Commitments

He stood impatiently by the door with his hand on the knob.

“Ava! Are you coming or not?” His irritability could be heard seeping through his voice.

“Just getting my coat on, Lucas. You don’t have to be in such a rush.” Ava said from inside a closet around the corner from the front door.

“I don’t really want to be paying to heat the whole neighborhood, and Yancey is eying the door.”

“That old cat is always eying the door.” She said with extra emphasis on the word always.

Lucas tapped his foot loud enough for the next-door neighbors to hear, as he impatiently stared down the cat. Yancey was a rescue cat. Ava and Lucas had always wanted a larger family, but weren’t quite ready for a large commitment. So they went to the local animal shelter and looked around for a new family member.

The interesting thing about rescue animals, is you don’t so much pick them, as they pick you. One has no idea what criteria each animal has, but they size up each and every soul that comes in looking for companionship and know who deserves theirs, and who doesn’t.

Yancey had obviously has a very full early life. He was missing patches of fur on his right cheek and his left hind quarters. His right ear drooped much like a lop eared rabbit, and his left ear was split down the middle from tip to base. What was left of his fur was a black and grey striped pattern from nose to tail, cropped short against his body.

When Ava and Lucas entered the shelter Yancey was almost entirely upon them. Even despite their protests. They were looking for… well, a more “normal” cat, but Yancey wouldn’t let off them. So in the end, he was the cat that became part of their family. And they ended up being very happy for it, just not until after they hosed him down and gave him a proper bath.

Yancey was folded in a crescent next to an air duct on the floor. One could see his fur tufting in the light wind being expelled from the duct. The cat opened one eye lazily toward the slight opening in the door and curled up more looking to deflect the chill. There was no chance this cat was going to trade the warmth and happiness he had now for an autumn romp.

Why had they decided to do this, Lucas thought, as he felt the bite of cold wind on his skin tight denim jeans. It sounded like such a good idea months ago when they first talked about it, “let’s go out and walk in nature! We can get back to our roots.” I mean on the face it was a great idea. But now he was staring at Yancey and thinking, that warmth of the register did seem pretty nice.

“Do we have to go outside?” Lucas asked, a slight pleading in his voice.

“Yes, yes we do, we’ve been putting this off for months, and it’s time we start doing what we promise each other. Also, I’m already bundled up for this.” Ava said matter of factly.

They exited the house and left Yancey to enjoy the quiet and warmth of the morning.

-V-

Morning Brew

She finally woke up early for once! The sun was not even peaking through her window, but the sky was a brilliant gradient of light yellow to deep orange. She just lay there in bed and let the morning chill from the large window touch her face while the rest of her body was well bundled up underneath the blankets. Too many nights had she gone to sleep well past the sun setting and woken up well into the broad daylight.

She was a firm believer that one should experience as much as possible, but her night time romps had been taking away from her morning escapades and she was working to correct that. Everything in moderation she chanted in her head, something her father had said to her all through her childhood. It was seldom heeded in her adulthood, but she was rounding an age where she felt perhaps it was time to start listening to the wisdom of those who lived before her.

A light click sounded in the distance and the faint burbling sounds of water percolating was carried through the air into her room. Then the scent, the earthy bouquet of steeping coffee entered the room with a bold effort. It perked up her nose and transported her back in time to the days before she lived alone sitting with her mother on the porch on early autumn mornings. With a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, her mother seated to her side on the wooden swing. The light squeak of chains holding the bench to the porch ceiling as they slowly rocked back and forth. Her mother talking about the woes of being married to her father. All tongue in cheek of course, as they had a deep caring relationship that would stand the test of time.

The memory was brief, but enough to help her to push the covers begrudgingly out of her way to exit the bed. A new day had dawned and she was ready to face it. The chill hit her all at once. She was not expecting that, it caused every hair on her body to stand up and try to protect her from the frigid advance on her skin. She snapped up a comfy yellow robe from the floor, it was discarded the previous night hastily trying to get to bed. She wrapped the cold fluffy fabric around her. She knew with a few good shivers the cloth would begin to take her warmth and radiate it back to her.

Around the corner the last few drips of water making their way into the ground coffee basket could be heard. The coffee maker was doing its usual exasperated sigh of steam when the water would run out. This might be the first time in years she had a fresh cup of coffee, she thought. Most days the murky liquid would sit in the carafe for hours while she slept, getting more bitter and intensifying the acidic taste. Not today though, today she was very hopeful for an amazing cup that could warm her all the way through.

-V-

Flight

The engine when from a soft purr to a super loud roar. Mary felt herself pushed back into the seat as she closed her eyes and imagined everything working as expected. She didn’t know why she would close her eyes on every takeoff, perhaps superstition, something her mother told her to do. Or perhaps she did it the first time on a plane and just became second nature now. It had been so long ago the point was lost and she let the thought pass by.

She had the unfortunate position of being in the dreaded middle seat. Years ago this would have never bothered her as she would get a chance to perhaps meet some new people and learn about their lives. Making friends used to be so easy. Now is was so much more difficult, and the pandemic certainly didn’t help things. Everyone was so afraid and tired, and tired of being afraid.

Even the guy sitting to the right of her was still wearing a mask and had a hoodie over his head. He seemed pressed as far up against the window as humanly possible and constantly was staring out the window. She wasn’t sure if he was terrified of flying or absolutely fascinated by it. Years ago she would just ask. But now, it seemed ill advised to even try to start a conversation.

