Touch

He didn’t quite understand why he was running.  He just knew he was supposed to run.  That he was in danger.  He was running from himself.  Running from what he had made.  He was like Dr. Frankenstein, only he had no intention of ever facing his monster ever again.  There would be no going back and cleaning up this mess.  How do you change 12 years of a life?  How do you forget?  Where would he go?  What would he say? Mark stepped onto the sidewalk from his apartment building, a large bag packed ready for where ever he would end up.  It was the early afternoon and the sunlight caught his eyes and blinded him for a moment and his phone rang.  He bumped a stranger.

Eleanor shrugged off the ass hole that bumped into her.  He had a crazy look on his face as he dug out a cell phone from his pocket.  She was late for work, and this little shit was just getting in her way.  So typical of men! She huffed loudly so that the man turned and smirked sadly at her.  He reminded her of a lost puppy and she wanted to help him, but her girlfriend would never let her bring home a lost man. A puppy yes… a man no.  She smiled to herself thinking of what Lizzy’s face would look like if she were to bring home a sad man on a chain.  Her hand lightly grazed the hand of a man holding a newspaper.

Scott was reading about how the politics where so screwy these days when he felt someone tap his right hand.  He looked up to see a women dressed in a very professional suit, who laughed at something.  Scott looked around suddenly interested in what she was smirking about.  The street was full of people.  There was one guy that seemed a little out of place.  He was a tall handsome man who had a big hiking backpack and he spoke angrily into his cell phone. This was Chicago. What was he doing speaking Italian?  Scott watched this guy as he paced back and forth, his eyes never staying on one thing for more then a split second.  Scott began to make up a story for this stranger.  He was leaving town because the Italian food was bad here… From behind he felt a slight pressure as a passerby’s elbow made a line across his back.

Julie had nowhere to be.  She had just arrived in Chicago the day before and this was her first time walking around her apartment building.  She stepped up onto the curb from off the street just as a taxi zipped by.  Stopping she felt her heart starting to speed up.  What was she doing there?  The Museum job was under her, but the Louvre had turned her down three times.  She hated the French now.  She was the best damn thing to ever happen to art history.  She bumped into a man with a large backpack as he climbed into a taxi.

Mark’s hands sweat.  What the hell had he gotten himself into?  “To the University.” He had wanted to say the train station, but no.  He settled himself into the sticky leather seats of the taxi.  He breathed deeply, relaxing for the first time in six hours.  Ever since he had gotten that desperate call from her.  She told him it was over.  That they had found him and he had to leave.  Why did he even believe that woman?  She was nothing but bad luck.  And now she had just told him that she couldn’t get it from his lab.  He looked forward but his gaze was caught on the Plexiglas that separated him from the driver.  His reflection was horrible.  That’s when he saw the driver’s lips moving.  What was he saying? “Huh?”

            “You studyin’?”  The driver asked for what must have been the fifth time.

            “Oh no.  I…I am just finishing some research then I’m done with the university for a very long time.”  He hated his research but it was his life. 

            “Oh whatcha researching there son?”  This man knew nothing of him.  Who was he to assume he was so young? That he was a son?

            “I’d rather not say.” Mark said ending the conversation before it went anywhere.  He began to play with the strap of his pack.  Everything he had discovered was inside his pack.  The only thing that he had left in this life was there.  That was his life.  A stack of damn papers and a knife.  It was his journal of sorts, it was his proof of what he had done.  His life contained on paper and ink.  And today they had found him.  How had they found him here?  Why hadn’t he saved the gun from Mexico?

            The Taxi stopped and he dropped money into the driver’s outstretched hand.   He pulled his pack onto his back and started towards his lab.  His shoulder hit a young man listening to an ipod.

That was him and Tim knew it.  He smiled greedily.  His boss would be thrilled that he had spotted Mark Mathews.  He would also get paid a lot of money if he were the one who brought in proof of death.  Tim reached around to his back and under his light sweater felt the .44 semi-automatic.  Tim smiled to himself as he started to follow Mark.  He reached out and touched the lower back of a young college girl who was walking by, letting her pass in front of him.

Bethany cringed as the smiling man lightly touched her back.  She hated that habit that so many people had of touching strangers.  Looking back again she saw the man listening to his ipod and staring up the stairs that led to the chemistry research laboratories.  She hated those labs, her freshmen year she had wanted to be a doctor and had spent hours trying to figure out General College Chemistry in those labs.  She was now a music major.  Bethany made her way into grassy area in the center of campus where she was going to meet her boyfriend Blake.  From behind she felt a warm hand creep around her waist and she gave a little girly yelp.

Reaching his hand around his girlfriend, Blake turned her around as she yelped in her cute and annoying way.  “Hey precious.”  But before she could answer he kissed her hard on the lips.  He wasn’t in the mood to hear her talk much. 

Bethany leaned back from his kiss.  A smile spread across her face.  One day she would marry this man.  She just knew it.  He stood in the sun so that he had a halo on his head.  He was so cute.  “Hey there.  How have you been? Did you finish your paper?” she grabbed his hand.

Letting go of her hand Blake realized this might be the only way of getting out from hanging out with her and listening to her bitch and moan about how her TV shows sucked these days.  “No babe, I actually gotta go finish it right now.”  He lied.  Sarah’s face found its way into his mind.

            “Well you go finish it!” she said.

            He knew she would say that.  “Ok.  I will give you a call later tonight.”  He turned to walk away when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

He wasn’t getting away without a good-bye kiss! “Not so fast young man!”  Bethany leaned in and gave him a quick, passionate kiss on the lips. She pictured the big kiss at the end of any and all good chick-flicks.

Blake pulled away and said a quick good-bye.  He hated how she was so clingy.  He ran up the stairs into the science building.  Thoughts of what to say to Sarah to get her to sleep with him quickly raced through his mind.  He pulled the door open and rushed in and ran right into the back of a man standing there listening to his ipod.

“You little Shit!” Tim said as he gathered himself and watched a young kid race away without even saying sorry.  Kids weren’t that polite these days.  But of course he was a hired killer so he wasn’t that nice either.  Gathering himself he looked back to the stairwell that Mark had just begun to climb.  There was Mark looking straight at him.  Did he know?  There’s no way.  Then Mark turned and began to run up the stairs.  “Fuck.”  He said as he ran for the stairs also. 

            He hated when he was spotted.  It just meant he had to think fast and run faster.  In his mind he saw the blue-prints of this building.  Dr. Mathews had an office on the third floor and a lab right behind it.   He had to get to him before he could destroy that damn vile.  That little glass tube was worth enough to pay off USA’s debt five times over.  Tim didn’t know why but he did know his employers were very interested in having it.  His leg muscles twitched and burned as he took the stairs three at a time.  When he got to the third floor he look down the long stone corridor and saw the fifth door on the left close.  That was Mark’s office.  Tim was sure of it.  This was going to be very easy.  He went to the door and pushed it open.  There stood Mark.  Shock on his face, and sweat darkening his grey shirt.  ‘There you are Dr. Mathews.  I believe you know why I am here.”  Tim loved when he caught his victim. 

