Up to my eyeballs in a cold world

that suddenly turns around and gets hot

the moment you mention the afflictions that waste you

and their conversational prodding suggests that

“everybody’s a little x” or “everybody’s a little z”

and that’s my cue to beeline away from their version

of my life’s narrative where they demand top billing.

Keep chasing, see how that goes. An impossible soul, craving, just to feel full.

Hours wishing, nights awake, while time ticks, fleeing, to so, so far away.

Counting, watching and telling lies, gilt chases, stinging, and you can't close your eyes.

@DanPhantom123,

Thank you for the prompt!!!

This text is from Sword Art Online Abridged by Something Witty Entertainment. Watch Episode 18 on YouTube.

So all credit for this idea really goes to them. It was way too cool not to think on it and say, "that's an awesome spell to use in some story."

So let's see what you all can do with it.

**********************************************

A toll for the living

A toll for the lost

A toll for the wise ones who tally the cost!

Brandishing fate like a sword

Time a shield

I hide behind in the hopes for ahead

Vanishing gate is restored

I must yield

Or lose my mind knowing I should have fled

I agonize some losses more than others. Because of this I ponder for what purpose loving is (at all) if, in the end, that which love creates must also be destroyed by it.

Truly. To be empty—to remain in pieces, should seem a mercy in contrast. But as I am now, it has forged me.

Kintsugi.

Life reveals, that for every great loss that breaks, so does it gather back—lancing fragments together with the dearest experiences. It has increased my capacity for love, and so the suffering to contain it.

They are parts equal as they are everlasting. Beautiful companions are loss and love: deconstruction, renewal.

J.M.Liles ©️2024

[For Frank]

Listlessly lying on the white topped bed,

Intensely focused on the slightly crooked tile on my glorified cage's ceiling.

Safely balancing on the line between boredom and survival.

Trying not to think about days back then,

Entertainment taken for granted, and

Normal was a characteristic of a person.

The party was like a snake, slowly wrapping around the guests until they could no longer move - the dance floor empty, the balconies sparse. Maybelle let her sandals dangle off one finger, tired and unwilling to move.

Cassidy, Taylor, and Daysha were still gathered around a cocktail table, empty glasses pushed to the side to make room for a tarot card reading. Maybelle had gone to the bathroom then decided to wait here, near the doors, instead of making her way back over. Her feet hurt and her head felt muddied a little as she leaned against a pillar and admired the ballroom.

It had been a surprise that her friend group had even been invited. Chelsea and Brian had gotten engaged, which had been the absolute talk of campus, for the seniors at least. Maybelle couldn't imagine being engaged; hell, she'd never even had a romantic partner before. And then they'd thrown the most grand engagement party their college had ever seen, thanks to Chelsea's family fortune. Campus was small, and pretty much all the seniors knew each other, but Maybelle still hadn't expected the little champagne-accompanied invitation at her apartment door. Maybe Chelsea left one at everyone's door.

The party was held in a historical building just off campus, only a ten minute walk for Maybelle and her friends, but they'd never been inside before today. It was once a grand hotel, according to the plaques, and standing inside it now, Maybelle wished she could time travel back and see it in its full, bustling glory.

She imagined butlers holding leather suitcases in their gloved hands, trolleying them up to the rooms that now held snack tables and offices. Women wearing pearls and little hats would walk into the ballroom, short heels clicking on the marble floor. They'd watch the men at the bar across the way, adjust their lipstick and pretend they didn't notice when the men watched them back.

Maybelle looked up into the sparkling chandeliers, across at the staircase winding up to the balcony, watching two people she vaguely knew flirt with each other, bumping shoulders and suppressing smiles. The ballroom was almost empty now, just a scattering of people at its edges, hidden partially by the large flower arrangements - pink roses and massive fern leaves. Chelsea and Brian were long gone now, and the warm lighting was dim, the pop music replaced by generic Muzak drifting faintly through the room.

"Still here, Maybe?"

Calvin stood just on the other side of the pillar she was leaning against. She was surprised he hadn't brought his friends around with him. They'd been lingering around her table all evening, making jokes while the rest of them rolled their eyes. At one point Maybelle had to pull Taylor away from body-slamming Seb, who kept telling her that her red dress made her look like a crab.

"Still don't know how to tie a tie?" she quipped automatically, peering around the pillar at him. He'd shown up with a knotted tie that, while maybe technically correct, looked horribly uneven. Now it hung over his neck completely undone, pulling her eyes to the unbuttoned button on his dress shirt.

She moved at the same time he did, and they ended up toe-to-toe, looking at each other. Maybelle didn't like that she was close enough to see the beginning of stubble on a face she considered to be always cleanly shaven. "I didn't realize you'd care so much," he said, looking down at their feet. His were in worn tennis shoes, despite the rest of his outfit being formal, and hers were bare. "Forgot how to wear shoes?"

