the most scary things

are usually the most ordinary

being left behind

is one of my most treasured monsters

- Eleonore

I stand there for a longer while, my body so stiff and tight that it resembles a bizarre granite sculpture, my eyes staring at the setting sun until the sky outside the window turns completely dark, heavy clouds bringing rain that falls down to the hectic, busy streets, while my mind wanders around two unexpected conversations I had. My eyebrows furrow tightly together at the fact that I could still be stunned by the things happening in my life. It seemed I had seen it all, stepping on the shaky grounds of grief and supernatural elements blending so deeply into my existence. And yet the ordinary events tended to still catch me off guard. I think as Charlie's voice still echoes in my head, his gentle stare on me as he shared the news with me just the day before. I have been so occupied with all the craziness that the mundane facts and situations started to acquire a magical ability to blur out from my mind. I gaze at the street below, my eyes following the reckless people who decided to engage the chill of the evening that has become way too eager to earn the Winter title before the calendar could - and groan slightly as my brain replays the conversations I had never planned to have.

With everything going on, I forgot to tell you before. You will be pleased to hear that Mrs. Wilson is doing better, and her doctor officially signed her out yesterday. With her age and physical state, she will still need help getting around, but I also know the daughter already made arrangements for a part-time home nurse who will be checking up on her, assisting her with anything she needs, and making sure she regularly eats and gets stronger.

I remember blinking several times before I could utter any reasonable response, watching his hands gesture with enthusiasm by the cafeteria table as he reported the hospital newsletter to me.

She left?

My question seemed a bit hollow as something tightened in my chest, invisible weights making me sink deeper into the red plastic chair I was sitting on.

She was signed out because she's doing better.

Charlie corrected me - slowly, patiently, and then frowned, hearing the tones in my voice.

I thought you would be happy for her.

I felt bad for my reaction. I felt bad for still having traces of abandoned issues even after all these years; feeling as if once again I was somehow left behind. It didn't make any sense to react like that, but it was stronger than me. I got so used to Clair being around, safely in the same room and the same bed that her sudden absence caused a small gap in my body, locating itself like several sharp splinters between my ribs, and causing me to shift uncomfortably in the chair. Once again, you got attached, silly girl. I sighed and trambled a bit, frustrated, feeling like a spoiled child - a child who was over-sensitive to the world around her in so, so many ways. I swallowed nervously but managed to put myself together, my embarrassment perspiring through my skin like unwanted sweat.

No, I am happy. Trust me, I am.

Your face seems to contradict your words.

I grimaced slightly, hoping he didn't notice.

Charlie, I'm a complicated paradox, no point in looking too deeply into that pit of despair.

Nora.

Just one word and I heard all the questions he had in his head, and it had nothing to do with my random abilities that appeared whenever they wanted to - besides, my questionable "powers" didn't seem to penetrate his serious-minded, thick skull. Not that it actually worked on command at any time, it was more a case of someone wanting to share thoughts or feelings with me. Well, I didn't think anyone really realized that they left an open door for me; it usually just felt like tuning into a piracy radio station when my antenna hit the right wavelength, most times by pure accident. I remember getting lost in all those speculations until being abruptly brought back when I finally noticed Charlie's stare losing its tolerance for the extended silence.

You just caught me off guard. I expected her to still be in her room, in her bed.

He looked at me as if scanning me from top to bottom, his expression turning surprised at first, and then softening a bit.

It's because she didn't say goodbye.

It wasn't really a question, more of a statement, and my face very quickly turned into unflattering shades of crimson. I didn't say anything in response. What was there really to say?

It's okay to miss someone. But the important thing is that she's doing better and that Connie and Clair's granddaughter could take her home.

I nodded, knowing that he was right.

She left you something before they left.