            “No! You can’t have it! I don’t even have it!” 

            “Oh is that right?  I think you are lying to me Mark.”  He noticed that Mark’s bag laid open on the floor next to the desk.  A few papers out of place on the floor around it. 

            “I’m not lying.  I don’t have it anymore.” 

            “Now doctor, I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”  He closed the distance between them in two long strides.  “Actually that’s a lie…I do want to hurt you. I want to hurt you very badly.”  He punched Mark hard in the stomach sending him back a few steps.

Mark stumbled back clenching his stomach.  He started for the knife he had stuck into the back of his pants, but then thought better of it.  He knew not to show that yet.  He needed to know what this man knew about his work.  Even though he hated it with all his being he couldn’t let this man get it, or let The Corporation get it.  “Go to Hell!  That’s the only way you will ever see it!”  He said to the man.   Mark didn’t want to have to kill this man, but if he had to, he would.  He needed to get the vile and get out of the country.

            “Oh, to Hell huh?  I think you will be there waiting for me for a long time before I ever feel those flames.”  Mark almost laughed at his come back.  Some men these days just sounded so dumb.  The man made to punch him in the face and he ducked to the left and delivered a hard right hook to the man’s ribs.  He felt a crack.

The air was suddenly gone from Tim’s lunges as he stumbled back. So Mark knew how to fight this should be fun.  He regained his balance and brought his hands up to fight this little fucker that had ruin his week.  Mark made to grab something from behind him so Tim lunged for him and knocked him to the ground.

Rolling on the ground Mark drew out his knife quickly and clumsily.  He felt the blade slice his back a little.  Damn it burned.  He looked up to see the man pulling out a gun with a silencer.  Was he an assassin?  Had the Corporation actually hired an assassin this time?  They were getting very desperate.  Rolling as the man pulled the trigger he felt wood splinters fall on his face. 

            “Now that I have your attention.” The would-be assassin began, “I would appreciate your full co-operation.”  Mark thought this man must have been new to the whole trash talking and killing scene.  He sucked at it.  You never stop to monologue!  Taking advantage of this man’s stupidity Mark drove his right foot into the man’s left knee.

Tim was on the ground grabbing at his knee.  The little shit kicked him.  As he pulled up the gun to shoot he felt Mark’s fist make contact with his right temple.

The man was slower now.  Mark had the upper hand and he wasn’t about to waste it.  He hated killing but some times it had to be done.  Holding the knife in his right hand and looking down at the man, he kicked his fallen gun away form him and said “Sorry you got dragged into this.  I don’t think they really told you who I am did they?”  He saw fear in the man’s face. He must have known he had lost.  Mark drove the knife deep into the man’s torso. 

The blade cut into Tim with ferocious pain.  He screamed out loudly and squeezed his eyes shut.  Mark had won.  But maybe not if he could just get to his gun.  He opened his eyes and he reached for his gun.

            “Oh well I don’t want you having that now do I.”  Mark said.  “If I were you I would just try to call for help. That’s all the help you have left.”  He bent down and picked up the gun and placed it in the back of his jeans.  “The silencer was a nice touch.  But like I said, you had no idea who you were trying to kill.” 

            Tim felt the knife pulsate with his beating heart.  His feet tingled and his hands were cold.  He watched as Mark went through the door that would take him into his lab.  Tim laid there on the ground with a knife in him.  He couldn’t move.  Every wince would double the pain.  It was harder to breathe now.  He thought of his son.  It was his birthday next week.  He was turning eleven.  He had bought him a baseball glove.  Tim began to cough, the tears that found their way to the floor mixed in with his blood that quickly spread across the tile.  He saw Mark return with the vile in his hand.  That was what he was dying over?  A yellow liquid? 

            “Don’t worry it was worth it.”  Mark said as he placed the vile into his bag and put the papers that had fallen out back in with it.  “It was worth it the first time I had to kill someone, too.” 

            Tim choked on the air that he tried in vain to pull into his body.  He was dying.  It was over.  Was it worth it?  As Mark walked out he saw his son’s face in his mind as the office faded to blackness.  

A Stranger in My Mirror

A stranger in my mirror

The mind a chaotic hurricane

This stranger that I see they made.

Unrelenting tears drip from my chin

They wet the shirt I never liked nor wanted to wear.

The hurricane of unwanted memories begins to clear.

Blue sky of change lies within my reflection’s steady hand.

A perfect shiny day

No more Them, no more They.

The freedom to act like me and not be pushed away.

I take from his hand my clear blue day.  A gun!

Like Thomas I doubt this could truly be.

Hot steel heavy in trembling hand, what can I see?

My chaotic mind stops and accepts the thought.

Hurricane’s rains fall hard from my face,

The edge of this storm, my blue day, waiting just ahead.

With the pull of the trigger I could be what they never expected.

                                                                                                                 Me.

Red Lines and Fireworks

He topped off his shot glass, hating and loving the burn that was about to come.  Seth hated that he was here alone. Drunk by ten.  He never had anyone over to his house.  No one wanted to hear the constant screaming that infested his home.  When he was twelve he had burned the mat that had sat for years outside his front door.  If he didn’t feel welcome here, then no one else should either.

            His mother was going to be furious when she found her vodka to be half water, but then again that bitch was too stupid to notice.  Seth sat in his room doing what all drunken 17 year olds do.  Playing Halo.   His vision was tunneled and it made it harder for him to concentrate on anything but the shot glass and the faggots that were screaming “Noob!” through the headphones that he was wearing.  Today had been hard on Seth.  He downed the clear liquid fire, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn.

            Tonight the house was quiet; his mom had left to go get some guy to pay her for sex.  She disgusted him.  She didn’t care about him.  Another shot.  Another hit of napalm down his throat.  A little bit of relief.  Not nearly what he needed.  He took off his headphones and couldn’t hear anything.  She hadn’t come back.  Not a lot of business on a Monday he guessed, or they had hit up a dirty motel. 

            Seth took the bottle of Absolute to the kitchen and filled it with about an inch of tap water.  A smile broke across his heavily acne covered face.  He put it back under the sink where she always tried to hide it from him.  She wasn’t very clever when it came to hiding things.   He didn’t understand why she didn’t just keep it in the freezer, he had seen that on TV, wasn’t it better cold?