"If you keep staring I'll assume you have a fetish," she told him. "At least I tried." Maybelle held her small pastel pink sandals in between them, brushing them against his stomach and causing Calvin to take a step back.

He narrows his eyes, a familiar expression to her. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" She knew he was referring to the fetish comment, but she didn't engage. Boys were predictable, and predictably, he trailed after her when she said nothing and walked around him.

When she reached her table of friends, he was just a step behind. What she hadn't noticed was Seb had squeezed himself between Taylor and Daysha, and Cassidy was explaining his tarot cards to him.

"Basically it means you're gonna die," Taylor interjected melodramatically.

Daysha laughed, and Cassidy shook her head. "No, it doesn't." Cassidy's long fingers splayed over the Three of Swords, and she directed her intense gaze on Seb. "It means heartbreak; you think you've found what you're looking for but it falls through your fingers, lost, leaving you feeling isolated. Not necessarily over a person, even."

"Heartbreak over something other than a person? Sounds like Seb. He'll probably lose his last save in a video game or something," Calvin laughed.

Seb held both index fingers up in front of him. "Whoa, man. As if you have any more game than I do. All that Magic the Gathering is like girl-repellant."

"I'm actually extremely sought-after," Calvin tried to say, but Taylor drowned him out with, "At least he's actually nice to people sometimes." Even though she was a foot shorter than Seb, she was still the most intimidating person Maybelle knew. Luckily for Seb, they were all well aware that Taylor would actually rather sleep with him than strangle him, despite the way she acted.

The rest of them let Taylor and Seb argue, and Cassidy spun her arms around, her long, bat-winged sleeves almost knocking over an empty glass. "Calvin! Your turn for a reading."

He picked up a card suspiciously, moving in towards the table, brushing up against Maybelle's side. "I don't think so."

Cassidy deftly took the card back and shuffled the deck. "If you play something called Magic then I'm sure you'll survive this," she told him breezily.

He made a grim but thoughtful expression, and Maybelle laughed into her hand. He turned at the sound, pinning her with eyes like a hawk. "Fine." Lower, he said to Maybelle, "But put those away, or I'll be too distracted to pay attention." He glanced under the table at her feet, and she huffed.

"Yeah, right. You could make an effort to just not look at me at all, how about that?"

Calvin snorted. "Easily." And Maybelle accidentally caught Daysha wiggling her eyebrows at her. Cassidy had a more subtle satisfied smile on her face. Her friends thought that Calvin and Maybelle's bickering actually meant something, but Maybelle was less convinced.

Calvin was an ever-present distraction, Maybelle knew that. They shared three classes this semester, and each one felt like another opportunity for him to show her up. He was stupidly smart and wildly good at debating, whereas Maybelle was good on paper and couldn't speak when other people looked at her. She'd endured his presence since freshman year, when they'd gotten to know each other during a group debate in a philosophy class. Despite being on the same side of the debate, he had successfully humiliated her by writing out an argument for her to say. It had been riddled with nonsensical and pretentious phrasing, and when she stumbled over her words he'd swooped in like a savior. She wished for every moment after that that she had just broken from his script, but her mind always went blank in moments where she most needed it.

From there Maybelle had poured all of her energy into what she was good at: thinking ahead. She let him have his debates, but she aced every written test and paper. They continued to play this game in their classes today - the two of them consistently had the highest grades in every one of their classes. She knew there was a good chance he liked her, but now that the end of senior year was approaching, what was the point? And besides that, did she like him?

Cassidy was beckoning Calvin close, whispering something as he bent across the table to hear it. Maybelle was jostled by Taylor, who had come around to the other side of the table after calling Seb a dickweed. Maybelle had completely zoned out and missed Calvin's reading, and was beginning to feel the full weight of the night. It was late.

She saw the cards on the table: Seven of Cups for the past, a reversed Eight of Wands for the present, and The Lovers for the future. Maybelle didn't have any of the meanings memorized, but the last one felt self-explanatory. She pushed away from the table, fairly sure Cassidy was in control of the cards, not that she'd ever accuse her friend of that to her face. But in this case it seemed likely.

Taylor took this opportunity to pull her to the side, nearly poking them both in the eye with ferns. "How does my makeup look?" She peered through the leaves back at the table, now a few feet away.

Maybelle did a once-over of her friend. "You literally look like you did at the beginning of the night. Still stunning." It was true, not even a hair was out of place on her blonde head. She must've used a lot of hairspray. Taylor waved a hand. "So my face isn't red or anything? Seb's such a bastard."

After a sigh, Maybelle said, "Yeah, you always say that."

Crossing her arms, Taylor looked at Maybelle. "Alright, Sassy. I hear you complain about Calvin all the time so I don't wanna hear it. Speaking of, why didn't you dance with him?"