She pulled out her phone and plugged it into the power adaptor in the seat in front of her. The airline had added the ability to watch shows on your phones and tablets using a wireless system on the plane. She thought it was funny that they were still asking people to put their phones in airplane mode, but explicitly allowed connecting to this service, surely it would interfere? Who knows, at least they had some television shows she was interested in watching. Most of the time services like these are filled with shows you’ve never heard of, or the worst of the worst shows you had heard of. She decided to watch a primetime soapy sort of show that didn’t require too much of her attention while she let the flight noises drone on in the background.

The flight attendant pulled up by her row and pushed a yellow bag of pretzels into her lap. It almost felt like the attendant needed to get rid of these bags as quickly as possible, almost like they would have given her ten packs just to be done with them. Next came the drinks question. It occurred to Mary that no matter how short or long a flight they made it a point to offer people ten cent cans of soda to everyone. She was sure the guy to her right was going to avoid all contact, but he seemed to light up and turn to the attendant and ask for a Dr. Pepper. The attendant obliged and he got to the matter of pouring his soda over the ice in a plastic cup that the attendant pass to him.

-V-

Bus

“How do you sleep?”

“Pardon?” She asked, looking up her eyes met the gaze of a smiling young man. He was about five foot eleven, wore pressed deep blue jeans, and a white short sleeve button down shirt. He had a beard, but it was very close cut, it felt like he had just started growing it the week before, but probably in reality had been trimming it for weeks. She inched away from him slightly pressing up against the bus window, not realizing that this might be misconstrued as an invitation to sit. He smiled even bigger and took the opportunity to sit down next to her.

“I said, how do you sleep?” He repeated with more gusto.

“What do you mean, how do I sleep? How does anyone sleep? lying down, I guess,” she said sort of flabbergasted that somebody would have asked such a stupid question. He stared at her with a near blank face, just the hint of a smile; She stared back trying to break his wall, but couldn't even create a crack. Why are there always creepers on the bus, she thought to herself.

“I know how people physically sleep…” he started.

“Oh good, well that’s nice to know.” She interjected, hoping to annoy him enough to leave her alone. She then turned to look out the window.

“But that’s not what I meant,” he continued, completely unfazed by her actions. “I meant, do you dream? How long does it take you to go to sleep? What do you think about? Do you wonder what brings sleep about?”

She had never thought about these questions, and oddly she did find them interesting, like she needed to answer them. Instead she responded, “Do I know you? You’re sort of creeping me out with all these questions. Are you a serial killer?” She took a moment at the last question she asked, “on second thought, I don’t know why I asked that. Every one should answer that last one the same way, and if they don’t I guess that’s a big red flag…”

He looked fixedly at her as she trailed off lamely. He sat in silence as he pondered her question. “No, I’m just on a bus, talking to people, I’m sorry if I offended you or came off as ‘creepy’. But I find life dreadfully boring if we all face forward and never talk to each other. I am sorry I bothered you.” He turned to get up, but she was caught off guard by his statement. Most guys would get angry offended and call her a name. But he seemed genuine, platonic, friendly.

“Wait.” She said to him, “How do you sleep?” He turned back and looked her in the face before choosing his words.

Delightedly he babbled, “I lie there, in bed on my back, staring at the ceiling, motionless. Then I hear music, something my mind constructs, its different every time, but it is always beautiful and amazing. Then I linger on the thoughts of the day, and turn to my side. Every thing goes dark and the dream scape opens for me.”

-V-

Hacker

The sun came up early, at least it felt like it came up early. I suppose it came up at exactly the time it thought was right. It was just early for me. I had a very late night the previous night. Most of my nights are late. I’m a hacker, through and through. A lot of people seem to get scared or confused when they hear the title hacker. They ask questions like, “Have you ever gained access to secret things?” Or “How do I protect my data from people like you?” The truth is people seriously misunderstand what the name means.

Hackers are not people after your data, or necessarily evil in any stretch of the imagination. We are just enthusiasts. We love technology and all the applications that entails. Sure there are people out there who choose to use this knowledge for nefarious purposes, which just led to us claiming a sub genera of hackers, the Black hats and the White hats. As one would expect the white hats are the “good” guys and the black hats are the “bad” guys. Really though we all sit in many different shades among those distinctions. A true white hat would never do anything interesting, and a true black hat would have no motives beyond watching the world burn (there are some of these, but like any field the outliers are few and far between).

As a hacker, I found that my best time, the time where I have the most brain power to exert is in the wee hours of the night, where the world is mostly quiet. No distractions around, where I can just listen to repetitive music and tinker away at the technology in front of me.

Last night had been a particularly interesting night where I found what I believed to be a massive security hole in a common piece of code. My mind was blown as I tried millions of iterative attacks at the software, seeing if I could in fact break through it. I mean you have to understand how to break something if you really want to know how to fix it. Hours of watching the screen produce output I couldn’t possibly go through in my lifetime, I was just searching for large inaccuracies. It was a strange sense of excitement, waiting for the results of the attack on the code to run.

I was both hoping I had in fact found something, and at the same time dreading it. You see, if I had, in fact, found a security hole, I would want to also try and find a good way to shore it up, and have that available with the announcement of the potential breach, like I said, I’m not a black hat. I guess the sun felt like it was early because the night had led to nothing. Turns out I misread the lines I was looking at and spent the entire night all for naught, or perhaps not, in the end I was more sure that the security was good. I guess that counts enough to get a good days sleep.

