Category: Short Stories (Page 40 of 46)

October 16, 2012 #1

October 16, 2012 / Tom

Part of this transformation has been experiencing how much I love being around people. People who make me laugh. People who enjoy me. People who can take a joke and give one back. People who search for peace. People who aren’t so busy judging that they can actually sit down and laugh with me and I with them.

Enjoying this fucking place isn’t just about being out in the woods or challenging yourself, it’s about letting those in who want to be there and having fun. It isn’t about fixing each other, none of us is broken. It’s about recognizing just how wonderful we can be for each other and fulfilling that potential. It’s about making breakfast after having an all-nighter with your lover. It’s about finding your woman’s ticklish spots and KISSING them. It’s about ecstasy, loving and being loved. It’s about being a friend and receiving friendship.

So, if your choice is not to love me or be with me, then your choice must be to journey somewhere else. I have people who do that I want to spend time with.

I don’t need you to fix me, I simply need you there belaying the rope so that as I climb this mountain I can count on you to break my fall should I slip. I would do the same for you. You are free to choose your path, choose your footholds and handholds, and I will be there to break your fall should you slip. You will not hit the ground when I’m there .

So, if your choice is to walk away from me or “fix” me, I’d ask you to choose another subject. If your choice is to take turns belaying each other I’d say you found your man. I’ll let you know if I choose not to do the job.Make your choices and own them. (See, I AM a faster learner when I put my mind to it!)

A Snapshot of Eternity

October 15, 2012 / Tom

I sat there, under the glowing street light waiting. A few flying insects buzzed past me as I sat, reminding me that I was there and time was not truly standing as still as it appeared. She was near, she was coming, and soon I would see if my Soul was being honest with me. I would know true love.

She was coming from a distance all the way to see me. Our hearts were drawn together through time and space and the moment was coming when the realization of a lifetime would be condensed into one “big bang” moment. A universe would be created then, in this space, and an entire reality formed in one single spark of love. We had felt it from our conversations, known it through our voices and seen it through our words but soon would be the physical manifestation of a lifetime of longing. I would hold her, kiss her, and know her in ways created for mere mortals to know certain Divinity.

Soon, the love I’ve never known before would create a love I’ve never known before. I would climb mountains I never knew I could climb, and experience things I have never experience before. I would be taken to the edge of the cliff and dropped into a waiting pool of…

Love.

∞

I’ll Stand By You

October 13, 2012 / Tom

I’ll stand by you

I’ll stand by you

I won’t let nobody hurt you

I’ll stand by you

Take me into your darkest hour

And I’ll never desert you

I’ll stand by you

So the song goes. A beautiful expression of true love, a woman vowing her allegiance to her man. Equally beautiful is the man seems to have suggested a need for such help, for such devotion. His Angel has responded, and now he can heal without fear that she is abandoning him or judging him as so many others have throughout his life. He can focus knowing that his love is by his side, and will not leave regardless of the circumstance.

Wow. And yes, I am projecting. I know that, no emails need be sent to show me that wonderful light. So what, I’m a man who would love to have a woman who would stand by me regardless of the circumstance. Because I have been one who has not wanted it, and has pushed it away vehemently, I realize the beauty of wanting it. Maybe even to someday have it.

I also wonder if the singer is singing it to herself. What a better gift to oneself than to know you will never desert you. Yes, I’ve deserted myself many times over my life. I’ve abandoned my intuition, my beliefs, my values and my inner truth many times. I’ve left the love I feel within me at the door and acted like a moron in the quest of a security that could never exist anywhere but within me. I’ve clung to the cliff when all I wanted to do was jump off of it.

So, part of having someone standing by you is living in the knowledge that you are that someone too. You stand by you, you walk with you into your darkest hour. You sing love songs to you, and you adore the person you are. Someday, with a little luck and a lot of passion, the person you are in love with will stand by you too.

Don’t give up, never give up. Know with some practice that there will always be one person who will stand by you no matter what, and that is you. You are that special. As for that other person you’d love to share your life with? Well, that person is out there waiting for you. What you are searching for is searching for you. It will come. Somewhere there is someone wishing they had another person standing by them, and one day your paths will cross.

