if I wanted. If something is off I know to avoid anything that could be detrimental to me. It’s a symbiotic ecosystem of vibes and aura. A cosmic milk that at any given moment could spoil. I’m not a hippy but I can’t argue with something I’ve witnessed personally.

The Pit started as just a crack. A crack in the pavement on Tenth street. The crack had been filled multiple times, yet it always came back. I may have been the only one who ever noticed the damned thing, I watched people walk and drive, run and bike, and yet no one seemed to notice. Even the workers that paved over the thing multiple time didn’t seem to notice. I noticed though. It would grow and then shrink. It almost felt like something was growing underneath. The crack had no choice on being something was forcing it. Something willed it to grow. Whatever it was, seemed to be growing too. It seemed like the earth was giving birth. The crack was a stretch mark upon the pavement. Every time the city workers would come fill it, it was like a woman putting some kind of miracle cream on her stretch marks. No matter how hard they tried it wouldn’t work.

That fact that only I noticed it. Made it clear that the crack was here for me. It was biding its time. Patiently waiting for the day it could grow big enough to reach out and swallow me. Devour me along with everything around me. My memories, my hopes, my dreams, my good deeds, my sins, my accomplishments, my failures, my everything. For this reason alone I knew, I belonged to the crack. The crack that would later become the Pit.

The day the crack became more than a crack was a strange day. It was one of those days that had the makings of a beautiful day. Sunshine, a cooling breeze, smiles on the faces of everyone around me. Weather-wise, that day was a wonderful day. A few people on the street, however, would find this day to range from mildly annoying to downright fatal. When I finally got around to grabbing my coffee it was already 30 past six. Which was a bad omen in itself. The day counted on everyone harmonizing, yet I had already started the day late. That was strike one. When I went to the porch and sat down to watch as I always did, everything felt slow. I looked at the crack which now seemed different. I picked the coffee mug up and took a sip, instantly realizing I had forgotten to put sugar in it. That was strike two. That’s when I noticed it. The crack had no dirt. It was hollow underneath. Usually, the crack would form and you could see the dirt that the pavement sat upon. But today for some reason it wasn’t there. At the same time, all of this was running through my mind my neighbors to the right were pulling out of their driveway. It wasn’t until I started setting my mug down that everything clicked. I slammed my mug down, jumping up immediately to yell and wave and find some way to stop my neighbors. By the time I got to my feet, It had all happened. It took my mind what seemed like hours to process what had just happened.

When the neighbors got their front wheels over the crack, everything crumbled underneath them. The pavement gave way under the weight of their luxury car. The pavement crumbled like the pages of an old book. There was no time to do anything, yell or signal nothing. Almost as soon as the car was on the pavement it was gone. The thing that stands out, in the time it took me to comprehend what had just happened. Was that the car never made a sound. There was no impact, no thud or crash. It just fell.

After a few minutes, I finally recovered enough to walk closer to the edge of the newly formed pit. When I looked down all I could see was black. Even with the sunlight directly shining in the hole. The darkness still looked like a pool of swimming black ichor. So dark that nothing could penetrate it. Yet the car didn’t even make a splash. Anyone else would probably look into the pit and think it was filled with oil. I knew all it could be was ichor, black ichor, the blood of the cosmos. At that point, I was sure there was no bottom to this pit. Where it ended or went was beyond me. At that moment though I knew that I would be going there myself. The pit looked similar to a wormhole. It strongly reminded me of the Stephen King book Jerusalem’s Lot. When Charles Boone and Calvin McCann saw the giant worm come up from the hole leaving a pit in the middle of the church surrounded by black slime like ichor. At that point, I could hear in my had a chanting but whether it came from the Pit or my imagination was anyone’s guess. It was calling beckoning. Gyyagin! Gyyagin! Gyyagin! They were calling forth the servant of ‘The Nameless One’. I recalled this from the story. Why I was either imagining this or hearing it for real was beyond me.

From that point on I would sit on my porch and watch as all form of officials investigated the Pit. The Pit at this point stretched from the curb on my front door neighbors side all the way to my mailbox. My mailbox, which I hadn’t noticed in all the commotion the first day was open. That was strike three. The harmony was so off that we didn’t even stand a chance. Once the cosmos stepped up to pitch, we had no idea what hit us. The FBI, Homeland, Geographical personal all of them came and went. They all tried but they never found the bodies. Out of ideas on how to recover the people in the car, they decide to send a crew of spelunkers down. The three guy were suppose to go down and see if they could figure out a way to save the people in the car. I was beside myself at the idea that anyone would willingly descend into the miasma that the pit gave off. A chilling feel surrounded the pit. I was right to feel uneasy about the three spelunkers going down. They only ended up adding to the death toll. Three became six, which would become nine in a matter of hours. That’s when it became all to clear the pit wanted me and it wouldn’t stop till it got me, The pit hadn’t even existed a full 48 hours. Yet it had already devoured nine people. Eight adults and one infant. They chose to create a perimeter around the pit six feet away from it all the way around.