-V-

Courtroom

They sat there in silence, everyone facing the north. Most of them had no idea which direction north was or why they were facing that way. The reason had long since been lost. The room was mostly empty, save for the five people currently occupying it. two seated at one table, and two at another with one person standing close to a door in the room. The entire room was finished in a light mahogany, ceiling to floor. It was as if these people had walked inside a tree, but along the walls were hundreds of cameras, aimed in various angles at the people seated in the room. There was no feeling of privacy in there.

The standing man quickly moved his hand to his ear, nodded and started speaking, “Rise, the honorable and venerable authority represented by Magistrate Adla shall now be processed.” Everyone in the room quickly got to their feet as if there were a race to see who could get there first. The slowest to her feet was slightly hunched over and obviously sleep deprived. Adla entered and swiftly got behind a raised desk, grabbed a wooden gavel and rapped it lightly on block of wood.

“Sit.” Adla commanded lightly, but with authority. Everyone in the room complied. “Emmi Wryhta, rise. You stand accused by the court.”

Emmi stood up and let her gaze flow freely over the room. Not a single person in attendance. No one came to the courts anymore, not after the last time when everyone in the room was thrown in jail for muttering disagreement, no, now they all stay home and watch on the Court Network, 400 channels of live decisions, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, “Judgement for the people.” What a tag line, she thought.

Emmi sunk deeper into her our thought as the words coming out of Adla’s mouth drifted by her. She found herself fixated on a camera right in front of her. She wondered how people could just sit there and watch, hour after hour, of meaningless charges thrown on people nowadays. She recalled watching once, only for a few minutes when the charges read against a twelve year old boy, “Wearing a head covering in public without the requisite cancer patch so people wouldn’t panic.” It was disgusting, it even made her ill just thinking about it now. She wondered if her face was paling or getting a green tinge to it, would people notice?

“How do you plead?” The words brought her back to the situation right in front of her, standing in a court room. How did she plead? Most people did it on their hands and knees, but not Emmi. This just made her want to scream, at the top of her lungs, “Why?” She didn’t want to plead, she just wanted this to be over. To be done. Instead Emmi just stood there as her console raised next to her. Something clicked inside of her, she put a hand on them and stopped them from getting up.

-V-

Motel

The sun found the one crack in the blinds and inched it’s way up my body until it sat firmly on my eyelids. It’s the worst time to open your eyes in the morning, the piercing light like a launched spear straight from Apollo's hand into my retina. The sound of a sickly air conditioner is sputtering nearby, I was sure I had set it to “more cold” last night before I packed up and lay my head down. It was sounding like it had solidly landed on “barely alive with a slight chill.”

Motel rooms always felt like the necessary evil of my job. I’m a private detective, but not a highfalutin one that goes out and checks up on the rich and fancy. Nope, I handle real people with real questions they have no other way of finding out or solving. I have noticed there aren’t many detectives for the rich and greedy. I personally think it’s due to the fact that most well-to-do people just assume the worst of people and that they are in fact doing whatever it is they would hire me to find out. Sort of like an unspoken bond between them all, I don’t want anyone to know what I’m doing, so if you don’t go looking, I won’t go looking into your affairs. It’s the only thing that made sense to me anyways.

A repeating plunk sound from the sink pulled me out of my thoughts and back into the room. One would think that they would fix that, water can be expensive, but then again they hadn’t fixed the air conditioner, so why start now? It was a standard room with two small beds in it. A carpet that had long ago had a royal pattern on it, but now mostly boasted a thread bare pacing pattern in the room of where most people slowly lost their minds. There was a television in the room, but it basically gave you three scratchy channels and the audio kept cycling from too loud to near mumbled sounds at random intervals.

The door looked like it had been pried open, more than three times. Which made me wonder how many were the management trying to get in, and how many were “other” people trying to get in. Neither option made me feel any better, but most Motels were like this. They always felt like the toy that one abused as a kid, something you could just throw against the wall when you didn’t know what else to do.

The pièce de résistance of the room lay in the door in the back past the sink leading to the bathroom. I wonder sometimes if housekeeping cleans the rooms in these places, I never wonder about the bathroom. I swear they just run in, take the towels and used soap, if you get any soap that is, and throw new towels in. Most of them are more terrifying than horror movies. It’s a wonder there aren’t more horror movies set in motel bathrooms.

-V-

The Clearing

I stood in the center of the clearing, deep in the forest. This was my place, a place where only the creatures of nature and I knew about. It lay a short walk from my back door through the woods. The trick was crossing the stream back there. There was a log you could cross, but it was hidden in a cove that was most likely created by beavers. To either side of the cavern was a branch and bramble wall, no way to forge over it. but if you looked real close you would find a small section of branches tied together with makeshift tree bark rope.

Once pulled aside you could crawl under the catch weed into a small space with the large timber to cross over the water. The space here was not mine, and I knew it. It was modified so I could pass, but there was always a sense of eyes upon you. I never felt in danger, but I knew that I was only welcome as a passer by and not invited to stay for any length of time.

Beyond the crossing there were a few love paths well trodden in the forest floor. They seemed ancient and terribly unkempt. I had once spent some time trying to map them out, but quickly became bored with the prospect of where they led when I had found the clearing.

I had affectionately come to call it the glade. It was about forty paces in diameter and near perfectly round. The edges seemed to understand that they needed to maintain the circle. The foliage was emerald green, not a section of earth could be seen, thick and lush. A short grass about ankle high grew all over. It was as if it had decided that it was at the perfect height and stopped.

The trees encircling the space almost formed a perfect privacy fence. From everywhere outside of the clearing one would have no idea it existed. It was as if nature herself decided that this place was to be kept hidden from most, I would say all, but I had been given the privilege of locating the space.