He said unexpectedly and pulled something from the front pocket of his beige scrubs. He put a small, yellowed envelope with my name elegantly handwritten on it on the table between us. I thought of Clair's shaky hands and felt that her daughter must have written it for her. With some hesitation, I reached for the envelope, sliding it slowly towards me, feeling a certain weight to it that I was not expecting. I eyed Charlie suspiciously for a moment and then sighed, opening the little rectangle, feeling it was time to finally act like an adult. My eyes grew wider as I fished out a delicate round shape; it was gold and marked with tiny vines and roses on the outside, while the inside held a miniature sign on its surface that took up the entire space of the ring. I narrowed my eyebrows and brought the ring closer to my face until the words came into focus. "May we always bloom for each other under the Autumn sun.". I stared in disbelief at the object in my hand, as if it could burn a hole in my skin.

Her wedding ring??

Even though my voice was barely a croaked whisper, it seemed to bounce off all the walls as if I had screamed the question. Charlie pursed his lips as if holding back a grin and then pointed to the envelope. I watched him without understanding what he meant, until he made a circle gesture, prompting me to turn it around. I did what I was told and gazed at an old-fashioned, more messy, and slightly uneven handwriting.

"Too wide now for my bony fingers anyhow. It will have better use on your hand."

I played around with the ring, shifting it in every direction and watching as the light cascaded beautifully against its surface, staring at it with growing disbelief.

I don't understand. Why would she give this to me, Charlie? Even if the ring was too loose for her fingers, and for some bizarre reason she no longer felt the need to wear it it was her daughter that should be wearing it. Or her grandaughter, or anyone from the family... anyone but me.

He looked at me as if searching for something.

But it's you that she wanted to gifted to.

I shook my head repeatedly gazing at the ring. And then my stare shifted to my name on the envelope making me even more confused as a realization hit me over the head.

And Conne accepted the idea. They both did.

Slowly, I looked up at Charlie, and he nodded calmly.

It's what they decided, and that's that. "No returns, I'm afraid." Connie's words, not mine.

He smiled at me gently, and I caved in, slouching against the chair and feeling that there was no more reason to fight against the current. I opened my hand carefully and slid it on the second finger of the left hand; it fitted perfectly. I inhaled deeper, knowing exactly and painfully what the golden band represented, and quickly moved it to my other hand.

Why would she do it, though?

My eyes met Charlie, and he shrugged.

Sometimes, there is no reason to dig too deeply, Nora. Just like you said before.

His eyes stayed on me for a while, and then he reached for my hand and took it, his thumb sliding against the ring.

You opened your heart to her, and so did she. And this is her stating it.

I felt emotions well up in me, feelings like slushing waves moving against my stormy core, my gaze fogging up as tears quickly filled my eyes. I took away my hand from his and stared at the golden band as if it held all the answers I was searching for.

You really think so?

I don't think it. I know it. And because they predicted your responses, Connie left their home phone number. Would you like it?

He unblocked his phone and after a few seconds, showed me the number on the screen. I grabbed his phone without asking and quickly stood up.

I need a moment.

He nodded, not surprised, and returned to his meal, leaving me to my own doings. I walked away to the big windows that occupied the entire south wall of the cafeteria and stared outside at nature's grey, ugly weather manifest while the ringing sounds filled my ears - tapping my foot as the waiting time seemed to outstretch mercilessly.

The current Wilson and O'Reley residence. How can I help?

An amused, young voice answered, and even though I never met her personally, I knew exactly who it was.

Ah yes... yes. Is Connie around? I mean, Mrs. O'Reley. Sorry.

May I ask who this is?

Eleonore. She knows me from the hospital.

Oh, so you're the tribute volunteer who brought my grandmother back to the land of living, huh?

It seems so. Yes.

I said in my standard awkward way, a tone that usually appeared when I didn't have an actual idea what my game plan was. Cheers to being hot-headed and irrational.

Well, in that case, she just might be around for you. We give miracle workers extra points in this family.

She stated in a still amused tone, but I could tell there were additional emotions and unconcealed gratitude in her voice. I could almost feel the warm energy flowing from her and into my body. It was both a comforting and a surreal feeling to experience. After a moment of silence on the line, I heard a muffled cacophony of shouted questions and answers that led to a low clicking sound.

Eleonore, dear. It's good to hear from you.

Connie sounded slightly out of breath as if she was rushing through many flights of stairs and it made me wonder how big their house actually was.

Same here.

