(Here is an excerpt from a romance I am writing about a female assassin and man from an alien race.)

She places a paper in front of me. It is one of her watercolor paintings, tiny and petite. However, it is very different from her other paintings that I have seen. Some have highly detailed mountain ranges and vast shimmering lakes with flowers and lavish bushes lining the shore. This one, is just a little dull green painting on a small square of paper without a border. All the other paintings have a pristine border created by the tape she lines the painting with. No, just green and that is all.

“This is for you,” she says, sliding the paper over to me. She gleams a smile at me, flashing her canine exposed by the scar on the right side of her face. She loves to smile like that. It’s an intimidating look from such a fearsome scar.

“No, I want one of your more elaborate paintings, with the beautiful mountains and lakes. It is much more reminiscent of your skill. Please?” I said. She glares at me with the slightest smirk and pushes the painting further towards me. “It is to remember me by.” She says. But I counter, “It’s nothing like you. You are intelligent, and complex. You breathe an air of mystery everywhere you go. This green nothing doesn’t remind me of you at all and it is nothing like all the other paintings of yours that I have seen thus far.”

She looks at me a little displeased. Out of her bag she pulls a small folder with some of her other tiny watercolor paintings. The ones with borders and pretty landscapes. She spreads them about the diner table for me to see next to the green one and says, “These are nothing like me. I hate them. No passion for what I do is inherent in their design. They’re good, yes, but they represent what I despise in all common judgment of humankind.”

“And besides, I am not as complex of a person as you think I am. I am more like this green painting than anything you see here. And it is my favorite color: muddy wintergreen.” She stated.

“I feel like you are trying to say something profound to me but I don’t quite understand.” I am confused. She doesn’t always talk in metaphors like this. It’s strange and I am not used to it. She is mysterious to me. I feel as though she lacks the self-awareness to see her own complexity. Just placing a simple green square in front of me and audaciously presenting the argument that it embodies her character is proof enough of her complexity.

She spreads them out some more, points to the green square again, looks at me, and says, “This… This is me. I am very simple. You embody the complexity of the rest of these. Intricate to perfection.”

I retorted, “So I am a thing you have no passion for?” I say with the slightest smirk. She lets out one of her adorable giggles. “No, that’s not what I meant. I only meant you represent everything that is expected of you. A perfect landscape like everyone wants to see. A thing that everyone understands. I am not that. I feel as though I am empty with chaos all the time and lingering inside me is this muddy disdain for life and yet a passion for the experience of all the pain I suffer in it.” She pauses to smile for a moment. Again, I find myself confused. I love this woman and want her to endure no pain at all, but I fail to see her view on pain as a necessity in life. She goes on, “I don’t love pain, but it justifies my life. It breathes sincerity into people’s lives and actions and makes truth more important than the lies we tell ourselves. Lies like these mountains and lakes which the average person will never get to see. They’re lies because they represent the perfect expectation of reality idealized into truth that we really never get to hear or see. Instead of the vomited out pain we are left with on a stupid little square of paper, unsigned and unbordered by an artist that can’t love herself enough not to paint lies and instead paint the pain that stabs at her every nerve.”

I have nothing to say. She stares blankly at the table and at all the paintings lying there. I don’t see them the same way now. They now feel more empty than that green square…. Except for one. The folder lies open on the restaurant table and inside I see the edge of another bordered watercolor. This one, unlike the others, has a black line emphasizing the border as well. I pull it out to reveal a predominantly red painting. It appears to depict a tower of wavy red, black, and green lines and obelisks. Red clouds swirl in the sky outlined by black. Underneath the monoliths crawl rows of people-like figures marching solemnly towards it. One man, it seems, stands still at the bottom-right of the small painting watching ominously at the grimm scene before him.

Senti paints her pain in so many interesting and beautiful ways but this, it seems more characteristic of her. “Senti, this one… This is you. It’s beautiful and dark. Twisted, and mysterious. Can I have this one?” She looks up slowly from her daze and lets out a cute little nervous laugh. She lets out a sarcastic huff, “But I was hoping you wouldn’t see that one. It’s my favorite.”

Afraid of clowns? No problem! I hear there are no clowns on mars, you should move up there, especially if you are also afraid of water.

Afraid of heights? Don't you worry 'bout that! If you are in a high place, get high on weed and you won't be able to tell the difference.

Afraid of spiders? EASY! All you have to do to stop being afraid of spiders is.....

SMASH--------------CLANG----------------BANG---------------

....

We have just been informed that the person writing these tips has just been killed by a spider, or spiders, or spiders with guns. Not entirely sure, but you should definitely be afraid of spiders.