In the summer I could lay in the open space for hours and just think about the universe around me. It was quite an inspiring place to be. Light breezes would light over the trees and swoop down into the center and keep one at the perfect temperature, also creating a soothing sound, a music all it’s own, in your ears.

Sometimes a squirrel would play along the edge of the clearing searching for supplies for the upcoming winter, mostly they kept to themselves, but if I brought snacks with me, they were certainly happy to share. Sometimes they would dance along the edge of the green, a complex series of movements around each other, elegant and otherworldly I could watch their movements losing complete track of time. When the shade would hit the center of the patch I knew it was time to head home.

-V-

Branch

The television was blaring, bright colors were quickly crossing the screen. One would think it would be distracting, but she just stared out the window at the one lazy branch she could see from the couch. I moved slowly in the wind, nothing particularly interesting about it. The branch looked too weak to even support a birds nest. It was fairly gnarled, and had four leaves randomly placed along it. The seemed to be fainting in the heat, slowly dancing to make sure they were still living. The movement was entrancing to her though. She couldn’t pull her attention anywhere else in the room. Even with that television, she had no idea why she bothered turning it on anymore.

Perhaps it was just a ritual; after class: walk home, kick off shoes, turn on television, sit on couch, stare out window. How long had she been doing this? She’d be to bed before her mother got back from her second shift job, and out the door before mom would even be awake for the day. Kids dream of independence, but if this is what that meant, it was more like purgatory. Wash, rinse, repeat. Every day the same series of events. The uniform they made her wear didn’t help either, it just added to the monotony of the entire experience.

She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice the lull in the sounds from the television and the creaking sound of someone ascending the rusted metal staircase leading to their tiny apartment. The light sounds of an old key slowly fitting into a lock. The door lethargically opened shining a strong beam of sunlight on her foot that grew up her leg and rested on her hands in her lap. The heat from the sun finally drew her attention to the door.

A man stood there, dark long hair matted down underneath a check patterned flat cap. He had a full beard, not terribly well groomed. His eyes were alight with a fire and a deep soulful fear. Part of her brain screamed, another part tried to sooth her. She knew this person on some deep corporal level. Her body trusted the part that was calming her.

She sat in place and just stared. Showing what she hoped was an expectant look on her face to the newcomer. He motioned as if he were about to speak, but just fell to the floor in a heap instead. Her mind screamed to her, “protect.” With decisive movements she was up and walking over to him. She leveraged herself under him and hoisted him onto her back. He was much lighter than she expected. It could have been the adrenaline, but even accounting for that he was certainly light.

She dragged the unconscious body into the well aged bathroom and rolled him over into the bath. Her sense of smell came slamming back to her, as the all the previous moments actions didn’t seem to need it. A world of scents her upon her, so many she had no way to describe, and one subtle light scent under the rest. One she knew, and could not place, but it was there.

-V-

Night Light

My eyes open to the random flittering of a broken street lamp outside my apartment. I tried to sleep past it, but its constant flickering was flashing red and black against my eyelids and sleep was not forthcoming. I needed to tire myself out, so I pulled on some socks and my running shoes, snagged my hoodie to throw over my bare skin, and dropped my keys into my pajama pants.

The door creaked to a close under my hand. I pulled out my keys and locked the door. The night air was damp and cloying, a whispery tendril of air tickled the back of my neck. I swung around prepared for anything, but found the street empty. The lights along the street were forcing the leafless trees to hunch ominously in the shadows.

I turned and walked into the street. Nothing was stirring around me, like I was alone in a vacuum. At least that’s how it felt in the relative safety of the street lights. In the shadows just beyond I could barely make out a mass of movements, much like an orchestra preparing to play.

A scream was carried on the wind. I squinted into the distance but couldn’t make out a thing. Caution winning out I walked with a steady pace towards the sound. Why as humans do we walk toward sounds of danger? I mean I know I was doing it, but in the back of my head a voice was letting me know that this was just plain silly. Was I going to beat off an attacker with my pajama pants? No. There was little I could do anyways, so perhaps I was just being a voyeur. After pushing my way through multiple umbras I found myself in a lighted patch of pavement. A girl sitting hunched over her legs.

“Hello,” I ventured, but she didn’t even attempt to acknowledge me. “Do you need some assistance?” I tried again, immediately realizing how lame it came out of my mouth. I didn’t really want to help her. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. I looked around and found no one to be watching. She seemed alive enough, right? She’d be fine. I melted into the shadows and found myself back in another pool of light, much less distressed with people who clearly looked hurt.

With each light I passed under heading back to my home I felt less and less upset with myself. The situation was surreal, did it even really happen? I’m not so sure anymore. I mean, it could have just as easily been an owl hooting loudly, and the might have been a fallen branch of a tree that looked like a person in the shadows.

Back on my door step I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door. It shifted open with it’s usual creaks and strains. What a night I thought to myself, as I put my head down for the night. I didn’t even notice the flickering light outside anymore.

-V-

Mongrel

I sat in a park bench by the river. I felt like nearly every other day I would do this, but today was different. Today was the first day of spring. I don’t know how the powers that be decide these things. The first day of spring, the last day of summer, I mean I know it supposedly has something to do with the solstice and length of days. But the first day of spring never feels like the first day. It’s always either way before, or way after. I can’t remember a single time it was on the same day in my life. How strange is that?

A ravenous beast of a mutt came stalking up to me. He grunted once and nosed down between my legs. It seems in my musing I didn’t notice that a torn and tattered tennis ball found it way beneath me. I leaned forward and found the mongrel was examining my every movement with delicate precision. Not a single sound around him even tweaked the slightest part of his ear.