I might not have time today for pleasantries as I'm busy in the kitchen, so let's cut to the chase.

A smile formed on my lips as I heard her tones, making me realize how she and her daughter were more alike than they cared to admit.

Yes, ma'am.

I answered shortly with a smile, saluting her in my mind.

I'm guessing it's about the ring and possible arguments about where it belongs. No need, it's right where it's supposed to be. On your surprisingly pale yet very pretty hand. End of discussion.

I figured as much. But Connie... are you sure? I mean, it's an important family heirloom. Wouldn't it be better for one of you?

First of all, I already have my father's ring.

She started, and suddenly, out of nowhere a memory of her in the hospital struck me, an image of her playing around with a delicate golden necklace with a round, thick band and a tiny cross filling my mind.

But...

And eventually, it will be my daughter's as well. There, problem solved. Am I making myself clear enough?

Her tone was strict and not to be disputed with. I took a deeper breath and said with a resigned tone, knowing I would be beaten and disarmed whatever argument I would use.

Crystal.

Good, perfection. Now, I'm guessing that the other reason for your call is that you missed my mother, the terrorist. A retired one, but still active in her position.

Yes, that as well.

Well, I'm happy to report that for a woman her age she is doing a bit better every single day. We still have our ups and downs but she is definitely more vocal about her needs and demands. I think it's what keeps her going: her well-equipped military qualities. Thankfully, you were never fooled by her delicate exterior and know that our family has their personal general to our display. Not that we have any choice in the matter.

Connie's gentle chuckles carried to my ears, and I was stunned at how much she had changed since I met her, never before being a witness to such a flow of words from her.

But she's a good general to be around.

I could feel softness fill me up as the words left my mouth, love, and care moving around under my skin and reaching the deepest part of my being. And I knew that Connie heard it too.

She loves you, Eleonore. I do not doubt it.

I could hear her taking a bigger breath, her strong emotions mixing with mine into one combined organism, making me lean my forehead against the cafeteria window for some support, my fingertips leaving prints on the glass, my hand trembling as the cool surface seemed to penetrate my skin right to the bone.

And you have saved her in more ways than one. You saved our family when we needed it the most.

I didn't do much. I just read to her and... listened to the silent grief when she couldn't find words.

I couldn't tell her that I listened to her mother's memories as if they were scenes in a movie. I couldn't tell her that I took her pain in the best way that I could and cradled it until its weight was smaller, and the edges of her sorrow less sharp before I placed it delicately back into her frail arms, repeating it every time I set by her bedside or held her hand. I didn't even realize I was doing it until the ache I felt from her became less heavy, less suffocating. I think that cradling her sorrow and pain helped me deal a bit with my own, healing things in me that I never dared to touch myself. We helped each other in more ways than I could count. And I knew deep down that she brought me strength too. It never ceased to amaze me how two bruised and broken souls could bring light into each other's lives that they lacked on their own.

That was enough. That was enough for her to come back and let us in again after being closed off for so long. We finally got her back.

Connie said in a hushed, slightly muffled voice, and I felt all the unspoken words and feelings that hid underneath, random tiny flashes of visions filling my mind as if delicate butterflies with golden fluttering wings. Memories. Most of them appeared and quickly vanished before I could even fully register them but one lingered long enough for me to hold it gently in my hands. A little girl with fair hair holding her mother's hand as a tall man came back home from work - the soft light of the golden hour surrounding him in amber hues of the setting sun as he walked towards them... I only saw the outlines of his silhouette but I knew him. I knew them all. At that moment waves of love cascaded down my entire body, circulating in my bloodstream and nestled in my chest, filling it with a kind of warmth that every one of us yearns for. I wrapped my free arm around my waist getting lost in the comfort of the memory, and feeling teardrops fall down my cheeks and mark the cool glass.

I know how much you missed her when she closed up on everyone. And I know that for a while it felt like you lost them both. But you didn't.

I said softly, barely stopping myself from speaking the words that filled my heart, blooming like rich luscious vines between my ribs. She loves you, and so does he, I see it in the way he looked at you when he saw your face every time he came back home. That kind of love, it swells up in you, the kind of love that makes you feel safe, so safe that nothing could ever harm you. I felt the words waiting to flow out of me like a rushing river but I held it all in. Almost.