Be vulnerable. Be open. And when those paths cross for Pete’s sake embrace the moment.

So the Dream Goes (Where you find Hope)

October 12, 2012 / Tom

Soften

And ride the wave back to me

Release

So that I fit into your arms again

Let go

So that my fingers can slide between your own

Fall

So that I may catch you

Let me fall

Into your waiting arms

Come

So that I may see that you are real.

So the dream goes

The happiest parts of me are revealed

I can laugh, I can sing

I can hear your voice in everything

So the dream goes

The sunrise actually means something

I go back to then and remember when

I can feel your head on my shoulder again.

Know

That it’s not in me to let go

Feel

This beating heart is not forever

Time

Is but a gift for us to squander.

Believe

That I will never let you down

Rely

And I’ll be standing by your side

Surrender

We will never lose again.

So the dream goes

We make love under the moon

I know why I can fly

Carried by love’s holy sigh

So the dream goes

I become more than me

It’s true, who knew

The best of me is not in you.

The Truth ↔ Continues

To wander through this life without ever really discovering who you are is a sin. Pain allows you to see it clearly if you simply stop focusing on the pain and find what it reveals. Imagine falling asleep in such despair only to find your dreams are within you. You can hear your lover’s voice again, you can see her clearly nestled against you. She loves you so much, with such a truth and strength that lets you know you will never walk alone.

Yes, you laugh, you stand straighter, you fly in your dreams. Your soul speaks to you there, it lets you know what you need to know in order to find faith. Some faith. In some thing.

I found faith in me in this moment. It will be tested as I walk alone through the dark pathways of my mind. It will be shaken as time unfolds this destiny. Yet I know, actually I still think, I am loved but it’s becoming more clear. In my dreams I know it, not just because of her hand in mine or her body suggesting nothing else is possible, but because I know it. Period. I am loved because I love myself. Or at least I am beginning to.

This is not to say that she doesn’t matter. This is not to say that the tears rolling down my cheeks aren’t real. It is to say that because I know what love feels like with her that I know I want to feel that for me. Yes, I want to love me.

Imagine that no matter what I do I can still accept me.

Imagine not hating myself.

Imagine knowing I am good enough to hold your attention.

Imagine riding on the train of our lives together and being secure enough to simply tell you, “I want you next to me…” and knowing you will come. That there is no test, there is only love.

I can imagine all of those things, and I want them. I will have them. The little boy is loved, this young man is loved, I am loved. By me. And then hopefully, by you.

The phone rings.

Yes, it is a gift to hear your voice. I asked and I received.

Love can show itself when you need it most. It has and I accept. When the ebb and flow of the mind tosses you around like a goldfish in the sea it is love, trust, that gets you to the shore if it is the shoreline that you seek. It will also have you crashing into the rocks if it is the rocks you seek. Whatever you ask for you receive, and whatever you seek you will find.

So now I love that little boy in me, the one who never felt it from anywhere, and I say, “come with me buddy, let’s go get a workout in.” I won’t reject him again as so many others have. He will feel a love unending. He will feel acceptance that has no bounds. He did nothing wrong. He is awesome. He is greatness personified.

Yes, as I type that the release is tremendous. Tears flow like a waterfall. Cries come from somewhere within me. I realize I hurt there more than anywhere. That poor boy, he is beautiful, kind, loving, funny and did nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve anything he got. Now, he is being loved for the first time in any memory.

That little boy smiles and laughs with excitement at the suggestion. You love me he says…yes I do I reply. He hugs me and I hug him. Tightly. We aren’t letting go. I am sorry I let you down he says. Tears are my reply. I’m sorry I wasn’t better he says. You were great is my answer. You were strong. You didn’t fail. You won’t fail. He sobs like I’ve never seen another human being sob. I wanted to be perfect he says. I wanted to make them happy, make you happy. Why didn’t anyone love me? What did I do? Nothing I say. You did nothing. They did it. It was them, not you. Don’t own what they did, give it back to them. Wrap it in a nice box with nice paper and give it back to them. It’s theirs. Not ours. We have each other, you and I. And we are perfect.

