The deepest secret

that I never told

was that I killed a child

when I was thirteen.

She was bright

and dreamed

of space travel

and of inventing fantastic machines.

I yanked her from

her fluffy bed,

dragged her to the living room,

turned on the TV.

I stabbed her eyes

with a steely knife

formed of 

pictures

of sand dunes and 

of tanks exploding.

And I whimpered to her

as darkness

replaced the life that bled from her:

"That is where your daddy is"

I took a gun

and shot her ears

with the cries

of starved children

and the shrieks of vultures

ready to devour.

And I screamed at her

through salty tears:

"It's too late for you to save them!"

Her knees wobbled

somehow still alive

on life support

from the small light of hope

that drove her youthful soul.

And so I mustered

the shred of strength -or fear- left of me,

to explain

in a soft whisper

that some people

lose all hope

that they extinguish their light

entirely.

And at this, her color drained

from red

to white

to blue,

the same colors

as it happens

that her father

could be wrapped in.

I killed a child

when I was thirteen.

I killed a child

and that child was me.

#ProseChallenge #DeepestSecrets

There's always something in my room, and I can't figure out what it is. The scratching on the walls never stops. It's constant and frightening, like a wolf is at my door, desperately clawing at the wood and trying to get in. I always wonder, as I lay in bed cuddling my cat, if I'll ever see the source of the noise. Something in me hopes I do, but mostly, I just hope it stops so I can fall asleep....

Gluttony this bagel, that I won't set down. I'm buttering another and wolfing them all down. Microwave burritos, and then perhaps a meal. A bowl of flavored oatmeal, and biscotti's how I feel. I'm sucking down the coffee adding sugar as I please, trying not to drop this bag of cookies when I sneeze. You think I might be kidding, or hope this isn't all today, save a bit for later! Save those crackers for another day, but no I just keep eating for I'm bored and that's the plan. Of course I get away with it, I benchpress all this ham. The trick to staying active is eating while you run, sure it defeats the purpose unless the purpose is just fun. I like the donuts that I get in packs of 6 or 8, I'm 6'3 and look at me I'm actually underweight. I bet that makes you hate me, I am okay with that, you shoot me looks, while I write books, fried chicken doesn't make me fat. Perhaps it's what's I'm doing? Between stacks of pancakes? Sure I eat a salad, covered in those bacon flakes. Some people say it's sinful, a doctor might agree. Hey as long as you are eating healthy, pass that carrot cake to me.

#Gluttony

I wait all day, I wait all night, make stabbing motions as I write. The things I say, the things I do, they don't much matter, at least to you. It's quiet here, it's quiet now, my speakers low, they make no sound. The coffee smell, the buzzing light, these are my life here, late at night. She was just here, just days ago, now via Skype I wait to know. What will she say, what will we do, I don't know yet, neither do you. Somehow it's warm, it should be cold, I'll end this rhyming, as it gets old. Just one more line, do not protest, I wait for her, she is the best.

>For Debra C.

>By Brian 

I wait all day, I wait all night, make stabbing motions as I write. The things I say, the things I do, they don't much matter, at least to you. It's quiet here, it's quiet now, my speakers low, they make no sound. The coffee smell, the buzzing light, these are my life here, late at night. She was just here, just days ago, now via Skype I wait to know. What will she say, what will we do, I don't know yet, neither do you. Somehow it's warm, it should be cold, I'll end this rhyming, as it gets old. Just one more line, do not protest, I wait for her, she is the best.

>For Debra C.

>By Brian 

The same music is playing “I Love You…I’ll Kill You” by Enigma. He turns around and looks at me…his eyes, empty and dark. They look as if they held candle flames inside those murky eye cavities. Then those empty floating flames, take the shape of a man. A man I’ve known only from books and phone calls. His body is shadowy smoke chasing after me…I’m out of breath…. “Oh my God! That dream again. Damn, these cold sweats just don’t go away.” The rain kept hitting at Zed’s window and the coldness of the house felt like acute razors through his bones. “That fucking dream doesn’t let me sleep. The sudden movements startled his gray cat which went under the bed. What time is it? Ugh, it’s only three in the morning.”

He got up and went to the bathroom to wash his face with some warm water. The bright light blinded him for a moment, and he used his hands to find his way through the small room. Zed was now 23 and decided to live by himself far in Boston leaving his family and every attachment at El Paso. “Shit! Where did I leave those sleep pills?” he was able to find a little container. He opened it and a blue pearl fell on the palm of his pale hand. “Wish I could get rid of those eyes bags they’re making me look like a freaking zombie.” He stopped for a moment and admired what he considered his repulsive image. Zed had mysterious green eyes and sharp eyebrows which made him look as some sort of wolf whenever he stared at girls. They used to be afraid of him because of that. He had very straight red lips which made the act of smiling a difficult task, and his skin was pale despite his Mexican descent. They used to look at him as the freak of the family probably because his mother was American. “Sigh. I don’t know why I am wasting my time staring at the mirror in the middle of the night. I have to go to work tomorrow!” This was the usual ritual that Zed had to follow every night since he got to Boston.