I feel how much Clair loved your father, and there were times when I felt it so strongly that I could nearly touch the love that came from him even though I never had the privilege to meet him in person. But that love... I feel it around you too as if it never left. As if he's still keeping you safe.

A heavy silence fell down between us and instantly I felt angry with myself for not shutting up in time.

I'm sorry, Connie. I shouldn't have said that. Sometimes I just seem to sense more than I should. I can't explain it. Just ignore me and blame it on temporary insanity.

No...

Connie choked out and I shrunk a bit inside of myself feeling all of her emotions ran over me like stampeding wild horses, dust settling everywhere, covering my hair, my clothes, my lungs. Digging me deep into the ground beneath me.

No... no. Thank you. I don't know how you could have possibly known all of that, FELT all of that but... But thank you, Eleonore. Just... thank you.

She broke off and I could hear her cry, sobbing softly into the receiver, holding back the sound of it as much as she could as if not wanting to worry her daughter or anyone else in the house. I felt the blend of pain and relief cascade out of her, washing over the wounds that were left there after her father was gone. It felt almost as if my words brought him closer to her again, as if at that moment he had joined her for one more warm embrace. And I saw it in my mind. I saw her surrendering into that embrace, I watched her come back home after a very long time. And it wasn't until I felt Charlie's gentle and supporting hand on my shoulder and gazed at my own reflection in the window that I realized it wasn't just Connie's sobs on the other side of the line that I was hearing. No, they were mine as well, streaking down my face in a rushing, overwhelmed way. I didn't turn back to him, just watched his eyes in the glass, as he listened patiently to both my cries and Connie's in my ear, letting us both decompress whatever it was that we had to go through. And we did. Eventually, we said our gentle goodbyes, smiling at the incredible relief that we both felt afterward.

I leaned into Charlie and he let myself sink into him until I found my footing again, until I was once again made of one body and one beating heart, and not two.

_ _ _ _ _

Suddenly, something catches my attention, causing me to return to the present. I stir a bit as the noises of the rain mix with new sounds; a faint vibration of a child's soft snores. I look back at Emily's little body bundled up in a few blankets on a big, comfy sofa, a ridiculous amount of stuffed animals guarding her safety as she sleeps; the blue lights of the TV coloring her delicate, relaxed features. Mmm, babysitting duties while her mother is at a local art gallery, showcasing her newest paintings - rich and wild in color, luscious as one was touching and sinking into a rain forest. Hypnotizing in its power. I was never too aware of how to pursue and take in art in the "right way" but her's spoke to me, it always has and that hasn't changed. My admiration for my best friend and her talents has only grown over the years that I've known her.

I smile and sit down on the sofa next to Emily's petit form, my fingers moving gently through her blond, messy locks that remind me so much of Cara's hair, and gaze at her with wonder. If only I was allowed such rest, such peace - I think and yawn loudly, rubbing my eyes and trying to remember when was the last time I slept more than two hours in a row. The answer doesn't come, too difficult to drag out of the exhausted, dark corners of my mind. Slowly, I shift and roll into a ball next to the little warm body that seemed to always have a soothing effect on me. My own dosage of morphine that did not require stealing or lies. Pure, not yet stained energy that promised to hold back the demons, to restrict the monsters from under the bed even if just for now.

___________________________

This story has proven to be a much longer journey than I have ever anticipated but I still love it every step of the way. Even if often the ride is bumpy and frustrating, it is also extremely rewarding and has let me grow alongside with it. Every time one of my characters evolves and heals, so do I, and I am very grateful for that - even when those characters don't listen to me the way I would like, instead just leave me to follow them and write down their many hilarious, deeply moving and often very bizarre conversations.

So for everyone who still sticks around and checks up on Nora and Charlie, from time to time, THANK YOU, it drives me forward and guides me closer to the finish line, making sure that everything they have to say will be put on paper, and one day will physically earn a place on bookshelves in your homes *the power of manifestation intensifies* :)

every now and then, one paints a picture

that seems to have opened a door and serves

as a stepping stone to other things

― Pablo Picasso

Was it something he did? Something he said?