I start to sob uncontrollably. Yes, I love this little boy. I love me. We may have to delay our trip to the gym…swollen, bloodshot eyes don’t necessarily go over well in a public setting. For now, I will just hold me and love me and begin the process of giving back what is not mine and claiming what is. Me and this little boy are ready. Turning around and taking a step is still taking a step forward.

We have found each other here among the tears and the tattered remains of what was. We feel strong, and know that we have much to be grateful for. The river that Love set in motion beckons us, and we are ready to dive in. We look at each other squarely in the eyes. I ask, what shall we name this place?

Hope is his reply. So, Hope it is.

In A Moment of Complete Despair

October 11, 2012 / Tom

I can sit

And wait

For the call that is never coming.

You sit, and stare. You stare at the television, and watch shows you could never repeat the content of. You read chapters of a book, but couldn’t recite a single word on any of those pages. You laugh, but you are not sure at what. You so want to give in, to give up, and you utter a prayer to whatever God you know to make it all go away. You need her to call you, to tell you that it will be alright…I’m just angry right now…I love you.

But nothing. You…I…me…just sit and stare at the nothingness that is around you. The emptiness in your heart suggests that all of this is wrong, that what is right is her talking to you and laughing with you. The hand in yours, the arm around your neck, the eyes staring into you in ecstatic joy are all you want to know. You want the rest of it, the argument, the points, the protestations of something you don’t even care about to just fucking disappear.

Yet it won’t. It never will.

The darkness

Sheds me of the light

And now I just cry…empty and alone.

No, it never will. It will haunt you like few other demons have. Had it not all felt so perfect in those moments of love this moment would not be so absent of hope. You can hear her voice in the back of your mind and you just wish you could cry. Yet you can’t even muster another tear. The front you put on to the world suggests you are fine, but the reality is that you are dark and you are cold. Love is the most painful experience in your world when it no longer applies to your present, when it has left you cold and dangling from a ledge you have no certainty of escaping.

So you dangle, and you stare, and you wish it could all be different.

She seems happy. You can take some solace in that. She has not found the darkness and is not sharing in the cold. You find a smile creeping from your lips at the thought, she is fine and will be. You would bear this cross for her if just to know that your final gift to her was joy. It’s all you ever wanted to give her, and even when you failed you wanted to do so much more. If this, the joy she has in finally being rid of you, is the final gift you provide then the pain itself is worth it.

The phone rings

You jump, hoping…

But alas you sink in disappointment.

Hope falls to the floor like broken glass. Shards of it cut at your skin on their way down, and you bleed clear, salty blood from the little nicks. You feel the pins-and-needles of where those shards of hope have scarred you, and sink into the floor further than the Earth would ordinarily allow. Even the Earth gives way to your grief, and you are grateful for Her not resisting you in this, your moment of despair.

It will get better…it has to.

The voice reminds me

You’ve been here before

And look at the gift you got for surviving.

It is here, now, that you live your moment of despair. True, gone is the light that once gave you such beauty, but alive in you is the desire that fuels who you are. In this moment you are sucking the dust of a hundred lifetimes as she leaves your life, but you will, someday, use those arms that have picked you up before to again respond to the calling. You will feel the strength in your shoulders return. You will know your heart beat again. You will come to your knees and your legs will do their job.

No, those eyes will not grace yours again. Those hands will not grasp for you, wanting and needing you ever again. Those lips will not breathe life into your soul. She has made her choice and you now must make yours. You are love, you are strength, you are the man someone will embrace. Yours is a soul someone will not be able to envision ever living without. The lessons you have learned will make you smile, and once again you will laugh in the dance of Divinity. You will heal, and you will know what it is to feel again. So bask in this, your moment of despair, and remember it wisely.

Never forget this moment even as you seek to never relive it again.

The Broken Umbrella (Creative Writing Exercise)

October 2, 2012 / Tom

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ~Lao Tzu

It was just a solitary, broken umbrella. To the casual observer it meant nothing. It was refuse, trash, and needed to be discarded before the next home game. It had outlived its usefulness and could no longer serve its purpose. Soon, it would end up yet another anonymous object at the bottom of a landfill somewhere, decaying for a million years in the land of unwanted things.