When I was little my brother used to give me life lesson lectures all the time. Constantly. Mostly I just tuned out, but I understood everything he said. He had a tendency to repeat himself a lot also.

One thing he said that I will never forget is when making affirmative statements it is always a shot in the foot to say words such as can't, won't, and no. "I won't yell again", or "No more of that", or, "I am not this person", or "I can't do this again or I will get in trouble."

I later learned that it was indeed very helpful to not put any negative connotations with positive affirmation statements for bettering oneself.

During middle school there was an incident that changed the way people who knew me looked at me and the way I looked at myself. In class one day, a bully was arguing with my best friend. They kept arguing until the bully thought it would be funny to go over and push my friend to the ground. The second he laid a hand on my friend I took action and went into a blind rage. I threw several very large books, my binder, and my lunchbox at the kid. He deflected a couple of them and luckily wasn't hurt and neither was anyone else. I suppose I was just lucky that I had terrible aim. I was escorted out of the classroom and the entire time I never said a word, it was like I was looking from a distance in another body. I honestly didn't fully comprehend that I had made any of those movements, but it was clear that I had a rage problem. Word got around and I was the joke of the entire school and it also seemed like most people were quite scared of me too. I was ridiculed, belittled, and condescended to by counselors and teachers for the remainder of my time at the school.

Upon coming home that day, my dad sat me down at the dinner table and gave me a very important lecture. He told me that we had to fix this problem and fix it immediately. He told me to write a list of statements, positive affirmations, concerning my problem and he told me not to use words like can't, won't, no, and not just like my brother told me. He told me to read these statements out loud and believe them in that moment once before I go to school and once before I go to bed every night.

After three months of doing this routine, I found that I would not get angry in the same way. It was as if I had completely manipulated my mind into becoming another person. People were still mean to me all the time like always and bullies would still bully me, but it never had the same effect again. I would just walk away or ignore them. I would never let the bullies win again. Below I will include a couple of my positive affirmations from that list.

I will be a happy person today and have an excellent day.

I love school and I have lots of friends.

They do say after all, that if you tell a lie a thousand times, it becomes the truth.

Littered in my mind,

A catch to all that’s known.

Take a step and look behind,

Into the ditch in which you’ve thrown.

A locket, a piece, a jewel, a pen.

An arrow, a tissue, a key.

A flower, a nerve.

A finger.

Catch it back as it falls down,

A sinking hole.

A repetitive hole.

An endless hole.

Back at your side,

Or in your hand it falls

Littered back from whence it came.

A trove of pieces each more unusual than the last.

To keep and never part with.

Four minutes in and I knew I had made a colossal mistake. That bastard had raped me and he had to pay. Four minutes in and I had severed his head from his body. If my parents didn't believe me when I told them, maybe they would believe I was serious when they wake up in their beds, to find his head between their heads.

Heavy on my mind they weigh.

I was fine, but now I’m lost.

Now I am become death today.

How soon to come I cannot say.

Destroyer of Worlds is the cost.

Heavy on my mind they weigh.

Most were silent, faces gray.

Laughing not, the hope exhaust.

Now I am become death today.

Cities tumbling, now I pray.

Silent voices, people tossed.

Heavy on my mind they weigh.

Vishnu gazing at the bay.

Faces sprinkled in frost.

Now I am become death today.

Under a burning sky I lay.

Of my thoughts it certainly crossed.

Heavy on my mind they weigh,

Now I am become death today.

“A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty and, to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says, 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’” -J. Robert Oppenheimer

Mommy C, Mommy Q,

Mommy’s coming after you.

Mommy’s angry, Mommy’s sad,

Mommy’s gone completely mad.

She’s insane, off the rails.

Tell the boats to set their sails.

Mommy C, released the bees,

In my room, now I can’t breath.

Mommy Q, can’t get through,

The window entering my room.

Mommy C and Mommy Q,

Are mad at me too.

Mommies angry, Mommies sad,

Mommies gone completely mad.

In my room, now I can’t see,

My eyes are puffy Mommy C.

Mommy Q, don’t come through.

Your skin is turning blue.

Mommy C, you have an allergy

To the bees. Stop please.

Mommies dead, my eyes are red.

If only Mommy C and Mommy Q,

Hadn't themselves they slew.