No, not really, just... I don't know there was something about him that stopped me in place. His face, I couldn't force myself from looking away, as if seeing a man that found peace, but at the same time...

What?

I ask her with my heart slightly racing. I can't even explain the craziness that's going on in my body, or any logical reason for it. All I know is that I need the answer to it. Strange thing, one might say. The need to know details about someone you haven't even met. About their face expression, about their gestures. Anything. I look at her again with the question still vibrating from my body like some odd form of expanding energy. I can see that she struggles for words, her hands helplessly outstretched forward, palms up.

Mmm, it was as if he was collapsing from the inside.

What do you mean?

I ask slowly, feeling my brain not being able to process the sentence or not wanting to. My arms crossing tightly over the chest as soon as I see my hands begin to tremble. I watch as she sighs and shakes her head, almost as if she had the entire chaos of the cosmos inside of her and didn't want to let it out into the world. My eyes turn soft and encouraging, and she smiles a bit at me, nodding.

It was such a peculiar thing to watch. His eyes were closed, face lifted to the slightly dim light filtering through the clouds. And the light... god, it seemed to be swallowing him up, a soft embrace that he could sink into completely. Getting lost forever and never coming back up for air. I saw peace radiating from him, but also sadness that seemed to flicker from under his eyelashes, as if all the shadows of the world were hiding there.

Melanie.

I whisper out, trying to say something, but she puts a hand up, gently silencing me.

Peace was surrounding him, as everything in inside of him was collapsing.

I don't... understand.

My voice is muffled and low as I make a great attempt to sink into my soft hoody deeper, the wind around me humming the first tones of Autumn all too clearly.

He was rebuilding, Sophie. It's the best way, or any way that I can describe it. As if watching things underneath his skin, muscles, lungs crush and tumble like rubble, turning into dust like... he was finally giving in all the pain that wanted to suffocate him, giving into it willingly until everything inside just... collapsed.

She inhales deeper, enjoying the feel of words finally finding their way on her tongue, rolling off it in a graceful, nearly hypnotizing dance.

Like he was breaking all of his structure and the person that he once was into something new. Devastation, pain, dust. Crumbing away until there was light breaking through in between his shattered walls. And I saw it, like watching him inhale the light, the first sunlight in many decades.

I blink at her several times, not finding anything to say. She smiles at me and then stares at her hands for a while, looking a bit embarrassed and awkward for putting herself out there like that.

I told you it was a lot.

You did, and I knew it would be. Could pretty much feel it from you, like you were oozing

with it.

She makes a face and sits on the bench behind us. I join her and slip my hands inside the front pockets of my blouse. It feels nice and warm, but I still tremble a bit as I sit next to her.

Sometimes I forget how you are.

She looks up and gazes at me with her eyebrows furrowed.

Not in a bad way, more like sometimes I forget about the magnificence that sits inside of you. How you paint words instead of just saying them. That's a little miracle in itself.

She looks down at the ground with a shy but warm smile, and we just sit there in comfortable silence for some time. While all the while I wonder how to tell her, how to even start to explain that everything she said about him, every thing she described sounded familiar. That every feeling she read from his face and painted so masterfully seemed to struck a personal cord in me. As if I lived through all of that, as if I experienced it first hand. Or experienced it with him in some other lifetime, a perfect stranger described with someone else's eyes.

.

I hopped off my ship for my evening walk. Although the sky was dark and rumbly, my steps remained light and playful. It's nice to enjoy dangerous situations like these, since it brings a little more variation into my dull life.

As the rain calmed down and the sun began to shine through, my steps began to slow as well. I stared at my feet -- is it already time for a quick break? No, of course not. I gave myself a mental power pose and continued walking... but I when I slowed yet again, I noticed in the corner of my eye another reason for me to stop. Yup, it was a glistening statue.