Now Maybelle frowned over at the rest of the group. Calvin was still talking to Cassidy, pointing at his cards. His hair was kind of mussed. "He never asked."

Taylor let out a prolonged groan. "This isn't the fifties. You guys have rom-com levels of sexual tension. You could have asked him."

Scrunching up her nose, Maybelle turned back to Taylor. "I don't think that's accurate. And what about you and Seb?" Immediately Taylor's chin jutted into the air, but she said nothing, which was a telling sign. "Taylor? Did something happen?" It would be a relief.

"I might be going to his place tonight. Maybe."

Maybelle internally squealed and externally couldn't stop a grin. "Oh my god, finally."

Taylor was two inch shorter than Maybelle even with her heels on, but she managed to still give the impression of looming over her. "Not a word. It's totally casual, but just, feels right."

Daysha was calling their names, so Maybelle just nodded back, grin still in place. Taylor smiled a little too, contrasting it by saying, "But I might not. Just maybe."

"Maybe, maybe, maybe." The rest of the group was wandering over, minus Cassidy, who was putting her cards away. But it was Calvin, who was behind Daysha and Seb, who had spoken. 'Maybe,' his nickname for Maybelle.

Her eyes skimmed over him, but she then pointedly ignored him. When Cassidy joined them, Maybelle noticed how quiet the ballroom had become. Nearly empty, as it was probably approaching 2 AM. When they opened the hotel's large front doors, a gust of cold night air hit them, sending goosebumps down Maybelle's bare arms.

Maybelle watched Taylor mutter something to Seb, who had to bend down to hear her, then they parted, Seb going left and Taylor going right. Daysha and Cassidy turned right and called goodbye to the boys. Maybelle was last to descend the hotel's stairs, and she watched Calvin, tie almost lifted off his shoulders by the wind, turn left with the barest wave of his hand. Without saying goodbye, he walked away.

Her bare feet hit the cold sidewalk, damp from a little rain, and she turned right to follow her friends back. But she did turn back once, just to look, but he was just a shadow in the night by then.

ain't it something—the way we parse our lungs into polite portions, like

granma's teacups lined up all pristine & proper on Sunday?

such

tiny

sips

of

sky

the body knows better. knows how to gulp-swallow-devour the world when we let it. when we don't cage it in business-casual breaths & conference-room dreams & fluorescent-lit desires.

see: the newborn's first raw scream

the lover's ragged gasp

the runner's victorious heave

the swimmer's desperate surface-break

& here we are, making do with these careful little breaths. these timid

micro-doses of existence. like we're afraid the universe might notice us

taking more than our share.

but listen,

the stars didn't explode into being

just so we could

inhale

in

mea

sured

doses

remember: every cell in your body descends from creatures who knew how to BREATHE, really breathe, who pulled oxygen from ancient seas & figured out how to scale mountains & sprint across savannas & sing whale-songs through ocean depths.

you are their wild inheritance.

so go ahead:

breathe like you mean it.

breathe like you're stealing fire from gods.

breathe like you remember what your atoms were

before they learned to play human.

because this thing you're doing now?

this shallow-chest half-life ventilation?

it's not breathing.

it's not living.

it's just

rehearsing

for

the

stillness.

The dream was so ponderous and so vivid in its nature, it rendered me speechless on awakening. A cavernous dread has taken hold of me and I feel compelled to write this down, for posterity.

In my dream I was still asleep when a gloomy shadow passes over me. The air feels heavier, an atmospheric weight descending like a heavy mist on a barren land and from the darkness of the night I hear my name being whispered in a deep baritone forcing me to wake up from my slumber.

It felt so real. I was in my bed, in my room, with my dear wife sleeping soundly by my side. The window was ajar, and I could feel the soft cool of night air on my skin. A fly had snuck through the lace curtains and I

could even hear the background hum of its buzz.

Yet the dream was also absurd, as a strange young man sat on the end of bed.

His eyes were piercingly alert, his face was framed with an oddly shaped moustache. He wore a soldier’s uniform with insignia I had never seen before but the thing that struck me most was his striking persona. He was redoubtable, self-possessed, confident to the point of arrogance with a glint in his eye that unnerved me even in my dreamlike state. His back was straight, he sat rigid, his jaw firm. His whole demeanour radiated a nefarious intent and I had a strong sense that this man was real. Instinctively, I knew he was dangerous but of what and why I couldn’t say- it was, after all, only a dream.

“Doctor Charles,” He said as I roused from slumber. His voice was faint yet distinct. Though barely a whisper I could still detect a heavy Germanic accent.

“Doctor Charles Darwin?”

“That is I.” I croaked, pulling myself upright. My dear wife Emma stirred but her sleep remained heavy. “And may I ask your name?”