By the next day, my mailbox had fallen into the pit. The perimeter became less of a circle. and more of a horseshoe shape. A man in a suit came to my house and said that I should evacuate my house. I asked if everyone else was being evacuated. To which he said yes, but that I was in more danger than them. According to the suit. The readings they could get of the pit showed a cavern under my house. The cavern was about 60 feet deep and crumbling fast. In less than a week, it would swallow my house whole. I said that I wouldn’t leave. I had no reason to. What he didn’t know was that I was ready to go, to be taken by the pit. He said the pit was growing towards my house at a rate of four feet a day and that if I stayed my house would be gone in less than six days.

From that point on I locked my door, with no intent to ever answer it. They knocked and tried everything to get me out but I refused any advances. I knew that I belonged to ‘Gyyagin!’ and that he would take me to ‘The Nameless One’. I had two dreams over the next four days. The first dream was a first-person view of everything that happened the first few days when the pit first opened up. I could see the crack and my front door neighbors house. I was unable to move and all I could do was watch. I saw the pit swallow the car. I watched as it took the crew of three, saw the other three workers get sucked in, there was no reason they should have died but some force pulled them in, like a vacuum it just drew them into the mouth of the worm. ‘Gyyagin!’. No one had told me how the last three deaths happened yet there they were in my dream clear as day. My view started to get lower and lower till I was looking directly down the pit. I could see the darkness. The pool of ichor. That’s when I realized I was the mailbox, all those years I spent delivering mail and opening everyone’s mailbox and here I was in a dream as a mailbox. Something was swimming in the black ichor. It looked like a worm. A white shadow among the black ichor. Small for now yet it was big enough that it could devour a small infant or even a mailbox with ease. When I finally fell in I was jolted awake at the sight of the worm launching up to eat me. The last sound was the sound of chanting again. It was one quick chant ‘Gyyagin!’. I was awake, covered in sweat with my heart racing.

The next dream was of me eating dinner. The dining room in my house was at the end of the hall my back faced the back wall of the house. Through the doorway, I could see the front of the house, including the porch (even the mailbox had it still been there). The table was set with a candle in the middle, which was the only light source in the house. The light produced by the candle was a sickly yellow, adding to the tenebrous feel of the room. The plate in front of me had held a steak. Next to my plate was a book bound in leather. Engraved on the leather cover was the name ‘De Vermis Mysteriis’. The name, which I knew the translation only from having read the story Jerusalem’s Lot, was Latin for ‘The Mysteries of the Worm’. As I began to eat I noticed the porch had detached from the house and fell into the pit. In my mind, I knew that the pit still had to be patient it would enjoy my house in bite-size chunks before it could ever actually consume me. The front of the house started to develop cracks as the foundation began to be stressed. Boards from the hardwood floors started to snap and splinter. I ate my steak without a word, waiting, enjoy just as ‘Gyyagin’ was doing with my house. The entire front wall came down next. My house now sat at an angle towards the pit. The plate that my steak was on slid down the table. I grabbed the goblet sitting in front of my plate before it had a chance to slide away. It was the wine from my wedding day. I hated wine but for some reason, this wine was sweet, with a slight coppery aftertaste. I drank it till it was gone and then threw the goblet behind me. The table was now gone. Sliding into the void eaten by the Worm. I braced myself as the chair began to slid just as everything else had before it. I slid to the end and the worm, this time bigger, lurched up to meet me. The worm was the size of a school bus. The white color of the worm was almost vibrant among the blackness of the pit.

Those were my dreams. I now only have about three hours before I will be consumed by ‘Gyyagin’. I went into my basement to grab the bottle of wine. When I did the back wall of the basement crumbled and fell. Leaving only a void into the pit. I laughed at the thought that this was the worm trying to consume me earlier then it should. Almost like the cosmos was impatient, unable to control the urge to jump the gun. Waiting for that lapse in rhythm, so it could correct the only way it knew how to. I walked up the stars put the bottle on the table. I got a steak out and turned on the burner. Thinking maybe I should cook the steak before my gas line gets cut by the crumbling foundation. I will stop here so I can finish my dinner. I will leave this story in one of the work vehicles they have left here. No one is around at night, so no one will try to convince me not to stay.

I leave you with this, my last testament, so you know how I went out. I plan to call out to the worm, quoting Stephen King’s Jerusalem’s Lot. I will say to the worm as it opens it’s mouth to consume me ‘Now comes the Hour of Filling, the Time of Rending! Verminis! Alyah! Alyah! Gyyagin!’.