Yet it stood there proudly, its bright red color contrasting greatly against the stadium’s somber grey concrete benches. It had been a couple of weeks since the team’s last home football game, and another was coming up in a few days. The maintenance crew was busy at work, getting the field ready and the stands prepared for the warm bodies that would give life to this otherwise cold landscape. Everyone there could see the red umbrella, but no one really noticed it. That is what happens when something becomes old and broken. The protector becomes garbage. The needed becomes discarded. To many who worked that field on this day that umbrella would become a harbinger of things to come. They, too, would become discarded when no longer loved, needed, or wanted. They, too, would be anonymous. Their bright color would fade into the grayness, and they would be forgotten.

This umbrella had, however, given a gift in its state of disrepair. It had been protecting a man and woman, lovers, as they sat and talked under the steady rain a few days earlier. They had been having trouble in their relationship, both feeling as if they had become broken and forgotten to the other. They both desperately wanted to work it out, to fix what had been broken, but neither would give up their anger. As the conversation became a debate and the debate became an argument, both began to lose sight of their truth. Soon, the innuendo became threats and it seemed like all would be lost on that cold, wet October day.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew and the once strong umbrella bent in the middle. It’s bright red covering folded backwards, and its arms gave way to the pressure. Both became soaked instantly, but the man and woman stopped their argument as the rain became a torrent. They began to curse the umbrella and the rain, running for shelter in one of the open doorways that led into the bowels of the stadium.

Once reaching drier climes, the stopped to get their bearings and to regain their senses. As they wiped raindrops from their faces they looked at each other. The eyes, those gateway to the soul, met and suddenly the world stopped around them. Something clicked. She suddenly was that beautiful woman he fell in love with, and he was that caring man she loved. Their hands moved in unison as he moved the hair from her eyes, and she wiped some raindrops from his forehead. Their words stopped, their anger was gone and all that was left was the indescribable force that had brought them together. The resistance subsided, and they stood, man and woman, lovers again.

“A lot of good this umbrella was,” the man said, looking at the broken thing in his hand.

“You know, it’s been a long time since we’ve danced in the rain,” came her reply.

They looked at each other and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s been too long. Let’s go,” the man said. He grabbed her hand and the ran out onto the concrete heading towards the field. On the way, the man dropped the umbrella along the benches where it would stay until it was picked up by the maintenance crew a few days later.

The sounds of laughter and rain echoed within the walls of the empty stadium as the lovers danced and played in the rain. After a while their bodies would become cold and they would embrace to get warm. They both remembered how nicely their bodies fit together, her head on his chest, his arms around her, his hand holding her head tightly to that spot where his heart beat. It felt so good to remember how right this was. It felt so good to feel how perfect everything would be when they just leaned on one another.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She, looked up at him, and they kissed like they hadn’t in quite some time. They held each other in this lover’s pose, remembering all along what made their world work. This, they remembered, was the Truth.

“Baby, take me home. I need you,” the woman whispered.

He took her hand again and they began to run to the stadium’s exit leaving their umbrella behind. In a moment that umbrella had given way, and the two would become one yet again. As the rain washed away their pain they remembered their love. Neither would recall what they were arguing about, and neither cared. Instead, they focused on the love they had rediscovered and the warmth they had given to one another on even the coldest of days. A gust of wind and a broken umbrella had provided a miracle of sorts, and one that would not be forgotten for the rest of their lives.

Even in breaking there is purpose, and even in getting wet there is hope. No one would know how important that umbrella was. It was picked up and put in the dumpster with the garbage but it had served an enormous purpose. Lovers who would find their eternal purpose that day owed it all to something they would never know and never remember. As their days became years and their years became decades it all made sense, and the man and woman never forgot to dance in the rain. And they never bought another umbrella.