We were visiting my grandmother again in Texas. She lived near El Paso near a small town on a Ranch. The land was owned by close friends who turned it into an equestrian facility. My grandparents lived in a small trailer not too far from the owner’s house. The gulley floods everytime it rains and the ranch is surrounded by mountains and hills. Above the main mountain in front of Grandma’s house there is a cell tower. Mike, a family friend comes onto the ranch quite frequently to observe rattlesnakes and various other critters scattered around the mountains. He came in on his ATV, typed in the passcode at the cattle guard and entered the long dirt road towards the house. After having Grandma’s famous burritos he got on his ATV and disappeared onto the sandy trails to search for critters among the cactus-infested land.

I went out hiking, as I always do on the trail to the left of the house of the owners. The trail then forked off into a crook in the mountain. I went down that trail and over the boulders in its way and walked up the gravel road. On the ground I saw the tracks of Mike’s four-wheeler. There was only one set of them, indicating that he was still on the deeper trail in the mountain itself. In the opposite direction of where Mike had gone, the gravel road led back to the main trail and towards my grandparent’s house. After an hour I finally came back onto the main trail. It was a very long walk and I was exhausted. Knats swarmed about my face as if they enjoyed my agitation.

Upon walking back into the house, Grandpa had the TV on a news channel and it was very loud. I hated the news, because the news is just bad news. My mom was in the guest room sleeping and my grandma was in the living room with the TV, puttering on her phone. I always love going to Grandma's, but when I get there I forget how boring it is. There was still some light outside but sunset was approaching. I figured after I freshened up, I would go for another hike. Maybe a new trail.

I walked down from the house again and past the gate straight in front of the house where there were other trails to the right of the house. Me and my cousin Callie used to go hiking on those trails and she would enjoy sleeping on a flat rock in the middle of one of them. I never ventured there very much now. I would only go if someone else was with me when I was young. The trail that I remember was narrow and it led to a large patch of prickly pear cacti, so it was a very short trail but on the other side of the cactus, one could see another trail of which I had never ventured.

I walked to the spot where I thought the trail was and immediately found it among some overgrowth behind an old tree. At that moment I wasn’t but a hundred yards from the house when I began on the trail. Not long after I found the flat rock and then the cactus tower. It was getting slightly darker so I figured I should go home but I didn’t want to die of boredom there, so I gave my best try at circumventing the cacti and succeeded. Instantly a cold chill hit me. The trail after led to a crease in the towering mountain that I had never noticed before. I walked another two-hundred yards before leaving the small valley and I ventured deep onto the land surrounding the ranch.

I figured I should be able to see the highway from the high spot where I stood but I couldn’t. There was no sign of humanity. Just the trail. I traversed a long way despite the strange aura about me. Through large bushes and around more cacti, I arrived, quite a distance from where I started, in an area with no weeds or plants, only sand.

A large lot of sand big enough to hold a playground set similar to that which McDonald’s has for children, and it was that. A large playset like at a school playground. Most of it was wooden with a long plastic tube slide. Most of the structure seemed to be enclosed with glass or plastic. There were no swings attached. Just tunnels on the inside it seemed, like how you crawl through the smelly ones in fast food places. Even stranger, I walked around it and could find no openings except for the tunnel slide itself. No stairs or bars. Sand filled my shoes and I felt drowsy. I have been away from home for a very long time now, maybe an hour, but the sun seemed to be at the same horizon and the day had not aged a second from the original sunset. An hour would have given way to night time.

Still frightful of the boredom that awaited me there, my curiosity peaked and I entered the playset through the slide.

It was very dusty and creaky. I had to hold on to the sides to reach the top of the old thing. Sand from the lot around it gathered on the inside of the slide. The smell of soot and old drawers. The smell of moss and mold. When I got to the top, It looked just like how I imagined, except abandoned. The glass windows were slightly grimey with a little moss. Around the corners there were just more tunnels to crawl through. My body barely fit in the small spaces. The plastic and wood rattled under my weight. In continuing curiosity, I left the slide opening to crawl through the plastic tunnels and around corners. I traveled for about ten minutes before a feeling of dread entered my mind.

An overwhelming presence began to make itself known. It felt similar to that feeling when I walked past the cactus and towards the mountain. Like reality had turned on its head. I began to look around me frantically but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary besides the structure itself. I felt like there was something watching me. Feeling ridiculously uncomfortable, I decided to leave and head home. I followed the turns and corners I remembered taking, but when I came to the spot where I was certain the slide entrance was, it wasn’t there at all. The slide wasn’t there! Logically I looked out one of the windows to guess where it was outside and I saw it, but when I turned to find it where the entrance should be, it still wasn’t there. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. I pressed the plastic wall where the slide ought to be but it was firm. Maybe I miscounted the number of turns I made. Perhaps the slide was around the next corner, but I checked and it wasn’t

In a panic I crawled quickly through the tunnels in the direction of the way I came, trying to find a way out, but there was none. Maybe in the direction I went to begin with? Nothing. Just tunnels and tunnels and tunnels. It was like going in mad circles with no road off to the side. The maze was infinite. The presence hit my mind again and I looked about me for an answer to what could be making me feel this way. Was it just panic? Was I imagining things?