            In the bathroom he turned the rusty old bathtub faucets and pulled the shower tab up.  Hot water rushed down as steam rised to the dirty ceiling.  Climbing in he recoiled against the hot water and wincing turned the heat down.  It was still hot when he started to let it run over his face.  He thought of the disgusted face that shot across Nikki’s face when he asked her.  She had laughed.  He was such a loser! Why had he thought the hottest girl in school would ever want to go out with him?  Seth punched the wall and after an unsatisfying crack he pulled back his limp hand.  He couldn’t even punch right.

            “What were you thinking?” he breathed against the water on his face.  From the pit of his stomach the urge felt its way violently to his brain.  Release.  He looked down to the side of the bar of soap.  A small razor rested there, water beading on its side.  He swallowed hard.  He needed it.  He thought quickly if he had a semi-clean enough long sleeve shirt.  Of course he did, that’s all he had.  

            He reached down to grab the razor, the hot water bounced off of red lines that marked the many times of previous releases on his arm. Previous calls for help.  Calls that he knew no one would ever see.  No one paid enough attention. 

            Feeling the warm blade he raised it to the full stream of water.  Water ran of it like a waterfall from a tall cliff.  Seth brought it closer to his skin, rested it between two red lines that were already healing.  He watched as long as he could before the stinging hot pain was too much.  The waterfall from the tips of his fingers turned an uneven red.   He pictured his mother.  He picture Nikki’s disgusted face.  He pictured himself alone.  Forever alone.

           

          
Seth was on his feet before the bell even rang.  He had the school bell schedule down to a science.  His hoodie covered the dark mat of hair that he never brushed, as well as the still moist scabs on his arm.  He walked out of the classroom and made his way to his locker, tracing the familiar lines between the tiles on the hallway floor.  His head ached and his throat was dry.   He couldn’t stand the noise of the other kids and slipped his old CD player’s ear buds into his ears.  Heavy metal drowned out his world.  He stopped thinking.

            Suddenly there was a stinging on his arm, like the red lines were opening anew.  It wasn’t till his face relaxed from that instant pain, that he realized that someone was grabbing his arm.  He turned to see Chloe there her mouth moving, no sound but the music from his CD player.  It skipped as he fumbled to find the pause button.  He pulled out the ear buds.  “Hey.” He said flatly.

            “I said hi like five times! Sorry if I scared you.”  She smiled.  Her eyes on his. 

            “Oh…” he held out the ear buds, “I was…”  he let his outstretched hand explain. 

            “Yeah…got that.” She blushed a little and looked to her feet.  “Hey, Seth, I saw what happened yesterday with Nikki.”

            “Oh…I hope you enjoyed that.”  Chloe wasn’t really his friend.  He didn’t have many.  Seth didn’t really talk to anyone.

            “NO!” Her eyes jumped from the floor to meet his brown irises.  “She was such a…a…horrible person to you!” 

            “No, it was my fault.  I’m the idiot.”  He turned to leave.  Why was she even talking to him?

            “Seth!” Chloe grabbed his arm again in the same spot.  He stopped quickly and straightened a little past normal posture.  “…ask me” her cheeks became a hue of almost purple.

            “What?”

            “Ask me.” She said more sure of herself.

            “This is stupid…what did you not get a good laugh yesterday?”  He turned and started to walk away.   A few of the other students were looking at them now.  He hated being looked at.  And what was Chloe doing?  Didn’t she hang out with Nikki?

            “Seth!” she rushed after him and grabbed his arm again.

            “Ouch! Stop touching me…what do you want?” he hated being touched.

            She looked at him startled.  “For you to ask me.”

            “Fine what the hell, will you go with me to the prom?”  He asked angrily and with his arm now throbbing.

            “Yeah…I mean yes. I will go with you.” She said with a triumphant smile.

            “What? …Really?” Did she like him or something? That couldn’t be right.  What could a girl possibly see in him. “Umm…ok.”  Was this a joke?

          
Seth’s hands sweat as he walked up the steps to Chloe’s house.  Tonight was it.  He wore his dead dad’s tie, he wasn’t sure if he felt ashamed to wear it or proud.  He did feel stupid though.  He knocked on the door. Then he saw the doorbell and thought he was even more of a loser.  No one knocks anymore, everyone rings the bell.  “Idiot.” He said as the doorknob began to turn.  His heart stopped.  A cold wind blew his tie off to the side as the door opened and an older man stood there.   A large smile on his face. 

            “Right on time…I like that my boy.” Chloe’s dad said as he let Seth in.  The house was clean.  That was the first thing that he noticed.  No bottles, dirty clothes, and it smelt like flowers.  Seth felt incredibly uncomfortable.   It was worse then walking through the hallways at school, now the eyes really were on him. 

            “You have a beautiful house Mr. Howards.”  Seth said, because that’s what mature, respectable people say. 

            “Oh, why thank you, I had to screw a few people over to get it, but hey I love it!” Chloe’s dad said.

            “Oh you stop that!” A woman’s voice said from the stairs in the main entrance that led up to the second floor.  “He’s lying Seth, he’s a good man.  Don’t hold it against him that he’s a lawyer.” Chloe’s mom came into the entryway.  “She will be right down.  She’s so excited!”

            “Ok.” Seth thought for sure they were asking themselves why he didn’t have the mandatory tux for senior prom. They never asked.  Never looked at him without a smile on his face.  It made Seth smile too.  He hated how smiles were contagious. 

            “So, son,” Mr. Howard said.  Seth couldn’t remember the last time anyone called him son.  “What are your plans for college? Where all have you applied?” he asked sincerely wanting to know, not just making small talk.

            Shit…the only question worse then this he could have asked was to ask how Seth’s family was. “Umm…uh…I think I am just gunna go to the community college here.  I actually haven’t thought about it that much.” He lied.  He had no intention of going to college, but he did think about it a lot.

            “Oh…” Chloe’s mother said, “You have to go to college, no one gets jobs without a degree nowa days hun!”

            Hun? Who were these people? “I guess I will try to transfer or whatever.”            -Whatever? You sound like an idiot! - He thought.

            “Hey, I was just like that too. I actually don’t quite know how I became a lawyer…I used to hate lawyers.” Chloe’s dad said, easing the awkward tension that was just budding in the room. 

            “You guys be nice to my date!” Chloe yelled down the stairs.  Seth’s heart jumped a beat.  He was both excited and nervous.  He wasn’t sure what to expect.

            He heard her footsteps coming down the stairs and he turned to see Chloe.  She stood there at the foot of the stairs in a long silver dress.  Fitted top and flared bottom.  She looked gorgeous.  Seth had to consciously pull up his fallen jaw.  He swallowed hard. 

            “Wow…I feel underdressed.”

            “Don’t be silly Seth, you look great! And thank you for the ‘wow’” she said.