♥

The Final Breath

September 28, 2012 / Tom

♥

He laid there, the immense pain in his chest beginning to numb under the realization that he was dying. Just moments before he was alive, enjoying the morning with his beloved, laughing about the memories they had created the night before. Now, he was sprawled out on the living room floor fighting for air, and wanting so desperately to talk.

She was there, above him, her hands holding his face as they had a thousand times before. The worry in her eyes was clear as she begged him not to leave her. “I love you baby, please stay with me. We never have to be apart again, I promise. Stay with me, I love you so much. Please…please.”

He wanted to talk, but the words just would not come out. He wanted to remind her that he loved her too. He wanted to bring her back to the many moments they shared. As her blue eyes cried the rains of hell onto him, he wanted to bring her back to Heaven, the place that they shared when their bodies meshed and their minds fell into each other. He wanted so badly to comfort her as she tried to comfort him by touching him, kissing him, and reminding him that yes, he was all she ever needed. All he could do, however, was lay there. As the tears streamed down from the corner of his eyes he could only stare at her and beg whatever gods there were that this would not be the end.

His desperate struggle for air began to settle as his mind drifted back to the first time he saw her. It was a picture, and her eyes had enveloped his senses and drew his attention. He couldn’t explain the feeling, he only could utter something to himself that he would say to her a short time later: “beautiful”. She stole his attention to the point that despite loving the mountains he did not notice them behind her. All he could do was look at her face, those eyes and that smile. He felt he knew her once, although he couldn’t say when. He also felt he needed to know her again, although he couldn’t say why. So, he sent a simple message, and then came her reply.

He could remember the reply, the poetic way she stated her emotions of the moment. He could feel her presence despite never meeting her. In a brave and courageous moment this man had sent that woman a message and she had replied. He knew then that something was happening within him.

A sudden shift brought him back to his reality. “I’m going to get the phone to call 9-1-1. Baby, please hold on!”

“NO!” he wanted to scream. “Please stay here with me. I need you baby, hold my hand. Kiss me. I don’t have much time left. I have so much I need to say to you.”

She was gone, and although only a few feet it seemed like a million miles had separated them. They had begun their relationship hundreds of miles apart, and although they had settled into a routine he could remember the pain of being separated from her. So many days had to be spent missing her and wishing she was there with him. In the early days he had often doubted that this woman could love him. He had often doubted that she could stay true to him. He often caved to the frantic fear of his mind created long before he ever met her. Even at its worst when they ended for a short time, she came back to him proving that he mattered, and that he had value to someone. She loved him, he could see it in her eyes and feel it in her touch, and now as he heard it in her voice as she frantically begged the dispatcher to get there as fast as he could. As she screamed at the phone, he only wanted her voice to become sweet again like it was when she said “I love you” or “come to bed baby”.

“Please sweetheart, let me hear you sing” his mind whispered as his mouth remained silent. “Don’t cry, just whisper in my ear and laugh. God, let me here that laugh please. I have a joke here somewhere, please just laugh.”

He could almost hear her laugh. It made him tingle to hear it. Her eyes would light up and her mouth would curve “just so”. It was no wonder everyone loved her so much. It used to drive him crazy, and he often felt in the beginning like she liked them more than she liked him. She paid more attention to them, and he felt relegated to a dark corner of the room. He believed she gave them more of her than she gave him, but once he began to listen and to see the truth he realized what a fool he was. She gave him so much more of herself than she had given anyone else. She loved him, and offered to him parts of her he was sure no one else had ever seen. She even gave him what he asked for, and in the process showed him the truth. “What a fucking idiot I was” he said to himself. “I want my fucking life back, I want to love her like she deserved to be loved from the first time we met. Please God, give it back to me, I won’t waste a second…”

God’s answer was a gasp for air and an intense pain in his chest. He shook his head angrily at the reply, and then focused as he had learned on the beauty around him. He could feel his children in his arms again as they had been as babies. He could hear them say “I love you dada” and feel their little hands take his index finger as they struggled to walk. He could feel them cuddled next to him when they got older as he read their favorite book. He could remember the lectures to his son about sports, the diatribes to his daughters about boys, the millions of laughs and the relatively small numbers of tears. He loved to make them laugh, and he would often make himself the butt of his own jokes to get them laughing hysterically. As he looked into his woman’s eyes something must have told her, “please tell my babies I love them. Please don’t ever let them forget.”