 

We were Luminescent

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From the moment I saw her walk into my class, I knew that she would change my life. I could feel it, I was in love and that was it. A luminescent love that had yet to reach the temperature of incandescence.

Oh what I wouldn’t give to be her everything. I wanted to be the cardigan she wore, loosely fitting but tight enough to feel secure. I wanted to be her glasses, to see the world through her eyes. I wanted to be her phone, something so important that it was always by her side. I wanted to be the book she read before she went to bed, getting all the attention form her. I wanted to be her mirror, to watch her insecurities disappear as she danced and sang in front of me.  I wanted to be her blankets, to cocoon her in a long embrace, trapping her own warmth within and just letting her melt into a vulnerable state.

But most importantly I wanted to be all those things at once, I wanted to be her best friend. The person that could do all those things at once. But I new that I would have to step up my own luminescence, and step out of my comfort zone, A simple gesture would not win her over, it would have to be a triumphant display. I knew I was in for a fight and I was more than ready!

What’s Friends

Friends are a true treasure, a precious resource that we sometimes tend to treat like a commodity. First off the best friends are like diamonds they are forged in the fires of some of the most difficult times in your life. Seeming to literally come into your life when you need them the most. Walking out of the mist to support and encourage you. So through the last few years I’ve learned a few things about true friends.

First don’t abuse your friends. It’s easy to deal with situations where you are uncomfortable or not use to, by unknowingly attacking your friend. Yet it’s these moments that you should take the time to talk to your friends one on one and lay it all out on the table. If you can’t suck it up and be brutally honest with your friends than you should reevaluate your friendship. Truth is, that sounds more like an acquaintance than a friend. Openness is a crucial part of any relationship so don’t avoid it in friendships.

Never be afraid to break down. Your friends are not going to judge you for crying in front of them, (at least they shouldn’t). Let it out, if your having a shitty day or week or months, your friends will understand. Maybe you need a second opinion, or someone to listen, or you need multiple points of views, it doesn’t matter cause they will do what it takes to help you. If all else fails they will at least distract you and help you have some fun for a while.

Make memories! In those moments late at night, (or early morning) you will find that you will be reminiscing on past experience, so making new ones is a must. Don’t matter what you do, even if it’s just getting a cup of coffee, going to the cinema, or hanging at your house. Those times will be the ones to help strengthen your bond. So do stuff together and never be afraid to try new things, cause if there was anyone to do this with it’s them!

Know when to be thick skinned. Jokes are jokes learn to brush it off and move on, but if you really feel that strongly don’t be afraid to say something. When your joking around trying to one up each other someone is bound to take it to far unintentionally, say something or move forward. When you get going sometimes it’s hard to hold back so be ready to apologize if you feel you’ve gone to far.

Do not give up! Don’t give up on your friends, we all deal with certain situations in different ways. If they step away let them, it might be what they need but always be ready for them when they return, that’s when they will need you the most.

I have some of the best friends I could ask for and without them I wouldn’t have made it through half the shit I’ve been through. I would do anything for these Losers and I would be lost without them. I hope that I will be able to return the favor tenfold! They mean more to me than they know. I love them and I can’t wait to see where we end up!

 

The Aliens: Poem

I don’t sleep very well now a day.

I toss and turn, I’m wide awake.

I lay in bed staring at the clock.

Chunks of time I’ve seemed to have lost.

2 am turns to 3:45.

I see them just outta my sight.

In the shadows of the night light.

They are small little humanoids.

I must protect my wife and boys.

What do they want from us right now?

Will they dissect us like a cow?

Can we escape before they do?

Is it to late to fly the coup.

They have us cornered in the room.

My family is in real doom.

I have to protect them some way.

I cannot  let them win today.

I look at my wife she is scared.

My boys are huddled as they stare.

On the floor cause they know its close.

I hug my wife, she grips my clothes.

I push her away with a kiss.

I can’t even imagine what she thinks.

She thought I was crazy before.

Her look,  she doesn’t anymore.

I cannot lose my family.

Not to these things, that’s just not me.

I look through my drawer and find it.

It will save us,  I just can’t miss.

But wait how many are out there.

I count the bullets that are there.

Six, six bullets is all I have.

Now this room feels like a death-trap.

I have to think what can I do?

Maybe this is it, we are through.

My wife, she is holding my kids.

I can’t imagine what they think.

These thing will not take them from me.

Please as if over my dead body.

They will be in the room real soon.

I look at the gun with cold gloom.

I know what has to happen now.

I did it but I don’t know how.

First the youngest then the oldest.

My wife, the last I put to rest.

They wont get them now, it’s over.

I look at my wife, I loved her.

The barrel is warm in my mouth.

I have braced myself for the sound.

I can’t believe this is the end.

Forgive our trespasses, amen.