            “Well you two have fun. I don’t want you to be late.  You better get going!” Chloe’s dad said.

            “Don’t be silly Frank, we have to take pictures!” Chloe’s mom shouted, looking overly excited for the chance to break out the camera. 

            “Only a few please mom.” Chloe begged.  Seth was happy for that.

            After 20 minutes of excruciating embarrassment Seth and Chloe made their way through traffic towards the high school.

            “So you excited for the dance?” she asked

            “Not really…I mean I am excited to be with you…I mean…uh…it’s just that I don’t really like dancing.”  He said kicking himself. Idiot.

            “Haha…well I don’t like dancing much either.  It makes me feel like an idiot.” She looked out her window, the large moon just above the tree line.  “Hey have you heard about the fireworks tonight?”

            “What? No I haven’t.  Where at?” he was hoping she would want to go to them instead of the dance.  

            “Yeah! There’s a group of kids that do it every year! You haven’t heard?”  She looked at him.

            He nodded no and blushed a little. 

            “Oh…Serious? Nothing?” 

            “No…haha” he laughed.  Apparently when you listen to music all the time in the hallways you don’t hear about things.

            “It’s out over Lake Madison…Wanna go?”

            “But Prom, isn’t it like your dream to go there or something?”

            “Haha…Seth, you don’t really know me do you?” she smiled and even through the dark light he saw that she really wanted to go to this lake.

            “What the hell… lets do it!”  He said. Unsure about what was going to happen that night, nor if he was ready for it.

           

          
They parked on the side of the gravel public access road and walked in the rest of the way.  Him in a long sleeve shirt and her in a formal gown.  “We look ridiculous!” she said as they made their way to the lake. 

            “Just a little.” Seth agreed.   When they came to the edge of the lake they looked across and saw a huge party and could just barely hear the loud music.  “I thought you said it was over here?”

            “I know…I lied…”she said.

            “Did you know it was over there?”  He was actually sort of relieved that he didn’t have to deal with the party. That it was just the two of them.

            “Yes…but I thought it would be better over here.”  She smiled.           

            “Oh so you wanted me alone?” His heart beat faster. “Wait you’re not going to kill me are you?” He joked.

            “See I knew you were funny!” she sat in the middle of a bench and patted the seat next to her.

            “Not really…I’m quiet. I’m awkward. But I am not funny, unless you mean that as in funny looking.”

            “Seth…Stop that! You’re kinda cute.” She blushed.  “And you’re nice to everyone.”

            He sat by her, a little confused about what she was talking about.

            “You don’t judge anyone.  I mean…well I never see you talk behind anyone’s back.”

            “Have you ever even seen me talk?”

            “Yeah.  I remember you helping Sarah pick up her stuff after Nikki bumped into her and we all just laughed and walked away.”

            “Oh.”

            “I…I just wanted to be more like you in that instant.  You always…you never try to be someone you’re not.”

            “I wish I wasn’t me.  I…my life…I am just happy to be here with you I guess.”  How could he ever explain that he wasn’t this great man who she apparently thought he was.  He didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing.

            Chloe was looking up at the moon when he finally turned to look at her.  Her beautiful skin glowed with the silver glow of the night.  He couldn’t stop looking at her.  What was he doing here with her?  Suddenly she stood and turned her back to him.  “Unzip me.”

            “What?”

            “Unzip my dress! Come on!”

            “No!” he started to sweat even though it was a cool night.

            “We are going swimming!” 

            “What? Uh…I don’t know how to swim.”  There was no way he was taking off his shirt. 

            “Just do it!” she said still not turning to face him.

            “Umm…ok I guess.”  He unzipped her dress and she stepped out of it.  Her black underwear was a striking contrast against her white skin.  He turned his back to her, respecting what she apparently didn’t want respected.

            “You’re not checking me out?” her voice was surprised.

            “No…sorry. I mean you are really pretty but…”

            “Wow…thank you…” the shock heavy in her voice.  “Ok, off with the shirt!”

            “NO! Umm… I mean I will just swim with it on.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous! Come on now.”

            “No I said I don’t want to!” his voice was getting angry.  Why didn’t she just stop?  He thought of his arms.  No one was ever supposed to see them.

            “Seth, its ok! Do you think I’m gunna judge you?” 

            His mind raced, was she talking about judging his body or did she know about what he did to himself.  He wanted to just do what she said, but she would think he was a freak.  “I’m sorry…it’s just that I…No.   You go swim and I will watch.”

            He turned to face her, and saw a large smile across her face.  “Now, Seth, we can do this the hard way. Or you can just take off your shirt and maybe it wont get ripped.”

            “Or I could leave.”  He didn’t want to ruin the night but he wasn’t entirely sure where the night was going.

            “Seth? Please?  I don’t want to swim alone!”  Why was she so aggressive?  Seth was starting not to like aggressive women.  But it was dark; maybe she wouldn’t see the red lines.

            “Ok fine.”  He started to unbutton his shirt. His fingers took longer then they should have.  Shaking he pulled the shirt off and laid it on the bench, the same with his pants and socks.  A smile stretched across his face.  Maybe he would get kissed tonight.  It made sense, they were both half-naked.  Turning he made to fold his arms, hopefully covering up his scars. 

            “Oh my…” Chloe breathed, her eyes large in shock.  Her hand came up to her mouth.  Seth grabbed his shirt to cover his exposed arms. 

            He hated himself for letting it go this far.  He knew she would see them.  But then didn’t he want her to?  It was her reaction that he hated himself for.  Trust no one.  Hadn’t his mother taught him that?  “I…” there was a lump in his throat.  He bit his lip and pressed his eyes closed.  She wasn’t worth a tear.  No one was.

            “Seth…” she touched his shoulder.  “Hey, look at me.”  She said.

            “Why? So you can show me how disgusted you are?”

            She pulled him around and then pulled him into a hug.  Seth tensed up.  He did like hugs.  She squeezed tighter and he let go.  He felt his shoulders relax. “Hey it’s ok.  I don’t care.” She whispered in his ear.

            “I guess you get to see who I really am.”  He stepped back and threw down the shirt that was still clenched in his hands.  He let the moonlight illuminate his arms.  “This is who I am.”

            “This…” she stepped towards him and touched his scares with her finger tips. “This is not you…Seth, you are so much more then these little red lines.”  She laid her hand on his chest.  “This is who you are.  This is the boy that I like.”  Chloe looked him in the eyes as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

            “Why…no…Chloe, I…”  He looked this beautiful girl in the eyes and he had no idea why she was doing this.  Why would she be nice to him.  No one cared about him.  His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Tha…thank you.”