“I won’t. But you’re not going anywhere. You will tell them yourself.”

“God I wish” was his heart’s reply. His children were the first people he ever felt pure love for. They taught him what it was to love and be loved, and the woman who now cradled him softly taught him how right he was. His children gave him value as a father, she taught him value as a lover, together they taught him value as a man. Even now as he spent his last moments in this existence she was here, showing him his value and the true meaning of love. It wasn’t in the nifty words he could string together. It wasn’t in the sex. It wasn’t in the outward show of affection. It was in the truth that made all of those things possible, but not necessary. They were necessary to the ego, the truth was necessary only to itself and it owed something only to itself. He had understood that early on, but it took him time to get over himself to actually use it. His past had once so cluttered his mind that it stole precious moments away from him and from them. Moments made even more precious by their imminent end.

He could feel the end coming. Within him became a mixture of peace and pain, of darkness and light. He realized this interesting parallel in the life we all lead. It seemed what we call death is just like what we call life, a mixture of suffering and joy. Even now, as he suffered intensely amid the final pathway to peace he couldn’t go there. Not yet. He wanted to spend one more moment with this woman who had changed his life and brought the sunshine where none existed. For that he would bear whatever pain that had to be borne. He suddenly became calm, and the pain seemed to subside. This, as it had been his entire life, was the power of Love.

He looked at her and felt healthy. His breathing seemed to return to normal, and the pain in his chest subsided. He shook his head slowly, although he was not sure at what. It felt like the first time they met, with a mixture of excitement and anticipation followed by realization and love. Then she laughed, oh God she laughed. Through the tears and sniffles she laughed. His head, now on her thighs as she stroked his head and wiped the tears from his cheeks, shook a bit with each burst of laughter. He was able to lift his arms long enough to wipe her hair from her face and stroke the contour of her jaw line one final time. Suddenly, he found his voice for one last poetic verse to his lover.

“Baby, I love you. Since the dawn of time I have loved you. It may be here, or it may be there, but somewhere I will be loving you. Please, know that it is you, and it always has been you. I am grateful for last night, and for every night I have had with you. I am also very grateful for this moment and that it was with you. I love you…I swear.”

As she bent to kiss him, he closed his eyes, grateful that the last vision he would have in this lifetime was of her, his lover, his friend, his guiding star. They kissed sweetly with a passion that had never left. With that, he inhaled deeply and headed toward peace.

♥

I will light your way

September 27, 2012 / Tom

The Car Alarm (Writing Exercise #4)

September 23, 2012 / Tom

Setting: inconsequential

Subject: car alarm

He was awakened by the turbulent sound of a toilet flushing. He felt as if he had been awake for days, and he just wanted some sleep. The thin foam mattress he found himself on offered little comfort, and the starched sheets and blankets provided little more than the illusion of warmth. He wasn’t used to a high level of comfort and hospitality, but even for him this was a step downward from the stark realities of home. He began to hear some shouts in the distance accompanied by a few clanks as metal met metal. It’s not the way to begin your day in any lifetime, but as he watched one of his cellmates head back to his own world of discomfort he was reminded of where he was.

A sigh. “That fucking car alarm.”

It had been less than 24 hours earlier when his troubles began, or rather when they finally caught up with him. After a night of partying with his crew, he had left the apartment of a girl he had met that night to make the walk home. He didn’t live far from here, just a few blocks to the north and then a short hike to the east, so he decided to make a workout out of it. Beginning a slight jog in the cool morning air, he had soon made his way halfway home when he heard it.

“That fucking car alarm.”

It wasn’t rare to hear car alarms in his neighborhood, but it was rare to hear it at this time of the morning. Usually everyone was asleep or getting home, or leaving some nighttime rendezvous that went too long, so alarms at this hour were rare. He kind of laughed to himself realizing they actually may not be all that rare. What was rare was his being up this early. Even through the haze of his hangover he could sense the stillness of this time of day. It seemed unusual compared to the busy-ness of the urban life, and he admitted that he actually liked it. The sidewalks were empty, and besides the occasional street vendor he saw no one. He could actually stretch out his arms without fear of hitting anyone. He stopped his jog and did just that, and the feeling of space actually felt liberating to him. Yes, he said to himself, he could get used to this.