Crackle Crackle. A sound came from a tunnel behind me. It was someone else crawling over the plastic! Coming closer and closer. It wasn’t family, they would have called my name. How could someone else possibly find this obscure place? Was there any way out? Should I warn them?

Terror seized me and I didn’t stop to see who it was. I only kept going as fast as I could. I entered tunnels that seemed to be new and different, darker, mossier, colder. The sun may have been setting and it was making the playset dark. But I didn’t even feel like I had the time to look outside. I kept hearing the sound of someone chasing me. They seemed to be trying to go faster to catch up. I was certain now. The tunnels were different. The plastic became a darker hue and the wood seemed to be rotting as I progressed. I wasn’t getting anywhere but infinitely forward!

In the midst of my panic I turned my head behind to see my pursuer. It did not make me any easier to see his face. A creature. A zombie. A deformed man with burnes. These were all apt descriptions for him. The figure of snarling teeth and drool, and blood oozing from his being. I crawled faster. Still getting nowhere. Now I could hear the sound of sweat dripping from his forehead and hitting the plastic as he clamored to reach me.

This won’t end. As the tunnels began to change, it felt as if time was speeding forward. Like watching an apple rot. The tunnels were rotting. Was I rotting too? Was I aging like this? It didn’t feel like it.

He continued to get closer. His flesh looked rotten and red. Black smudges littered his body and face. I could only tell because I had decided to stop. This thing of a man is going to kill me one way or another. In exhaustion, I leaned my back against the wall of the tunnel. His speed slowed and he crawled cautiously towards me. His face got very close and then he stopped getting closer. His eyes, with very little eyelid to cover them, looked over and studied my face. His hand lifted. I thought he was going to grab me or hurt me in some way, but he did not touch my person. His hand lifted to make a gesture. He backed up in a squat like a monkey and his fingers motioned for me to follow. What choice did I have? Hesitant, I followed.

The creature man led me back all the way through the tunnels. Time reversed, and the rotten wood and mossy plastic looked newer but still dusty like it was when I entered. We reached the opening of the slide, in the exact spot where I thought it should be, but wasn’t. My heart nearly stopped. I really didn’t think this nightmare would ever end.

Briskly going down the slide, I looked back at his face but he did not seem to follow. Now I was back outside in the sand. It’s still just sunset. It had been hours now and it was still sunset. Wearlily I walked in the direction I had come from. Stopping to look back I peered into the dark opening of the slide and saw only his face with his body leaning upward behind it. He gave me an almost sinister-looking smile but I sensed in it the comfort of a friend.

Back on my way home I passed the cactus and followed back onto the trail with the flat rock. It was darker. Looking up, I saw the moon. It had turned nighttime almost instantly.

Description: This dream is one I once had as a very young child. At the time I had a series of horrible nightmares with monsters and demons galore. This is the only dream I had in my entire life where the villain helped me. I suppose the deformed zombie man wasn’t a villain at all but he was horrific. His face so hideous, that just thinking about ever seeing him in a dream again, scares the crap out of me. Nothing, not even the other monsters in other dreams, has ever scared me more than this man. My nightmares have always been an important part of my life since they started but I have always felt detached from the characters in them. Like people always say, “It’s just a dream, it’s not real”. This has felt true for all of my dreams except a small few, including this one. It felt like a place on another plane of existence where a real man was suffering alone in this very real place. He was very much not a figment of my imagination but a person I cannot see how it would ever be possible that I would dream him up. A thought so random, unlike many of my dreams, there is no way it came from my own mind. I cannot remember exactly what age I had this dream but since then I have had other dreams at my Grandmother's house, and every time I am there, I try and fail to find the trail that leads to this ominous playground set. I know that if I can never find the trail and the playground set with tunnels, I can never see him again. Even though he scares me very much, I know that I must meet him again, now that I am an adult. A man that suffered a terrible fire, perhaps in the playset itself, and is destined to wander the tunnels of a magical maze forever. Suspended in time, like the tunnels age the further you go, his bleeding will never stop and his wounds will never heal. A real person. A real human being suspended in eternal suffering for reasons I do not know. I want to know.