Fearing what would happen if I broke eye contact I fumbled around the ground for the ball. Dread filled me as I must have stumbled too far away from the dog’s prize with my searching hand, he emitted a deep belly growl that sunk deep into my mind and reversed the movement of my arm quickly.

My fingers flittered on the ball and I quickly spun my hand around and gripped the ball. Pulling it up I found the dog was fixed on it like a magic orb. I slowly shifted it back and forth in front of him. He tracked each and every movement. I decided I was already playing with enough fire and threw the ball in an impressive arc into the distance.

Without delay he was kicking up plods of soil in pursuit. Every muscle in his body was pulsing with an energy and fervor I will swear to this day I have never seen again. His tongue swung wildly from his mouth as I’m sure he was heaving in every last bit of usable air around him to speed his body.

I suddenly felt a great fear as I tracked his progress and noticed a child coloring with chalk on the paved path in front of him, completely oblivious to the massive bulk advancing towards him at break neck speed. I cringed and held my hands over my eyes listening intently for a juvenile scream to fill the air. But no such sound was emitted. I looked up quickly and found the mongrel a clear two feet above the babe legs fully extended passing over him with no notice given by the would be victim.

I had nearly forgotten that the ball had since disappeared into the tree line. Good riddance I thought at the dog was finally out of view. I looked back out on the river and felt myself being culled back into my previous thoughts. Then I heard it, a plonk and a growl. Down at my feet lay the ball and just beyond it the animal with it’s head slightly tilted.

-V-

Stars

“Daddy, tell me another story!” Billy exclaimed bouncing up and down on his bed. Norris sighed, Billy had been pulling this tactic on him for the past two weeks now. He felt like he was running out of clever ideas, and nothing in his head was striking him as particularly interesting.

He stared off into the clear night sky. The stars twinkled bright as if they had something to prove. Norris felt vindicated in his choice to move out to the country. His wife had complained non-stop about the inconveniences of being so far away from everything. But, his front door was unlocked and all his windows were open. He had no fear of intruders or idiots trying to bust into his house and, well, be idiots. City life was good for them, but the breeze pulsing through his house was invigorating. They were miles from their nearest neighbor and the property was so inexpensive.

“Daddy!” Billy cried out, his eyes pleading desperately for more imagery. This snapped Norris away from his reverie.

“Of course Billy,” he started, and then gave the same disclaimer he had been touting for the past fortnight once more, “but this is the last night we get to have a second story. You need your sleep.”

“Yay!” Billy was positively bursting with excitement. Norris shot him a stern glance. Billy snuggled down into his undersized bed. Norris pulled the comforter at the base of the bed and tucked it all around Billy giving a very slim chance of escape, or any movement for that matter.

“Tonight Billy I will tell you the story of the blind stargazer.”

“What’s a Stargazer?”

“A person who looks up at the stars and uses what they see to determine future events.”

“But if he is blind how can he see the stars?” Billy said thoughtfully. Norris was used to this type of questioning from his son. He encouraged it. He felt to many people his age had stopped questioning in general. That they just got as much information as the could glean from what was around them and assumed the rest without really trying to understand anything, or even worse, blindly believing what other people told them, even if it made little to no sense whatsoever. He would not raise a son who ended up like that. That would be his mark on society, or at least bringing up a more sophisticated next generation. He could really only hope at this point.

“An excellent question Billy. You see he didn’t need sight as we know it. He felt the stars in the universe. He knew exactly where each one was at any given time. No one was sure how he did it, or how he even knew in the first place, but sure as the day is long if you asked where a particular star was he would be able to point directly to it.”

“That sounds fascinating!” Billy yawned.

“It is Billy. This world is infinite and there are so many different ways that people can be. It’s just one big wonderful place filled with…” Norris looked down and saw that Billy was fast asleep. His job done for the night he crept out of the room turning off the lights as he went. As he closed the door behind him the story he was building up in his mind evaporated into the aether. It was a long night and he felt sleep pulling at himself as well. He wondered down to his room and was asleep within seconds of his head brushing his pillow.

-V-

Start Over

I found myself driving mindlessly. The road in front of me, meaningless. The road behind a fading and forgotten memory, like an elusive fly. I tried to figure out where I had been for the past few months, but every grasp at the past ended in a thick fog in my mind. Snow flurries we in the sky now; slowly dropping in the distance and whipping by my car as I approached them. In the rear view mirror I could seem them settling back on their path to the ground as if I had never been there.

The cityscape seemed so far behind me now, nothing but fields around. I swear I was just immersed in tall buildings, making fast sharp turns. Feeling the extra gravity press me back into my seat. The excitement imprinted on me like a kiss from a long lost loved one, felt forevermore. But now, there were no curves, nothing to add to the feeling of movement. The world was passing around me at what felt like a snails pace.

The sun glinted and blinded me from something on the horizon. My mind raced around all the possibilities of the cause. A companion for my ride? A bridge to a new land? A town? The drive to the object seemed to last forever. And, alas I was broken to learn it was a simple sign posted on the side of the road. It read, “10 smi to Forgict.” I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this. The sign was a cool metal, but the text on it looked hand written, it was sort of elegant and sloppy at the same time, if that’s even possible.

I looked down at the gages in my car, it seemed this was the first time they had any meaning. The fuel gage was strangely dropping fast to ‘E’. Something was pulling me towards this place. Who am I to go against a greater plan? On top of that, what else could I do? I drove on.