The car alarm still blared in the stillness of the night. The sky was just beginning to turn that light hue of blue that announces the imminent arrival of the sun. He didn’t have far to go, and he knew that he would have to hurry if he was going to make it to his room before his grandmother caught him. He wasn’t worried about getting in trouble for being out all night. He had done that more times than he could count. His fear resided in the fact that she would ask him to attend Sunday services at her church. He always had trouble saying no to his grandmother, and today would not be any exception. She would not bother him if he was sleeping, but if she caught him awake all bets were off. He loved his grandmother, and realized it now for the first time in a long time. Maybe he would even stay awake until she woke up, and he would give her a hug and surprise her by asking to go to church with her. That would not just make her day, but her entire week! Maybe he would even watch the sun rise for the first time in memory. Maybe he would tell his grandmother about it. She would laugh, grab his cheeks with her aged but strong hands and plant a kiss right on his lips. He would act like he hated it, but that was just an act. Yes, her entire week would be made as would his day.

First, he would take a slight detour. He wanted to see what the car alarm was all about. A part of his brain was screaming “just go home, there is only trouble where that alarm is” but he just couldn’t help himself. It had only been a few moments since the alarms started, but the fact that it hadn’t stopped piqued his curiosity. Now he just wanted to see what was going on.

So, he crossed the street in a jog and headed toward the direction of the sound. The flashing red brake lights of the car made finding it easy, and as he neared it he could see that the passenger side window had been broken. He continued to run past it and didn’t stop to look to see what, if anything, had been taken from the car. No, the fucking car alarm and the broken glass was all he needed to see. It signaled trouble, and all he could do was hope that no one was still in the car as the sound went from in front of him to behind him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, and even stopped breathing as if the act would somehow make him more noticeable.

As he neared the next intersection he began to go right when another set of flashing lights appeared. The police were on their way, and soon they would discover not only what he saw, but what he didn’t see. Let them discover what was going on with the car, he just wanted to get home to his grandmother and the breakfast she was sure to make. He could almost taste it.

The police car screeched to a sudden stop and the driver yelled, “stop, and stay were you are!” The jogger did as told and complied when the officer ordered him to put his hands on the trunk of a nearby car and “keep them where I can see them.” After a short talk on the radio, the female officer got out of her car and headed toward the jogger. She almost reminded him of the girl he was with last night. Definitely a little older, but just as pretty albeit not nearly as fun. At least not at this time in this setting.

She asked him the usual questions. Where are you coming from? Some woman’s house. Why were you running? Just decided to run home rather than walk. Why were you running from the car broken into and isn’t that a strange coincidence? No, actually, I heard the alarm and wanted to check it out. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

She began to frisk him. Something seemed oddly strange about having a nice-looking woman touch him like this. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it, and given different circumstances it might actually be fun. Then it dawned on him as the sudden wave of fear grip him just as she grouped his pocket.

“What’s this?”

“A pipe ma’am.”

Fuck. He had forgotten about that pipe. He and the girl he was with had smoked some weed the night before, and he stuck the pipe in his pocket so he wouldn’t forget it the next morning. Alcohol and pot seemed to dull the memory the next morning and he really wanted to leave her place with everything he came with. Well, minus a couple of condoms and well, you know.

“Alright, put your hands behind your head, you are under arrest.”

He didn’t say a word as she read him his rights. He didn’t say a word as she put him in her car. He didn’t say a word as she reported “one in custody”. He didn’t say a word as they drove to the place where the holding cell, the bed, the toilet and the cellmates waited. He wasn’t silent however. His mind was speaking loudly even as his mouth remained still. He was thinking about his grandmother. He was missing her breakfast. He was missing going to church with the beautiful old woman who raised him. He was missing his bed. He wasn’t going to see the sun rise this morning.