“Fuck! I’m late!” He jumped out of his bed, grabbed his 7/11 uniform, and for breakfast he drank a cup full of beer he left on his table the night before. His day went by so fast despite he hated his job, he managed to make some friends there plus some customers who felt he was the most professional and energetic employee in the whole store. Once he was off from his job, Marcus always waited for him at the parking lot. Marcus was a tall Latino guy with elusive gray eyes. He was kind of muscular in comparison to Zed’s skinny body. They were pretty good friends. Zed met him at the airport on his way to Boston and, as an act of providence, Marcus lived three blocks away from Zed’s house. From there, stories about sex, alcohol and girls, and the complexities of life in general took place. They were not the regular speakers, for they were able to see connections and all type of weird stuff that could come to mind.

“Hey, Marcus! Don’t you think it is weird that you’re always waiting for me here?” Said Zed. Bitch, you look like my fucking body guard!” They both laughed. “Hey, Marcus, what will you do this Thanksgiving?” Barked Zed. “I am planning to go to California because my mother is not going to be able to come. Her cancer is just getting worse and now she can’t get up from bed. She said she wants to see all her sons and daughters together. I don’t think I can handle that, but I guess I have to pay a visit.” Said Marcus between what seemed to be a broken voice, but he suddenly changed the topic. “Yo, did you see Lindsey today? She looked ravishing today!” They both laughed again. “Yeah I saw her…” They both continued walking down the street towards the bus stop. They finally got there and sat on the cold metallic bench. The sky seemed grayer than usual. Zed loved Boston because in autumn it seemed as if the trees were on fire with all their golden, red, and orange leaves. “It seems that it is going to rain today” Whispered Zed. But this time Marcus didn’t say anything he just turned around before Zed could see any sign of weakness. “Fuck you, pussy.” Thought Zed. The bus finally arrived and all the way back home there was no talk at all. They bid each other farewell till the next day, and the world died again for Zed by the moment he shut his door.

He loved his solitude. He loved to be apart from everyone else. He turned on the heater and undressed himself. He hated clothes. “Fuck all these clothes, oh but wait, I wanted to move here!” He laughed and his laughter filled the emptiness of his house. Even though he was a guy, he was somehow organized. No signs of dust or dirty clothes were present in his house because he hated to see his place messy. After all, his mother customs were present within him. He had some dinner and went upstairs to conceal himself in his room once again. He went to bed scared somehow. He was afraid of having that dream again. That was the only thing that made him weak, and he hated it. It was raining stronger than before. The rhythms of the raindrops sang lullabies to Zed. He finally fell asleep.

“Ah!” He woke up all sweaty again. He rubbed his eyes thinking he was seeing things. “What the fuck do you want!? Leave me alone! I must be dreaming! Oh my fucking God!” The shadow from his dreams was over him. It took hold of Zed’s arms, so he could not escape from its grip. Its now blazing eyes were the only lights he could see in the middle of the darkness from his room. A faceless shadow with two burning holes on his face. Zed was struggling to set free but everything was in vain. The shadow got its faceless head closer to Zed’s face and began whispering. “You are dead, you are alone, you are nobody, because I have it all. Your family thinks you are dead, you bastard. You left and you are no more than a piece of shit.” Then in an instant the shadow lifted in the air and Zed was turned over by an invisible force. The shadow got on Zed’s back and sunk what seemed to be sharp claws. Zed screamed of pain and horror. He suddenly woke up with some marks around his wrists. He ran to the bathroom and looked for any sign of scratches on his back. There were none but only the marks that someone had taken hold of him. He still felt pain on his back and somehow through the tears that rolled down from his face. He observed his dying self in the mirror. His eyes seemed darker and the vivid green flames they exerted seemed to be fading away as if that shadow itself was blowing them off little by little. He didn’t notice it was already nine in the morning. It was late for work, but he didn’t rush. He went anyways.