As I crossed into the town the snow abruptly stopped. It almost looked like summer outside of my windows. I chanced it and lowered the driver’s side. A blast of fresh warm air slapped across my face. It forced it way up my nose and pressed on directly into the back of my mind. Wildflowers and clouds were the only thing I could focus on for that moment. I drove right into the center of the town and found myself stopped in front of a statute of a beautiful women with expansive wings extended behind her.

Compelled I exited the car and walked up to the sculpture. Her hands were above her holding a sword that seemed to be engulfed in flames. I locked eyes with hers, and in that brief juncture the sword burst into real flames. Her face broke free of the stone; I could see tears streaming down her face. And then she brought the sword down.

-V-

Crust

And then I awoke, my breath pounding back into my body. I hurled my torso into the air away from my bed; my head flowing behind like a rag doll’s. Something was very familiar about this. I couldn’t open my right eye, it was crusted over with something. I brought my hand to my face and picked at my eye. Some flakes of dried blood lay sitting in my hand as I inspected it with my good eye. What in gods name had I gotten into last night?

I tried standing up, but my entire body was incredibly sore. With great strength of will I was able to pull myself to my feet. My room was a mess. Clothes everywhere, all dirty. I was wearing an old pair of blue jeans and a black tee shirt. I found a glass of water and some aspirin sitting on my bed stand. I didn’t realize how much my head was pounding until I saw them. I downed three pills and took a large swig of water. It felt so refreshing, but it was only a tiny drop into the abyss of my pain.

I figured I needed to clean up, then I would get to figuring out what happened to me. I pulled a new pair of jeans off the floor and grabbed the cleanest, least smelly black tee I could find. With every muscle protesting I drug my body into the bathroom. It was surprisingly clean, much cleaner than I had ever left it before.

I turned on the water in the shower and waited till I could see steam rising from behind the curtain. My first step under the spigot was bittersweet. The pain from the heat burnt deep, but it also started soothing my defeated muscles, melting them like butter in a hot pan under my skin. I looked down and saw a stream of red turn into a pool. How much blood had I lost?

Eventually I obtained free movement in all my limbs and started the long process of cleaning my body properly. The soapy loofah gently removing the most entrenched bits of blood and scabs from my skin. All the weight from my injuries felt cleansed from my body.

I turned off the water and reached for my towel, blue fluffy Egyptian cotton, and began the slow process of drying myself. Fully dry I stepped out in front of the mirror. With both eyes working now I could finally assess myself. Not terribly beaten up, few bruises around my abdomen. A small insignificant cut above my newly opened eye. It seemed it was mostly superficial damage.

I pulled on my clothes and ran a brush through my hair. Everything seemed in order. I turned to head out of the bathroom and slipped on a small puddle of water by the sink slamming my head into the toilet seat. And then I awoke, my breath pounding back into my body. I hurled my torso into the air away from my bed; my head flowing behind like a rag doll’s.

-V-

Fireflies (Part 3)

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I worked my way up to the bell tower. All modern in design and nestled between the chapels, this was the common meeting ground of the western block of souls. I didn’t know many of the people on this side, they were so modern in dress and thoughts I tended not to be able to have terribly good conversation with them, but there was one who I knew I could talk with endlessly.

Jenny always spent the early night in the garden by the bell tower and would make her rounds of the cemetery regularly. I believe she described herself as a social butterfly once, it fit perfectly. As expected she drifted through the gardens humming a tune quietly to herself I had never heard before.

“Jenny!” I called out.

She turned to me with a large grin on her face. She was watching over some young souls that were playing in the gardens. It’s not like anything could happen to them now, but we don’t let go of certain traits too easily. I think it’s inherent in all of us to watch over children, even if they aren’t ours. Parental instinct if you will.

“Eustice!” She called back to me, “it’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

“Well time seems relative here. You know that.” She nodded knowingly.

“What brings you to this side of the cemetery?” She asked with enthusiasm.

“There seems to be a new presence around, do you feel it?” I asked.

“Oh… That… Yeah. They are over there.” She said pointing to the north. Her lack of energy in this response intrigued me more than I would have expected. Deeply interested I started moving in the direction she had pointed.

“Oh I see, not really interesting in talking.” She called sardonically after me, sticking her tongue out.

“You know me, adventure awaits!” I called back over my shoulder as I waved a hand in the air. I could feel her making more faces at me behind my back as I continued on.

I came upon two people, real living people, sitting next to a grave with candles strewn about. The candles cast an eerie glow on their forms. They were shrouded head to toe in black rag like outfits. I could barely make out one mumbling something into the night. The other was humming tunelessly. The first one then started to speak out loud.

“Forgotten souls, hear my call. My name is Alice, I’m here to hear you and help. Please do not be afraid. Speak to me.” Alice said with determination.

I nearly fell over from laughing so hard. Every once in a while people do this. Try and ‘contact’ the spirits. My favorite part was the ‘do not be afraid’ as if they could do anything to us. We are dead. Not much else one can do.

“Oh great Alice, I’m here.” I said snickering. Living people can’t hear or see us, so I was taken aback when she turned right to me and stared in my direction.

-V-

Goodbye

She stood in the doorway, lips quivering slightly. The sunlight was sneaking through the open frame silently stealing a kiss on her cheek. I’d seen this scene so many times in my head before, but this time it was real, and there was no changing it. She wore a summer dress I had bought for her last year. It was a deep azure blue, which set her eyes ablaze. The cut accented every part of her body in just the right ways. She held one hand on the doorknob and the other resting gently on the doorframe.