It's not very often you find statues in this era. Sculptures in general have always intrigued me since they exist as a record of human civilization, but this is my first time seeing a sculpture as detailed as this one. His eyes calm, his nose big and pointy, and his ears a bit red, I found myself staring at him a little too long. Rather than a statue, he almost seemed like a frozen human.

Perhaps this man could be the subject of my daily drawing. I pulled out the sketchpad from my backpack and a pencil and began to sketch his features. Every time I come across a photograph or a human like figurine, I can't help but be struck in awe of how many humans looked more or less the same. But this man felt different somehow. I wondered if the sculptor had taken inspiration from someone he admired. Maybe this individual was a benevolent being that guided the people of the past. I wondered aloud, "You don't look lonely, but should I visit you again tomorrow?"

I kept the strokes of my drawing as clean as possible, since it would be easier to preserve that way. My drawing skills have improved the past few months, haven't they? Feeling satisfied, I packed up my belongings and took one more glance at this rocky man. Tomorrow would be another day, but the his serenity made my heart a tiny bit warm; I think his peacefulness shall be my inspiration. I made up my mind to come back the next day, but now, it's time to head back to the ship.

Sitting on the bench beside Tyler, I’m not really sure what I was supposed to say.

I poke his shoulder. “Hey.”

No response. I poke his shoulder again.

“Hey.” Poke. “Heyyyy.” Another jab to his shoulder.

I sigh heavily- “just open your eyes and look at me,” quieter, almost pleading- “please?”

I glance back at him, hoping that just maybe he had listened to my request. I was out of luck of course, if there was anything Tyler knew how to do, it was how to hold a grudge. I’d been on this side of his silent treatment before, all cold and stern from some pointless childhood argument, but those had always been fixed by a little time and an off-the-cuff apology. But this wasn’t a fight over the tv remote or the last slice of pie. I knew he was only sitting outside with me because mom had threatened to stop paying for our phone bills and possibly another shorter, whispered threat that I couldn’t hear.

I chipped at the paint on my nails. “You know this reaction was the whole reason I didn’t tell you.”

Tyler still hadn’t moved, not even a twitch of anger in his face, just stone cold contempt.

My fingers slide through the strands of my hair. “I just- I’m sorry, I know that I should have-” I stand up abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I should have told you. I’m sorry, I am. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that, and-” I turn to face him. “and I am sorry, but-”

My hands flutter around my face. “Just get angry with me about it! Tell me that you hate me and that you’re disappointed and that I’m a terrible sister who kept awful secrets- anything but whatever the hell this is.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Look at me. Please.”

My voice breaks.

No reaction.

I shove myself back down on the bench, downcast. I knew it had been a bad decision to keep secret. I was moving halfway across the country for a college program that I didn’t even know if I would like and Tyler was staying here. We’d planned to live at home, saving money on rent as we attended the local state school, both in the engineering program. I was going to study mechanical and Tyler was going to study electrical and then we would graduate together, working together at some automotive company or other- our paths in perfect parallel just as they had been from the beginning. I had changed that and I hadn’t told him. He was right to be angry.

A finger poked my shoulder. I take a deep breath and turn back to Tyler. I can see him bite his lip, mouth opening and closing as he tries to begin a response. I almost don’t hear the whisper that escapes.

“Why didn’t you-“ he pauses. “I would have understood your choice. Wanting something different. We’re not the same person, I know that.”

I can see the stress furrowed into his brow, desperate for the right response.

He continues. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” He looks away from the eye contact we had been making. “Why you didn’t trust me.”

My heart drops. We’d been best friends now for 18 years- built in from our birth. I should have known that this was about more than just the distance, about the different choice I was making for my future.

I poke his shoulder again, forcing him to make eye contact with me once more. “I should have told you. I should have. And I am really sorry that I didn’t. But-“ and I take a deep breath. “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I was going to be accepted, I didn’t know if I was even going to go, and then everything happened so quickly, and I got that scholarship, and I had to make a decision, and I-”

Tyler nods, encouraging me to keep speaking. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had to do something. And I’m so so sorry that I didn’t talk to you about it. But I didn’t want you to change my mind or judge me or be disappointed and I’m sorry.”