            She looked at him dead in the eyes and said, “Just promise me one thing.  No more of that.”
            “Right now…I don’t think I ever want to again.”  He thought of how good it would feel to throw that damned razor away.  Yet how hard it would be.  And there he stood in his boxers, thinking about changing his life.  Chloe giggled softly.

            “Well we look like idiots just standing here, lets get into the water.” She grabbed his hand and led his to the water.  “Oh its cold!” she said as her toes touched the surface.

            “Well only one way to get used to it…”

            “Oh no! NO!” She squealed as he wrapped her up in his arms and jumped into the deeper water.  They came up laughing.  Seth was smiling bigger then he had ever really smiled since before his father had left him alone.  Since before he had cut himself.  She clung onto his neck and they just looked at each other smiling.

            Suddenly there was an explosion of red light above their heads.  The firework show started with thousands of tiny red meteorites falling through the sky.  It took Seth a few seconds to take his eyes off Chloe’s upturned face to see them.  Finally something within Seth filled.  He didn’t feel like a loser anymore.  They both floated there in a sea of fireworks.  The red lines on his arm just a reminder of a past that was gone. He smiled as the red fireworks reached into the limits of his possibilities.  

Two Years

I miss it everyday

In every possible way

Two years well spent

How fast they came and went!

I miss Them all the time

Even if they gave me Mayo with lime!

I wish I was still there

Then life would not so err

I miss how I used to feel

The spirit was oh so real!

A white shirt and an ugly tie

My best friend by my side

I miss the miracles I saw

How I could speak with no flaw

And life was so blissful and right

Now I have to use all my might

I miss it everyday

In every possible way

Two years well spent

Others don’t know how much they meant

Taboo

When Dan woke up that morning he had no intention of dying.  He stopped by his favorite coffee shop on his way to class.  A caramel mocha with sprinkles, this last month he had discovered coffee and liked it.  Dan knew the sprinkles didn’t change the taste at all, but they looked cool.   That’s the kind of guy Dan was, he was spontaneous, easily distracted and he loved psychological experiments.  His whole life was an experiment now.   He had come from a very close nit family, a very conservative family.  His father and mother had met at college, and they had secured Dan a spot there as well.  And as the obedient oldest child he had gone there.  So he made his way to his class that morning hoping no one would notice his coffee.  If asked he was going to have to answer that it was coffee, which didn't bode to well.  You see coffee was taboo at this college, and that was Dan’s experiment this month.  Taboology as he called it.  He wanted to see just how far he could push the bubble in the very conservative and very republican school, well the whole town was as a matter of fact.  His dark blond hair was longer then he liked, but that was all part of the act.  As was his new wardrobe, black and gray…gray and black.  Now the affect he was going for wasn’t to appear gothic, but rather to appear more liberal.  That was Dan’s favorite word for doing taboo things here.   Being liberal.  So with his now cooling coffee he sat in the back of his poetry class.  Today was the culmination of a month’s preparation and of acting a part.  He was about to shove dynamite down his classmate’s throats and laugh at their reaction.  Well that’s what he had envisioned doing.  He had even thought to write an article about it.

            Entitled “Taboo”, this poem was the ultimate form of rebellion that an English student had.  He smirked to himself when the teacher asked for volunteers to have their poems read aloud.  Dan raised his hand, the clear polished nails glittered a little in the light making Dan cringe.  Not even he liked that, but alas it was part of the liberal character that he was playing.

            “Dan.  Great, who do you want to read your poem?”  The teacher asked happy to see someone putting himself out there to be critiqued by the class. 

            Dan scanned the room, then seeing his target he selected the most uptight girl in the class, whom he was actually quite fond of.  “Shelley? Would you?” He asked politely. 

            From behind him and to the left he heard a whispered scoff.  “Of course he picks a girl…queer.”  It made Dan smile to himself, so his acting was paying off.  His girlfriend Samantha would like that one.

            Shelley arose and smiled softly at Dan and took his poem from his outstretched hand.  His heart started to race.  Here it comes.

            Shelley started, “Taboo…” She read the title.  Then with a sharp intake of breath she glanced up at Dan, who nodded to reassure her.  “Umm…” her cheeks became a crimson color. “Taboo…In the dark absence of light/My heart takes flight…” then red faced and stuttering she read poetry that seemed more the creation of Anne Rice then that of a conservative religious student.  With every line the descriptions became more crude and disgusting.  Taboo as described in graphic detail.  Sex, drugs, atheism and just about everything else that Dan could think of to piss off everyone in the class was included.  He laughed at himself when the teacher stood before the poem was finished and ripped the paper out of Shelley’s hands.

            “That is quite enough!” He protested like a catholic nun.  Then there was silence…utter silence in the class.

            Now it was time for Dan to observe the effect his poem and his month of acting would have.  He felt eyes on him.  Angry eyes.  He smiled to himself.  “And so it begins…” he whispered to closed ears.

            Ten o’clock that night Samantha and Dan made their way to a party.  Dan had hoped he could leave the act at home that night, today was Samantha’s birthday and they were going to have a great time.  But when Dan had heard who was going to be at the party he had stopped by the store to pick up a 6-pack of Budweiser.  He didn’t drink the stuff, wasn’t much of a beer guy.   Samantha had chuckled and asked, “So when is this experiment going to end?”

            “Well, I had the poem read this morning…well most of it. Dr. Thatch wouldn’t let Shelley finish it! I had thought to end it then, but this is just too good to ask for.  Don’t worry babe come morning I will go get a haircut and I will be the old me again.”

            She laughed again “Good! I’ve missed you babe… I bet the poem was good.”

            “After tonight it’s all just observe and laugh.”  Dan paid for the beer and they made their way to the party.

            They walked into the party and the music almost stopped.  Everyone stared at Dan.  He leaned and said to Samantha, “Looks like the rumors are spreading already.  Amazing how that happens at a school with over thirty thousand students!”

She just laughed; her long brown hair fell into her line of sight.  Dan brushed it away and gave her a quick peck on the lips.  She would get her birthday kiss later.  She smiled softly.

            “Oh he’s just doing that so we think he’s not gay!” a religious jock yelled from the crowd.  Religious jocks are what Dan referred to as mindless bible heads that wore shirts like they were in a pride parade.  Closed-minded folk.  He was sure they were a little confused about their own sexuality.

            The real Dan came through the act a little, “Fuck you!” then he laid a big wet kiss on Samantha and there was a nervous laugh from half the crowd.

            “What did you just say you little A-hole?” the clearly stronger man shot back.  So there was going to be more to this.  Dan liked how this was unfolding, perfect for an essay.  It showed the ignorance and hatred that taboo caused.

            “A-hole? I believe its ass hole…or wait do you not swear?”  Dan asked in a mocking voice.  He turned from Samantha’s beautiful but disapproving smile and towards the guy who would be the focal point of his write up about this whole experiment.  He turned right into a large fist that knocked him on his back.