A breeze lapped against her hair, pushing and pulling the blonde locks like waves crashing on a beach. Every once in a while a blink of her tiny perfect ears would slip into view and quickly disappear again. In a single moment I thought of all the good times we shared. Beaches and camping, traveling to far away places, blindly meandering around new and exciting villages, spending time doing nothing at all, watching television and movies, having picnics, daydreaming. She exhaled slowly.

I returned my gaze to her face. It was composed of a strong sense of sadness and stern detachment. She wasn’t looking at me per se, but more through me. I could feel it. It was unnerving. We felt stuck in a moment. I have no idea how long it lasted, but it was broken by the sun finally finding some refuge behind a lone cloud playing in the sky. Her lips parted slightly.

“Well?” It emanated from her lips with shocking indifference. I looked into her eyes and found them considering me in a way I had never seen before. I felt lost.

“Well, what?” I replied, not sure what to say anymore. I decided my best plan of action was to get as much information as possible.

“What do you mean, ‘well, what?’” She retaliated with fire, “don’t you have anything to say? Anything at all?”

“What can I say?” I thought out loud. She rolled her eyes to this answer.

Then it all hit me in a wave. The other half of our story, the nightmare nights of pain and sorrow, the agony we had put each other through, the fights, the scrutiny, the derision and ridicule. We were not good for each other at all and we both knew it. But what was left at this point? She stood there in silence, waiting.

“Well the way I figure it, there really is only three words I can say anymore.” I was making my gambit.

“Three words, eh?” She said sarcastically, “this ought to be good.” I wasn’t entirely sure what she was expecting, but a fire was building inside of me. I took her hand from the doorknob and placed it gently in mine and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I don’t care.” I said it softly but with plied earnestness. In the briefest moment I watched her jaw drop a little as she turned and rushed through the doorway. When there is no winning, no going back, you may as well go for mutually assured destruction.

-V-

A Word

I wrote a word. Just one. On a stone and threw it into the ocean. It was my word. It was what would save me. I hope someday someone finds that word and brings it to me. The word is the beginning of my song.

I wrote a song. Just one. On a guitar and threw it into the sky. It was my song. It could tame beasts and free minds. It flitters on the wind and lurks in our minds. It is the song of nature, of humanity, of dreams and dreamers. It binds us, defines us, plays in our hearts and lives beyond us. It is as glorious as a sunrise, somber as a black night. It is as pompous as I am.

I wrote a story. Many, in fact. And put them in the universe. They were mostly my stories, all from my imagination and my life. Some for people in particular, most for anyone to find what they needed. The universe gives people what they need, but it also needs people to be the attendants of its many messages. Each one of us bears this role at different times. We are seldom aware. Perhaps this is my role and time to tell people this is the case.

Sometimes you write what is in the moment in your head. It doesn’t make any sense. Your muse guiding your pen on the page, scripting the words that have need of being there. Even as I write these, I have no idea what their purpose is. But I know it’s needed. I feel that I’m writing this to get across the idea of how, or why I must write. But even that is just a guess, I really have no idea for sure.

I sit in front of my canary-yellow legal pad, pen poised, each symbol placed on the paper in a rushed motion. Missed letters. Misspelled words. Later, I will go back and edit, but the need to get the idea out overtakes my will to be correct and complete. These ideas you are reading, a stream of thoughts from my mind to be placed in your mind. The funny thing is, you are probably reading this in a voice in your head that isn’t your own. Do you know me? Is it in my voice? Or in a voice you think is mine?

As I write I tend to think of each syllable, each pause, each accent, and each run. Do I want you to feel stuttered reading short quick sentences? Is this pause, here, meant to feel like a kiss on the lips from a long lost lover? The idea that I can pass on dreams and emotions through nothing more that a few simple words is both the most beautiful thing I can think of and at the same time terrifying. One word even holds this power. And it can be any word you think of, nonsensical and new, sonorous and simple, or jagged and complex. What is your word?

-V-

Arrival (Part 7)

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“Beyond here, you’ll find the kitchen and the bathroom. Rent will be due on the first of every month and includes all the utilities… Green?” She poked me rather hard in the stomach with her cane.

“Yes?” I questioned, being brought back into the conversation rather abruptly. “Oh, I’ll just pay you cash now for the whole remainder of the lease, if you don’t mind?”

“Mind?” She said surprised. “I don’t mind getting a whole lot of cash all at once. Who would? I suspect I’ll be minding in a few months once I’ve spent it all, but now? It’d be just fine by me.”

I handed her an envelope with what Howard had told me would be the remainder of the lease. She snatched it, ripped it open, and started thumbing through the bills. This sort of behavior has never bothered me. It’s important to be sure you are not being swindled or short changed. Once satisfied that I had indeed given her the correct amount, She grinned ruefully.

“Well seems eveythin’s in order here. The keys to the place are on the nightstand in the bedroom. I left a note with my phone number on it. Call anytime day or night if you need anything. I suspect it’s hard showing up in a new city not knowing anyone. But you look a cunning type. I bet you’ll find your feet faster than you know it. I imagine you’ll want to get settled in and find some grub. I’d suggest the Verdé Mart just up the street in the Quarter. They make a wonderful Po-boy. Something to put some meat on your skinny bones.” She gave a wry smile at this last statement.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Flemming…”

“Johanna, dear.” She interjected.

“Sorry, Johanna. It’s been a pleasure.” I smiled.

“Oh, the pleasures all mine.” She said as she clutched the envelope. “Just make sure you don’t go round getting the police all up in here. I don’t like having to deal with them much.”

“I’ll be sure to keep my nose clean. Good day Johanna.”