I look down, knowing there was nothing else I could say, no other apology I could make.

Tyler pokes my shoulder this time and begins speaking softly. “I’m sorry too. That I made it so you didn’t think you could talk to me. That I shut you out when you finally tried.” He looks me in the eyes. “I’m proud of you. And you’re going to do great at your new school.”

Tears creep into the corner of my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding. And for listening to me now.” I rest against the back of the bench as I wind the conversation down to a close. “We’re both going to be great.”

We sat there in contemplative silence until the sun began to dim, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange. Comfortable together in the knowledge that despite this drastic shift in our plans for the future, despite the obstacles thrown into our way, even 400 miles apart- we were still twins, still there for each other, and for right now, that was enough.

I was born of heartache,

the timeless tug of Erato

pulling mind and soul

to pieces like a supernova

of burning orange and yellow

sunset light

like the colorful explosion

of Rothko giving birth

to a cousin, a painting

of vivid fiery life,

and I stretched arms of words

and let out a cry of imagery,

coursing ink like blood

between the spaces in the page

that hold my bones,

my poetic existence.

Seeking someone that is a great communicator. And what I mean by “great communicator” is that you must do these things:

- When you are stressed, you must say “Psyduck” and pretend you are going to explode.

- Anytime you speak to me, you must sing all responses. Preferably do this in an 80s power rock ballad style.

- Do not keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead of thinking thoughts in your head, tell me everything going through your mind in the style of a villain doing a monologue.

Please give me a few days to respond to your request, as the girls will no doubt be blowing up my profile....

Mother was born in the Oort cloud, an icy sphere at the edge of our solar system. A place comprised of debris bouncing around this cosmic pinball machine, our little piece of the galaxy. One day she decided to zig instead of zag, her mass built up just right with a heaviness of ice and forgotten bits left over from the Big Bang. She’d heard of a planet, named Jupiter, with the power to get her closer to the sun. Having always wanted to visit the all powerful Sun, that great star they revolved around in worship, she gathered up the last pieces of mass she could reach and pushed her way toward Jupiter.

Sungrazers they call them and she was on her way to becoming one. Many cheered her on as she passed them by. Her great beautiful tail growing the closer she came to the Sun, curving and sparkling with magnificent beauty. Her request to Jupiter had been simple, she only needed to be near him, this spectacular center of her universe whom she had admired for so long. She wanted desperately to feel the tingle of his radiation and was more than willing to pay the price of coming so close to the great life giver, her star. Jupiter obliged her by using his gravitational pull and his great mass to send her onto a path leading straight for the glowing ball of fury, their God. With all his might he threw her harder than any other comet that had come before. How brave she was, my Mother.

The Sun took in her great growing beauty as she came nearer and coveted her above all else for it was a lonely position, to be center of attention. The planets and comets in his orbit flow around him day after day but never dare to come so close as she. He watched her approach, tail glowing, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. There was a reason few dared such an extrodinary feat for even he could not control his power.

The day finally came, she was ready, and as she lowered her mass in reverence to him he felt a great pull. Something deep within his core recognized her as the one he had always needed. With an interstellar sigh heard throughout time, in a powerful tidal force of cosmic love, I was born. Father bid farewell as Mother continued her path back to the Oort cloud and I, evidence of their love, made my way toward his most beloved planet Earth.

The day I entered the atmosphere of my new home was glorious. Father, so proud to gift me to this precious world of his, looked on as I burst through each layer of gasses to meet my final resting place. Scaly heads tilted in awe and enormous trees bowed before me. A trail of his fire and smoke signaled my royal lineage when I landed. An impressive tidal wave of dust finalized my coronation, a testament to my Mother’s greatness.

Father watched with pride as the world reset, regrew and from the ashes his Stardust children were born...

tonaliscence- enui involving a printer.

tchanack- a sucking sound made by a spoon in a bowl of semi-viscous porridge.

juavolarism- the insatiable need for eggs.

heggfint- the dillema of leaving the last drop of milk in the carton for the next guy, or finishing it off.

uousuous - the joy of correctly spelling a difficult adjective.

hingery- the dread of inevitable wounds caused by home repairs.

patchonk- the feeling of sorrow and grief, knowing that there will never be any new Dr. Seuss books ever again.

guttermuck- the oily, messy, irresistable sauce-dripping bottom of a home made burger/slopy joe, that was tightly packed in wax paper, for grease retention purposes..

pzitflitz- the obsessive need to make annoying sounds.

zipperflam- a yet to be invented strain of seedless mango that has a zipper for easy consumption.