             A little dazed he tried to get up, but the other man was on him with flying fist.  Dan tried to bring his hands up block the punches but others grabbed them.  He was pulled to his feet.  Samantha was screaming at them to stop.  They didn’t. 

            “Lets show this little rebel what happens to those who rebel against what’s right!”  Dan looked forward at the crowd and saw that he was in deep shit.

            “Woa guys! Lets just calm down a little bit.  I brought some beer, I’m sure we can share it!” Dan wasn’t quite sure why he added the beer jibe – he knew no one there drank.  It seemed like it would loosen the tension a little.  It didn’t.

            Five minutes later Samantha held Dan’s limp body screaming for someone to call the cops.  Nobody moved.  They had just killed him and they didn’t know what to do.  They began to rationalize what had happened.  She heard someone say, “He was asking for it being that way.”  

            Samantha cried into his lifeless chest and a word came to her racing mind. Taboo.

The Evolution of a Story

OK so this is how my Halloween story developed over time...its kinda fun to see.


First Draft:

Blood made its way slowly down the captain’s face.  Blurring his vision to the horror in front of him.  His hands were tied behind his back.  His head bleeding from the cut that whatever had attacked his two crewmen and his first mate had hit him with.   He shook violently as he saw the old looking man bend over the huge caldron of boiling water.  This thing that had attacked him was bare-skinned from the waist up. He wore what seemed to be white sailor pants but were now drenched red and brown.  His skin was white, like he hadn’t been in the sun in years.  His long fingers were accentuated by the sharpened black nails that protruded from their ends.  His eyes were dark and evil.  When Captain Bradford looked into them he saw death. 

            This thing busied itself with preparations for something that the captain wouldn’t let himself imagine.  He thought of the ship that he had left ship wrecked just off shore this tropical island.  He was sure it was still dark outside, just hours since he and a few of his men had come ashore to find help.  Help that was now helping itself to them.  The captain laughed at the irony of it all.  A low cruel laugh that comes from a man who is losing his mind. 

            All his life all he had wanted to be was a captain of a merchant vessel.  Now all he wanted was to be home in England.  But he knew he would never leave this hellish place.  Wouldn’t even see the sun rise again.  He laughed because it was all over.  All his dreams had fallen to this nightmare that controlled everything present to him.

            “Captain!  By Jove Captain! Help me!” Samuel’s insane scream brought the captain to his surrounding.   Captain Bradford watched helpless as the thing dragged the half –dead first mate of the Patuna to the caldron.  A trail of blood was left behind him.  The creature laughed again.  A vicious and disgusting laugh that made the captain cringe further into the corner.   He turned his head away from the nauseating scene before him.

            The blood numbing scream that erupted from Samuel’s lips as his body was thrust into the boiling water forced the captain into insanity.  He laughed.  

            Eyes wide, he stood, the cut on his head throbbed but he didn’t feel it anymore.  He made his way over to the boiling body as the demonic figure watched him, interested in what he was going to do.  Then, extending his hand out to the beast he was helped into the caldron and without a wince submerged himself and Samuel never to return to the surface.

            Timmy, the hungry old man, smiled as he watched his stew brew and his stomach growled.

Second:

Blood slowly slithered down the captain’s gaunt face.  He felt a searing stinging above his right eye, the hot blood warming his cold skin.  His vision blurred to the horror in front of him.  His hands were tied behind his back.  He shook violently as he saw what looked like a decrepit old man bent over the huge caldron of boiling water.  This thing that had ensnared him was bare-skinned from the waist up. He wore what used to be white sailor pants that were now tattered shorts discolored red and brown.  His skin was white, like he had never seen the glory of the sun.  His long blackened fingers were accentuated by the sharpened yellow nails that protruded from them.  His eyes were dark yet they seemed joyful as if he was happy.  When Captain Bradford looked into those black eyes he saw his death.

            This thing busied itself with preparations for something that the captain wouldn’t let himself imagine.  He thought of the ship that he had left ship wrecked just off shore this tropical island.  He was sure it was still dark outside, just hours since he and a few of his men had come ashore to find help.  The help that was now helping itself to them.  The captain wanted to vomit at the irony.  For the last hour he had tried every way to escape but had failed.   

            All his life he had wanted to be a captain of a merchant vessel.  Now all he wanted was to be home in England.  But he knew he would never leave this hellish place.  Wouldn’t even see the sun rise again.  He cried because it was all over.  All his dreams had fallen to this nightmare that controlled everything present to him.

            “Captain!  By Jove…Captain! Help me!” Samuel’s insane scream brought the captain to his surrounding.   Captain Bradford watched helplessly as the demonic thing dragged his half–dead First Mate of the Patuna to the caldron.  A trail of blood was left on the dirt behind him.  The creature laughed a vicious and disgusting laugh that made the captain cringe harder against the wall.   He turned his head away from the revolting scene before him.

            A deafening dead man’s scream erupted from Samuel’s lips as his body was thrust into the boiling water forcing the captain to laugh.  He laughed a low cruel laugh that comes from a man who has lost his mind.  

            Slowly he stood, his body numb to the multiple injuries it had.  He limped and dragged his broken left leg over to the boiling body as the demonic figure watched him, interested in what he was going to do.  Then, extending his hand out to the beast he was helped into the caldron and without a wince submerged himself and the still screaming Samuel under.   The captain had always known he would die in water.

            Eroklin’s face distorted into an eager smile as he tested his brewing stew.  He hadn’t eaten in days and his stomach growled at the smell of a mouth-watering dinner.

Third:

Blood slowly slithered down the captain’s scared face.  His eyes too scared to shut.  Eroklin liked that.  The fear that his victims always showed on their faces.   It had been so long since Englishmen had made their way to Eroklin’s island.  As he prepared the first Englishman for his stew, Eroklin was somewhat drawn to this captain.  He was different then the others he had seen before.  Even as the blood engulfed almost half of his face, he made no attempt to wipe it away.   The captain wore nice clothes.  He was a dignified rich man.  Eroklin respected him for that, but hated that this meant he would be more fat then meat.  Eroklin wore old sailor pants, that at one time were white, but after almost 5 years of being trapped on this island had become brown and red.  Brown from dirt, red from his chosen food source.   Eroklin was a tired man, but he was strong enough to catch his scared prey.  His hands were discolored black, he didn’t know why, but he didn’t like them until he saw that they scared his prey when they saw them.  He had sharpened his nails to make them to accentuate that fear.  Eroklin looked at his reflection in the water that was on the verge of boiling in a large caldron.  His eyes, dark and lonely, showed the sublime happiness that comes as one prepares a feast.  He remembered seeing the same joy in his mother’s eyes when she would prepare Christmas dinner before his life had changed.  Back when his name was Joseph.  Now he was here, and he was preparing his own feast.