“Good day Green.” She ambled out of the door and shut it gently behind herself.

I walked over to the door and bolted the lock. It was finally time to decompress. I deposited my bag on the table by the reading chair and slumped into it. This chair was brilliant. Whoever had crafted it was pure genius. Or perhaps it was the decades that people’s bodies had carved out the perfect feeling for sitting on a hot summer day to read or nap. I looked out the window by the chair, there was a blue house next door, but above that I could see the sky with a few lazy clouds hanging around. For one brief moment everything felt just right.

My bag slipped off the table and spewed onto the floor the four stories I had received at this point. I was sure before I left to set up a mail forward for the new ones, since whoever V was, they obviously weren’t getting them, or possibly would appreciate them the way that I was.

-V-

Arrival (Part 6)

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You could see that perhaps she had been a very beautiful youth, but the years had not been kind to her at all. She was at least reasonably thin. Not overweight, but not winning any skinny contests either. She wore a simple pink dress with green paisleys, with a white knit shawl over it. She looked up from her hand on the door to me. I was immediately sucked into her eyes. They were a vibrant hazel, with patched of milky white here and there. It was like looking pictures of galaxies I had seen in science books many years ago.

“Who’re you?” She asked producing a gnarled cane from her side in a offensive pose.

“I’m Green, Sheldon Green. Howard set up the sublet for this place for me. I believe you are Mrs. Flemming?”

“Oh! Well come on in deary. Yes, yes, I’m Mrs. Johanna Flemming.” The cane disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. “Can’t be too careful nowadays. Neighborhood ain’t what it used to be. Then again nothing is these days. Not even me. I wake up every morn with the aches in my bones so bad, I don’t much mind getting out of bed. But that’s age for you. And it’s been so hard since Jim passed these five years ago.” To this she clutched a locket around her neck and gave it a little kiss. “He left me alone and with all these properties to take car of. I ‘spose he left me something to keep busy with. Mr. Green you say?”

“Well most people just call me Green. No salutatories necessary for me.” To this she stopped and turned to me. Her eyes narrowed, and she examined me from head to toe. It felt like she was looking into my soul. Weighing each and every part of me. It was an uncomfortable few moments. Finally she smiled and continued into the house.

“Don’t know much about no salute-a-stories here. Nothing but good ole fashioned hospitality. If it’s Green you say, then Green it is. I think you’ll like it here. Most people do. It’s mostly quiet, and everyone generally keeps to themselves.”

I was barely listening to her. I was astounded by the architecture of the home. Vaulted ceilings, they had to be around sixteen feet high. Beautifully sculpted crown molding adorned the painted tin ceiling. There was a slight musty smell in the house, as if it had been lived in for a long time and barely ever got aired out. Hardwood floors beneath my feet creaked with each step. Light slowly filtered through the shuttered windows and dust slowly played in the beams of sunlight. In the corner was a cozy old armchair, threadbare. You could see that many a great story had been read in that chair. Next to it was a simple coffee table, the current newspaper sitting atop it, pristinely folded. I followed her back into the next room. This seemed to be the bedroom, there was a single bed with a nightstand next to it. Not much else to speak of, no wall hangings or anything.

-V-

Read Part 7

Arrival (Part 5)

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“When I used to skip school we would walk the river front, cause it’s shorter. It don’t seem it, but you walk that river front all the way to Canal street it’s shorter than going up St Claude or something. You know? And we played ball and everything. Almost every Monday in football season we’d skip and go downtown. Just a bunch of stupid asses, I guess that’s what we were, really. You know? But uh, that’s how it was, you know? Did I tell you when I was a kid, son, trust me. We grew up poor. I mean dirt poor. Seven cents streetcar fare and you got four transfers with it for the seven cents. And that’s a fact. It was sevens cents for many many many years. Man, I could tell you stories. You know? And you say, ‘old man, he’s lying,’ and I’m not lying. I don’t have no reason to lie. You know? It’s the truth. Sometimes I can’t believe it. I tell my kids, they laugh at me.

“Ah, here we are. 2400 block of Royal. That’ll be 50 dollars.”

The trip had been so entertaining; I decided to give this old man a 100 dollar note. He started to get some change out. “Keep it, you seem to be a good man.”

“You sure? I mean, I’ll take it, but you know?”

“Absolutely, It was worth a bit of good company.”

“Alright, well you enjoy the city. If you need any more rides you go ahead and call me up.” He said handing me a business card; I took it, got out and closed the door. He drove off slowly.

As I exited the car, the air hit me like a wall of dank misery. It was unseasonably hot, well for what I would consider the season. I was a born and raised northerner, where seasons were always mild, except for the few freak occurrences. Winters that were extra cold and snow filled, summers that were so hot you could cook an egg on the sidewalk. But here, it felt like it was hot all the time, hot and humid.

I looked around me for the first time. Really looked. This city was amazing. It was all falling apart and decaying, but every house had a decently new coat of amazing vibrant paint. Not the traditional house colors you’d see in any other suburb or city, with their drab browns, grays, whites, and the occasional powder blue, or light yellow. No, here every house was a mixture of colors that would excite you. Purple with bright yellow shudders, greens, pinks, reds, and every other color under the sun. It had a certain whimsical feeling about it.

I walked up to the address that Howard had given me and knocked on the door. I had no idea what to expect. I wasn’t sure or not if Howard had already left, and what arrangements he had made for my arrival. An aged black woman opened the door. She stood much shorter than me, but perhaps that was just her age, years of gravity and life pulling her down. Her face was a mass of lines that went in every direction.

-V-

Read Part 6