I was aware these circumstances were extraordinary, otherwise I would have screamed out at the intruder in my home, as it was, I embraced the abstract nature of proceedings and allowed my curiosity to take reign over fear.

“You don’t know me,” He replied, with half a smile. “But I know you. In fact, I am a great admirer of your work. I like to think we are comrades. United in belief.”

“You are a scientist?” I asked hopeful, yet nothing about this man’s character indicated a man of science.

“No. I am a leader. I have great scientists work for me.” He was very economical and precise in his speech, enunciating each word carefully. “In fact, I told my scientists that I am a follower of your work. My yearning fantasy is to speak with you- the greatest scientist of our time Charles Darwin- and my scientists in their zeal to please me, find a way. This is how we can meet. Only through dreams.”

“I see.” I say (although I don’t see at all). It’s apparent I was speaking to a madman but as I scientist I was intrigued.

“You see I belong to a different time and in my time- I continue your work. The Natural selection of mankind.”

“You have read my book- The origin of Species?”

“Oh yes. You are a freethinker as I am. I too believe in survival of the fittest, and racial hygiene. In my time, we call it eugenics and social Darwinism- we named it after you.”

“How intruiging.”

“My country has also embraced our ideologies. We are cleansing our race as we speak.”

“Cleansing?”

“Yes. The dissidents, the feeble-minded, the degenerates , the deaf, the blind, the Jews and homosexuals- all will be wiped out from our land. Exterminated. We will breed a superior race and soon the world will evolve at a rate previously unknown.”

A deep and morbid fear overtakes me.

I am speechless. I am sickened to the core. I am horrified at the mere thought and the casual fashion in which he mentioned of such atrocities; disgusted that a human being could think this way and speak to me as if I too share these perversions. My thoughts mimic the panic-stricken fly in the room: darting around in a haphazard manner, desperate to comprehend its predicament. Is it possible that someone could conceive these ideas from my theories?

“But..but my work focuses on plant life and animals,” I eventually stutter, unable to get my words out fast enough. “Humans are more evolved. We operate with an expanded law of nature. Love. Compassion. Don’t you believe that?”

The man doesn’t answer. He tightens his jaw. His eyes narrow like dark pits and peer into my own. A flick of his eyebrows and a slight pursing of the lips tells me he is disappointed with my response.

“What is your name?” I growl, surprising myself as my voice is louder now, like rolling thunder, anger bursting through my genial surface - even in my dream I am incensed that my life’s work can be twisted and misconstrued to this extent . “Tell me your name!” I shout when he ignores the question.

He stands and links hands behind his back. He is calm but his face darkens as he nears me and I detect something akin to murderous intent.

“My people call me “Mein Fuhrer”.”

---

I wake abruptly- thankfully. But the dream has left me alarmed and distressed to say the least.

A sense of foreboding follows me by day and I am reluctant to sleep again at night. I fear for the future. I fear my theories could ignite such a diabolical fire. I must expand upon my work. I must emphasize a moral sensitivity, mutual aid and the noble nature of mankind.

A determination like lightning empowers me, I will not rest. To this end, I have started new research and will compose a new book.

I shall call it “The descent of Man.”

Cold hard heart

it was,

cold and solid set

in me . . .

and frozen it was,

with no rest,

this very morning

as i went about,

here and there,

body hard and tense,

the toil

the pain

no place

no time

to rest

upsetting pace

at each turn

to face

yet another

chore

and test

to overcome

yet trip and fall

i did

to pull and rip

of my weary heart

to the boggling

seeming endless

routines vain

repeat refrain

myriad pains

. . .

. . . and then subtly,

with no sudden notice,

like a child's hand,

as with a prodigy,

he touching ivory keys

white and black

piano's voice

in the spirit wind,

faintly,

i heard,

in my heart

at first,

in its strings

as it were,

in its blood filled beats,

slightly tugging

ever so gently,

like the wisp of a breath

. . . it moved into my veins

and then my mind

into my very soul

the tone of this

a child's piano keys,

every so beautifully played,

its wordless song,

perfectly tuned and timed,

oh so divine,

the melody's keys tapped

in synchronous symphony,

burst like a star,

and lit my heart back to life

with,

Oh, holy night / / /

. . . i had stumbled

and tumbled,

and grieved,

and pained,

in complaint's

refrains,

despicable plight,

tainted soul,

from world torn . . .

like so many

countless times

countless, i say . . .

/ / /

but,

and now,

to the music,

the tune,

oh , . . .

so divine

oh,

Oh holy night / / /

i went from cynical,

in a moment,

to love, . . .

infused,

divine,

into my blood

into my mind,

to my soul

and made it soar

with sobbing tears

i fell

helpless

into the comforting arms

of invisible love

/ / /

oh, . . .

holy night,

the stars are brightly shining,

it is the night,

of our dear savior's birth,

for yonder breaks

a new and glorious morn'