            Eroklin decided to save the captain till later and start with the younger, healthier Englishman.  He grabbed his knife and approached the unconscious man.  He stabbed him in the right shoulder, in the soft spot surrounded by bones.  Eroklin had discovered long ago that you could drag a full man’s weight using this spot and not have the knife cut through the body.

            The man awoke to the pain and screamed.  It was such an eerie sound even to Eroklin.  “Captain!  My God…Captain! Help me!”  The young man’s eyes were fixed on his captain’s face.  The captain pushed himself up against the wall, trying to get away from this scene that must have seen scarier then it really was.  But then again the men had tried to escape many times, they were valiant men.  The had fought for their lives, they seemed to have had a reason to live.  Eroklin didn’t care, he too needed to live.  Eroklin laughed to himself as he continued his work.  He loved the sound of utter desperation. 

            The sound that erupted from the dying man’s lips as Eroklin placed him into the boiling water was shocking even to him.  Some screamed like women, but this Englishman had a baritone scream.  Eroklin liked that.  Then Eroklin heard something that utterly surprised him.  The captain began to laugh a low cruel laugh; it was the laugh of crazy man.  Eroklin stopped and looked at the captain who was making his way to the caldron.  He limped heavily, the cracking of his right leg made Eroklin cringe; he hated the sound of a broken bone.  But the captain seemed valiant in his newfound insanity.  His full beard was darker on the right side from the blood that coated it.  With every step he came closer to Eroklin, but looked at the caldron.   Eroklin had never seen this before, was he going to try to escape?  Eroklin grabbed the knife again just incase.  But something told him that this man was broken, that he wasn’t there anymore.   The Englishman that was boiling reached out to his captain, but the captain reached out to Eroklin.  Eroklin took in the captain’s demeanor.  Did he want help into the caldron? Eroklin laughed, this was the greatest thing he had seen in years.  He grabbed the captain’s hand gently, the captain’s hand was cold.  Then the captain looked into Eroklin’s eyes and said “I always knew I would die in water.”  Then he laughed again as he half threw himself into the boiling water.  A little water splashed on Eroklin, burning him.  The captain grabbed the screaming Englishman and pulled him under the boiling water.   Eroklin watched as his stew began to take form, his feast preparations now underway.

Fourth:

Blood slowly slithered down the captain’s face.  His eyes too scared to shut.  Eroklin liked that.  The fear that his victims always showed on their faces.   It had been so long since Englishmen had made their way to Eroklin’s island.  As he prepared his stew, Eroklin was somewhat drawn to this captain.  He was different then the others he had seen before, Eroklin couldn’t figure out why.  Even as the blood engulfed almost half of his face, he made no attempt to wipe it away.   The captain wore nice clothes.  He was a dignified rich man.  Eroklin respected him for that, but hated that this meant he would be more fat then meat.  Eroklin wore old sailor pants, that at one time were white, but after almost 5 years of being trapped on this island had become brown from the earth and red from his food.  Eroklin was a tired man, but he was strong enough to catch his scared prey.  Eroklin looked at his reflection in the water that was on the verge of boiling in a large caldron.  His eyes, dark and lonely, showed the sublime happiness that comes as one prepares a feast.  He remembered seeing the same joy in his mother’s eyes when she would prepare Christmas dinner before his life had changed.  Back when his name was Joseph.  Now he was here, and he was preparing his own feast.

            Eroklin decided to save the captain till later and started with the younger, healthier man, an officer he assumed.  He grabbed his knife and approached the unconscious man.  He stabbed him in the right shoulder, in the soft spot surrounded by bones.  Eroklin had discovered long ago that you could drag a full man’s weight using this spot and the knife wouldn’t cut through.

            The man awoke to the pain and screamed.  It was such an eerie sound even to Eroklin.  “Captain!  My God…Captain! Help me!”  The young man’s eyes were fixed on his captain’s face.  Eroklin laughed to himself as he continued his work.  He loved the sound of desperation. 

            The sound that erupted from the dying man’s lips as Eroklin forced him into the boiling water was shocking even to him.  Some screamed like women, but this Englishman had a baritone scream.  Eroklin liked that.   The man splashed some boiling water onto Eroklin, burning him.  Eroklin retaliated with a club until the man was motionless.  Then Eroklin heard something that surprised him.  To his back he heard the captain begin to laugh a low cruel laugh; it was the laugh of a broken man.  Eroklin stopped and looked at the captain who was making his way to the caldron.  He limped heavily, the cracking of his right leg made Eroklin cringe; he hated the sound of a broken bone.  But the captain seemed valiant in his newfound insanity.  With every step he came closer to Eroklin, but didn’t take his eyes off the caldron.   Eroklin had never seen this before, was he going to try to escape?  Eroklin grabbed the knife again just incase.  But something told him that this man was broken, that he wasn’t trying anymore.   The captain looked at Eroklin like a lamb, dumb. 

            Eroklin took in the captain’s demeanor.  Did he want help into the caldron? Eroklin laughed, this was the greatest thing he had seen in a very long time.  Light flickered on Eroklin’s face from the cooking fire, allowing the captain to really see him for the first time.  The captain’s face changed dramatically.  His breathing quickened.  His hand reached out to Eroklin’s face.  Eroklin recoiled.

            “Joseph?” the captain whispered, seeing his friend who had died at sea years before.

            Panic rushed through Eroklin.  His hands shook.  He recognized him now, too.  But now it was to late, Joseph was dead.  Eroklin thrust the knife deep into the captain’s abdomen.  Warm blood flowed as Eroklin pushed his old friend Captain Bradford Heaton into the caldron.  

Who is this Man?

Who is this man, torn and broken?
Forgotten, spit upon, heart broken
Thought of not and cast aside
Oh, how could one abide?
Crying and pleading evermore
Feebly falling to the floor
Looking hopefully to his side
For that Man that´ll ever guide.
Paying the Price to help the Heathen
Crying for fear to never ´gain see´em.

Who was this man who had to learn?
Line upon line he´d ever yearn.
Looking for that to come.
Yet mocked for being ever too young.
Never able to escape the Pagan
He hungered for that glorious Haven.
Knowing exactly who he´d become
With all that in between long gone.
Yet in his heart would ever burn
For that Truth he´d yet to earn.


On the Mount this man shall stand.
With all his might he´ll break the band
Of the death which holds him tight
Ever dispersing the True Light
The Man of Christ to hold his Cross
Yet never able to see across
The veil of God which holds his sight.
Paying the Price of a Widow´s Mite.
And with all his might, he can
Help those who dwell within his Hand.