The mood in the boardroom was grim. They’d been in there for hours and were still no closer to reaching a solution all could find amicable.

‘I don’t think you fully understand how precarious your standing here is,’ Mikey said, sighing with frustration.

‘I don’t think you understand,’ countered Luke, ‘how much this corporation is losing to the competition. We’ve got rivals in China and Japan. Rome, Greece, Norway. We can’t even get a foothold in Australia or America.’

‘Not yet, but in time.’ The room quietened when the CEO spoke. His voice crackled like fire. ‘As for those European upstarts, their influence is waning. Soon they will be nought but whispered memories.’

Luke put his head in his hands.

‘In time you say,’ he muttered. ‘But what about the thousands out there now? Do they not deserve to be saved from the opposition?’

‘We will expand,’ the CEO answered, ‘but this cannot happen overnight. Change takes time. You must be patient.’

‘Patience is not my concern. Am I not your trusted employee, second only to Mikey? I have believed in you from the start and I would wait an eternity were it only I being affected. But there are innocent souls out there who need our aid.’

‘And we will get to them,’ Mikey said. ‘As you know, there is a plan to kickstart the marketing campaign…’

‘With all due respect, sir,’ Luke said to the CEO, ‘I disagree that your son is the best person to head that project. He will be ridiculed and mar-’

‘It is already decided,’ the CEO interrupted. ‘We cannot force the people to use our service. They must choose willingly.’

‘In the old days, you were not so cautious.’

‘Careful, Luke,’ Mikey warned.

‘It’s alright Mikey,’ the CEO said. ‘Speak, Luke. Tell us what’s on your mind.’

Luke swallowed, trying to summon the courage.

‘I motion…’ he began.

‘Yes?’ The CEO’s voice resonated through the large room.

‘I put forward a vote of no confidence.’

Mikey gasped. ‘Luke, no…’

The CEO leaned forward on his chair and looked directly into Luke crystal-blue eyes.

‘No confidence in me?’ he asked.

Luke nodded silently.

‘And who do you expect would second such a foolish motion? You know Mikey here would not entertain such a vile plot.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Luke licked his lips. His throat was dry. ‘I have discussed it with others and we are of the same mind.’

‘Others?’ The CEO smiled, though there was no mirth in his countenance. ‘Have these others named you as my successor, perhaps?’

‘No. We believe the company should be led by three of equal ranking, not a single autocrat.’

‘But you were elected spokesperson of this… triumvirate?’

Luke raised his head in defiance. ‘I am proud to be so chosen.’

The CEO sat back, his expression unreadable.

Silence filled the room for what seemed an age.

Finally, the CEO spoke again, his voice as soft as thunder.

‘Then rule you shall. Lucifer Lightbringer, I cast you and your brethren to the pits of Hell.’

A major flaw of the human condition is the golden rule. It gives people a mindset that we are not only all the same, but come from equal backgrounds and opportunities. It isn’t enough to treat others how you would like to be treated. Mainly because some people do not settle for the same socio-norms that you yourself might settle for, but additionally because most of us think we are better than we actually are. We would like to believe that we always take the moral high ground, that we would never be in the other person’s shoes, and that we would know how to be more accepting if we were.

On the subject of other people’s shoes, I am not entirely convinced that walking in someone else’s may prompt as much empathy as this world needs. I propose that in lieu of taking a walk in someone else’s shoes to try and relate to their emotional journey, there is a better more accurate way to incite an empathetic reaction. Think about the person you care for most in the world (if you have children, they work perfectly for this exercise), and place them in the other person’s shoes. Now tie your hands behind your back and watch from afar as they stumble.

How do you want to help them?

How could you have done better?