After his supervisor scolded him and helped some stubborn customers, Zed seemed to accomplished another day of what seemed to be a miserable day and life overall. His spark seemed to be gone. “I wonder if they are thinking of me. I wonder if they would make turkey or tamales...I wonder if they still care….” It was a Friday 13th and he was off from work. As usual, Marcus waited for him outside. “Dude! How are ya?!” said Marcus joyously. But he only got a plain “Meh…” from Zed. “Ok? Will we go to that little bar to have some shots, buddy? I already invited Lindsey and her friend Rachel maybe we can get some action tonight?” Said Marcus winking an eye to Zed. But Zed remained silent and finally decided to speak. “Some action huh? Let’s go home, Marcus I forgot something there.” Without doubt, Marcus followed his old good friend on the way back home. It was drizzling a little, so they had to hurry before the rain could get any stronger.

They both entered the quiet somber house. “Please wait for me here, Marcus. What I forgot is upstairs. I’ll be back in a minute.” Said Zed while Marcus decided to study his surroundings. He saw that everything in this house was gray somehow. The wallpapers, the furniture, even the cat were gray. “Such a bad taste.” Thought Marcus. Zed left looking for something. This time he was going to have some action. Something he would never forget or Marcus himself would not forget. “This is going to be the beginning of it all.” He pierced the tip of his middle finger with the golden shine within his hands letting life run down free from his middle finger. Marcus will love this, but it is I who will love it more…”

Zed finally came down and turned on his stereo. He played Silence Must Be Heard by Enigma. It was now raining even more. Both friends approached the window and began contemplating the gray scenario. “Cold isn’t it?” said Zed. “Indeed, these kind of days make me miss home and my mother. They even make me miss people who I used to know. It is as if every raindrop were tears shed by those who miss us up there and those who miss us somewhere on this vast land.” Said Marcus. “That is true. If you were gone, will you miss a good friend?” Asked Zed. Don't ignore hidden desires, pay attention, you're playing with fire the song in the background broke the silence. “I guess so. Who wouldn’t? I mean if you happen to be gone, I guess, you will miss who you used to be as well as those that were part of your life; however, we both know that as they come, they go.” Replied Marcus. Diamonds will burn, friendly cards will turn cause silence has the right to be heard. They both heard the dark lyrics. “You know, Marcus, I simply don’t like to feel weak. Sometimes family itself is the source of sadness. I don’t know. I simply don’t like weak people.” Said Zed while observing the shiny wet trails on Marcus’s face. “Come here, buddy…” Zed hugged Marcus. He remembered how the thunder light lit the shadow’s face the night it appeared in his room. It was Marcus’s face. He felt the pain that Marcus’s shadow exerted over him. The coldness in the room disappeared and everything gained infernal heat within the dense darkness of the house. “It’s all over now.” Said Zed while the warm embrace of his friend became looser. Marcus fell into the darkness exerted by that house. The metal of the blade and Zed’s knuckles hit the floor…

There I am veiled in shadows holding the bloody dagger in my hand. I just killed my friend. The red ink of his veins decorates the living room as if it were some sort of luxurious carpet. His anguish, my anguish becomes fleeting. He ignores me even more with half shut eyes. The only difference from the state in which he is in is that it makes him quieter; he is less narcissistic, and less resentful. And there I am observing how his life leaks through the gashes of his soul and his flesh. The gray cat observes attentively. The blue thunder light caresses the gray wallpaper, but there I am cloaked with shadows. I will take a glass of vodka and sip a little from it. The room smells like cempasuchitl and lilies. The sky cries and trembles and there I am covered in shadows. My body is planted like a rusty nail in a wooden floor; he is right there spread on the floor like simple home furniture. He is nothing. He claimed to be everything. He had real friends, but I never was one of them. I don’t know what was of him. I only know that he ended here next to all this drowning shadows and me. He left. I left too.  

DA 2015

I know I've already posted tonight, but I wanted to say something to honor those lost in the Paris terrorist attacks, and those helping and needing help in the aftermath. 

You try to crush the world in your chains

You exert your every effort across nations

You squeeze your disease through every opening you can find

In an attempt to destroy us all

Violence

Death

Chaos

It seemed you had succeeded

And put our backs to the wall

You must have rejoiced

You must have rung the victory bells

You must have put up your feet

But what you don't know is that we still hear hope's call

So we are standing, up off the ground

All across the world

Through hashtags

Relief efforts

Donations

Support and cooperation among us all

You may not want to see it

But we are showing you

No matter how hard you throw us

How thoroughly you break us

How forcefully your blows land

We

Are

Showing

You

How very nobly, courageously, and defiantly we will fall

white dresses

red lipstick

diamond earrings

black eyeliner

champagne glasses

elegant paintings

classical music

high profiles

fake smiles

plastic words

shallow laughs

empty eyes

cold hearts

careless thoughts

withered spirits

broken souls