And through the Looking Glass I see
That this man was always me!
Even through all the pain and guile
I can see it was worth my while.
And all that I must surly know
Never learned before life´s first snow.
Yet that Abiding Man to guide
He´ll pull me gently to His side,
And to my Soul His words intone
“Well done my Son, for Thee I did Atone”

Playing with a picture editor...

Duplicity

Mark followed her down the crowded street.  His perfectly manicured hands sweat as he walked behind the girl of his desire; she always had this affect on him.   He shifted his gaze, scanning the faces of the judgmental crowed that seemed to critique his every movement.  They saw his tall, strong frame, his dark brown, almost black hair, and his piercing green eyes.  It made him feel uncomfortable.  Even though he probably could have pulled off being a model for some reputable agency here in the Big Apple.  But the idea of having to pose nude, or close to it, was too much for him.  He thought of himself as a decent man.  He had high moral standards.  He went to church every once and awhile.  

            He closed in on the pretty woman who was scurrying dartingly through the crowd.   She seemed agitated.   She was wearing jogging pants and a loose blue sweatshirt.  Nothing was flattering about what she wore, but she seemed to be able to pull it off.   As Mark got within a foot of her he contorted his face into a pleasant smile and grabbed her shoulder.  She didn’t scream, but froze at his touch.  She tensed even more as she turned to see who it was.  Mark took note that she didn’t scream. That was good.

            “Mark! Jesus you scared the hell out of me!”  She lunged at him and wrapped her arms around him.   “I was calling you this morning. Where were you?”  She pulled back from hugging him and looked him in the eyes.

            “Oh sorry babe, I was at work.”  He looked closer at her and noticed she had been crying.  “What happened babe?  You look like shit!” He was too honest.  He wished he hadn’t said that.

            “…Uh…” She was thinking too much about it, Mark hated himself for being so honest with her, “Well its Fletcher.  I think he’s dead.  I found his collar but I couldn’t find him!”  She was sadder then Mark had ever seen her.  Fletcher was a disgusting red haired cat that Mark hated.

            “What?”

            “I think that someone has been following me.  Mark, I’m kinda scared.”  She looked at him, longing for him to help her.  Mark liked that.  He liked being the one to help.  He put his right arm around her to comfort her, his left hand shook violently, he put it behind his back and out of view. 

            He led her to his place so they could talk about what had happened.  The whole time he voice nagged on and on about that damn cat.  Mark felt a little irked that she seemed to love to tell him every little detail.  He detailed description of what she found that morning was filled it lots of “likes” and “umms” and other things that stupid blonds say.

            When they got inside his apartment Mark saw his chance to get away from her pleading him to believe that someone was stalking her.  What did she know about stalking? “Hey babe, just sit down and take a breath, it’s going to be ok.  Do you want some iced tea?”

            Before he heard her answer he went into the kitchen and started to grab a glass for the tea.  As he pored it her voice floated viscously through the air.  “Hey Mark give me extra ice.”  He went to the freezer and opened it.  “Hon, I just wanna see my cat again, I am like so alone without him!” He looked into the freezer and saw his mornings work.  Fletcher’s red body sat wrapped in plastic next the icemaker.  He grabbed some ice and dropped it into the cup of iced tea.  “I just like wanna see him again!” Her voice was sad.  Mark smiled.

            Mark made his way down the hallway back to where she was as the added pill dissolved into the iced tea.  “Don’t worry babe, you will see him soon.”

In the Solitude of a War-Zone

There are things that a child sees that change them forever.  Violence can never be forgotten, can never be erased. In nineteen twenty-one a young boy, Binkley, takes a hatchet and opens a large box of ammunition.  He hears the gunfire coming from all directions.   He smells the houses in his neighborhood burning to the ground.  He hears planes fly overhead; he sees people cringe in fear as those planes drop homemade bombs on their homes and businesses. 

            It had all begun hours before when, in a chaotic rush, Binkley was forced out of the Black’s high school year-end celebration and was first told of the ‘race-riot’. 

Binkley was unaware that at the same time, across town, a mob of whites was violently protesting the release of a black boy who had allegedly assaulted a white woman.  Whether or not the woman had actually been assaulted was beside the point.  The white mob was determined that ‘the damn nigger was gunna get himself lynched’.  The blacks formed a mob at the same time to save their brother in need.   Hatred fed the stream of anger that would soon overflow and flood the whole of the city in violence.

            Now, hours later, Binkley was sitting on the cold ground, forcing away the tears.   At the beginning of this night he didn’t understand what was happening, but that was before.  Now he knew he couldn’t cry.  He had to do his part.  His father had brought him to fight off the whites and protect the neighborhood of friends.  Friends that were now fleeing from the city like rats fleeing the water that threatened to engulf them.  Barefoot and scared, they crossed downed power lines as they ran from the whites that burned their houses, destroying their lives.

             Binkley was a part of this now.  He was going to protect his family, his people.  He fumbles with the gun as he loads it.  The freezing bullets numb his fingers; the bullets slicing through the air numb his mind.   As he hands the gun to an older man who was fighting off the whites, Binkley sees a man fall to the ground clutching his chest; joining the others who had already fallen. 

            Now, an hour after the National Guard had been dispatched, there are still whites driving through the neighborhood shooting randomly at whatever shadow they could see move.  Could handguns and rifles hold them off?  If that dispatched Guard wasn’t going to help them, then who would?  He is eleven years old and trapped in the cold solitude of a war-zone.

            An explosion to his right makes him jump.  His hands shake as he tries to open a new box of ammunition to reload the guns protecting his neighborhood.  Bullets slip to the ground as he loads a gun with frozen hands.  Binkley can see his old life fleeing from this place.  This place where children load guns to protect the people they love.  He forces in the last bullet of the gun’s clip and his hands stop shaking.  The cold he felt and the sounds he heard slowly fade from his mind.  He stands undaunted and determined as he passes the gun off to his right.  

Addiction's Peak

Heart racing faster than a hummingbird's wings. A click.

Empty and hopeless your eyes fix on the unclean screen.
A mountain of smut that begs you to climb
The higher you climb the more numb your heart becomes
The carnal within starts to over power and win

Blood red hands from the rocks that cant hold you back
The duplicitous heart begins to calm
From the refreshing dark night, the damning screen's glow.
Nothing more familiar can stop the tick of the clock
At mountain's edge.  At Addiction's Peak!

No going back, still no assault of regret.
Secretive. Unscrupulous you remain

Off the edge you fly, or is it that you fall?

Before the screen grows dim, tremors begin.

Hurried hands, a climb's memory must erase

The numbness fades, a loathsome crippled heart remains!
Imploding regret!  A mountain's weight constant on your chest.
You push the mountain far from your mind.
Yet always remember its trailhead, ready fro another climb.