All because of that fucking car alarm.

A Trail to Destiny (Creative Writing Exercise #2)

September 19, 2012 / Tom

Setting: at a meeting in a conference room on a dark, rainy day

Subject: the raindrops on the windows

I stared out the window as the rain pounded against the glass, making a tapping sound that reminded me of a thousand boots marching out of time during a parade. My head felt like it had been hit by an avalanche, and the weather certainly wasn’t helping. That damned numbness-mixed-with-a-dull-ache just wouldn’t go away as I sat my ass down on one of the plump leather chairs surrounding the large oak conference table. The meeting I had just attended was over, and after the cordialities had been dispensed with I just had to get away from the bullshit being thrown around the office. Everyone was acting so nice, so fucking nice, and I needed to get away from the act long enough to gather my senses. The often strong exterior I donned before leaving my apartment was beginning to crack, and I had reached my limit of fake smiles, jokes and laughter for one day.

It’s tough when a person just doesn’t feel like enough. He can’t imagine being good enough for his partner, strong enough for his family, smart enough for his bosses, or there enough for his friends. He feels pathetically weak in even the most benign of situations. In many ways he was just like the raindrops now finding their way to the window in his gaze. He was helpless, and even though he would give life to whatever he could he went largely ignored unless he was seen as a nuisance. He would never be noticed unless he was stealing away the sunshine or ruining her hair or creating havoc whether intentionally or not. No, he…I…we, would never been seen for the beauty we gave to the world and instead would spend this lifetime in certain role in a certain way.

I followed one raindrop as it hit the glass near the top of the window. It hung on for dear life there, reminding me of my need to hang on. I chuckled at the irony as I stared at that tiny drop of water just stuck there, unable to let go and unable to follow its natural destiny. It would fall, eventually, but for now it just stayed in that one holy spot fighting for its own survival. Or was I? I was in a job I didn’t like. I was constantly trying to be “the one” to my woman I wasn’t good enough to be with. I wanted so desperately to be accepted by my peers, to be noticed among them even as I wondered anonymously between them. Here I was scratching and clawing to remain stuck to the glass, desperately fighting my destiny.

Much like this raindrop I had no idea what the truth was. I had no idea who I was or what I was doing here. I just knew that I had been thrown on this piece of glass and now hung on without ever truly knowing why. I could not look down for fear of seeing where I was heading. I could not look up because, well, “up” had rejected me. All I knew was at this moment I was married to this piece of glass, and if that glass wouldn’t accept me all I could do was try to accept it while hanging on for fear of falling into the abyss.

I could see the raindrop slowly losing its battle. I realized that the battle it was having was not with the glass, but with some unseen force that was dragging it downward toward its great unknown. Some may call that force “God” or “fate”, but I like to call it “destiny”. We are all slaves to destiny it seems, for whatever war we wage to hold on to our piece of glass the truth is that we were never going to outwit or out fight our destiny. As the raindrop slowly began its way toward destiny, I could only wonder what would happen if I just let go and let the chips, or raindrops, fall where they may. In truth I had no idea what would happen because I had never done it. I’d always took the path more traveled and then suffered the consequences.

The raindrop was heading downward now, and I followed it to the known end of its journey. It was gone, save the little piece of itself it left as a trail down the window. Like a tear-left stain marking the spot where sadness had reigned, I followed the trail from its beginning to end, and that was it, a metaphor of my life, which had begun inconsequential and would end meaningless and forgotten.

I wanted so desperately to join that raindrop in its end; to dive out of the window and meet my destiny anonymously and without fanfare. I could feel me falling. Free. Done. Forgotten. I would hit the ground with a splash and soon would become lost in the enormity of it all. Yes, destiny certainly could be a cruel Master but at least it never played games or fucked with the minds of its victims. It just was, unintentionally cruel and unforgiving as it doled out truth to each and every one of us.

Just then the door to the conference room opened. I snapped back to attention, donned my fake smile and forced laugh, and began the role renewed. The fall and freedom would have to wait for another time and in some other place. I would happen, though. After all, it is my destiny.