The outline of my soul

splashed on a canvas

exists only in my imagination

wavelengths of light

in disappearing edges

perceptions of my intensity

undertone and luminosity

extracting meaning

from my world

heat of my body

color of daylight

iridescence of energy.

I recoiled in horror at the thought of Jade with a new husband. “What are your plans for the new man in your life? Don’t you think that it is dangerous to be married again to someone because of your aberrant tendencies?"

“Don’t worry so much, Dr. Cohen,” cajoled Jade. “If anything were to happen to Jim, it would not be at my hands. I can tell you, for sure, that I have learned from the lessons of the past.” Jade knew this statement to be true because she was learning new skills every day in her quest for wealth.

“If you really believe someone is watching you,” I warned, “don’t do anything to your new husband. What if your thoughts are not in your imagination and you are in someone’s crosshairs?” I wanted to put a healthy fear into Jade’s heart so she would not commit anything untoward. None of the former murders could be pinned to Jade and I knew that she was too smart to be caught if another death occurred.

Jade had told me about snowmobiling with friends while the men, and some of the women, including Jade, hunted for game. I didn’t like the thoughts of guns being anywhere near Jade. “Be careful while you are around firearms,” I cautioned. “They’re very dangerous and accidents can happen! Don’t forget that snowmobiles can be hazardous also, in the wrong hands.”

“Dr. Cohen, you know that accidents never happen around me. Accidents only happened around fools and you know that I am no fool!”

Somehow, this pronouncement did not reassure me but Jade was unwilling to talk any longer and concluded the phone call. There was nothing that I could do now that would change the course of the future but I did have an idea that was already developing in my mind and that I had put partially into play. But Jade, as intelligent as she thought she was, had no inkling of my ideas to stop her future course of action. I just hoped that I would not be too late to prevent the death of this present husband or others in the impending progression of Jade’s life. Jade was confident in having the ability to develop and carry to conclusion her schemes. However, after listening to her confide in me, I knew that I would have the strength to thwart her. A true psychopath feels impervious to all outside threats but she did not consider me a hindrance. I planned to take advantage of her feeling of omnipotence, giving her no indication of my abilities. I felt that I could dangle her from a string and manipulate her according to my desires. It is possible that I was assuming too much power in trying to influence her life but I welcomed the challenge. But, as it turned out, I was no match for Jade.

‘We need you to get some Leprechaun gold George,’ Molly stated, as a matter of fact.

George sat there open mouthed.

‘Some what?’ he replied.

‘Leprechaun gold – that’s why you have the Myths and Legends survival guide,’ said Molly.

‘But why? Do you think we’ll need some kind of ransom for my parents?’

George was now finding it hard to take all this in.

‘No,’ said Molly, shaking her head. ‘Let me explain. When you go back to see the Captain and Lady Jane they won’t know who you are, right’

‘Yes, you explained that, but where does the Leprechaun gold come into it?’

‘I was coming to that,’ Molly protested.

‘Oh, sorry,’ said George.

‘Well, the first owner of Arrington hall, the man who had the house built and hid the scroll, realised the potential of the library, in being able to come back in time and visit past ancestors, like him for instance.’

‘Okay.’ George wasn’t convinced.

Molly rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

‘He also realised the importance of the three scrolls and that one day it was bound to happen, but he couldn’t risk just anybody hearing about it and then turning up and claiming to be a long lost relative or a future one for that matter. He figured he would have to come up with a secret code or something so they could be sure who it was.’

‘So when I go back into their history,’ he said, hurriedly, ‘they will know who I am and help me if I give them some of the Leprechaun gold.’

‘Yes, by George, he’s got it, if you’ll pardon the expression.’ She exclaimed. ‘A simple piece of normal gold was not enough. He had to make it something rare and very hard to get hold of.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ George said, nervously.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Molly, ‘the survival guide you have there was compiled by the same man, after extensive research. It’s the only one to have ever been published. Your parents must have taken it from the library to hide it in your trunk.’

‘But wouldn’t you have noticed them doing this?’ George asked.

‘Look, just because I’m a member of the undead, it doesn’t mean I don’t like to have a rest or a snooze now and again,’ She protested. ‘ It can get boring in here sometimes, especially when no-one visits for years on end, and as for that lot, well, they never stop sleeping – and snoring, loudly,’ she added, with consternation, glancing at the old paintings on the wall, with the ink figures fidgeting restlessly within their frames..

‘It all sounds a bit long winded,’ George moaned, ‘Couldn’t he have just invented a secret handshake or something?’

‘No, that would have been too easily tortured out of someone. This way was safer.’

George gulped.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ he said. ‘If it’s so hard to do, why isn’t Uncle Felix doing it, instead of me?’

Molly could see the point George was making, but she also understood what his Uncle’s reasoning might have been.

‘Maybe your Uncle thought it was time for you to know about the family’s legacy,’ she suggested, ‘or that you had come of age, what with everything that’s happened recently in your life.’

Molly hesitated for a moment, and then decided that George needed to know the full story.

‘Also,’ she said, ‘your uncle hasn’t been in the library since before you were born.’

George was taken aback. His Uncle had been only too eager to point him in the direction of the library that morning. What could have possibly happened to make him not want to go back in? George shrugged his shoulders. Maybe instead of explaining everything to him, and have George believe he was a mad old fool, his Uncle had reckoned it would be better for him to discover the library for himself.

‘So why won’t he come back in here then?’ George said.

‘Well,’ Molly hesitated, ’it’s because of something that happened in a book he was visiting.

She sat, or rather hovered, into the chair opposite George and bowed her head.

‘He fell in love,’ she murmured.

‘Really,’ George shouted, smiling. ‘Good for him – but I don’t understand, why is that such a bad thing?’

‘Because it could never last, it was doomed from the start,’ Molly cried. 'The story cannot continue beyond a certain point and characters cannot be taken out of the books, only the odd prop that is not central to the main storyline, like some of the things you see in this house, or the silver keys for example.’

‘Oh,’ George said, simply.

It was obvious from the forlorn look on everyone’s faces, and of Molly’s especially, that this had been a very upsetting time when it had happened, all those years ago. His Uncle had obviously been much loved and was now severely missed.

‘So….what happened,’ he stammered, ‘I mean what book did it happen in?’

Molly looked up, her ghostly eyes red around the edges.

‘Have you heard of a book called 1001 Arabian nights,’ she said.

‘Er….vaguely.’

’Well, basically, the story is based around the tale of a princess who is due to be executed the following day by her husband the King, but each night she tells him a story, leaving it at a crucial moment to be continued the following evening.

‘Eager to know how the story continues he gives her a stay of execution, so that he can find out what happened next. Well she managed to continue this for 1001 nights.’

George listened intently, while Molly continued.

‘Well, your Uncle Felix went into the book and fell in love with the princess. Believing that her time was running out and that she really would be executed he came up with a daring plan to rescue her. But, it all went wrong I’m afraid…he headed back to the portal hand in hand with the princess, chased by axe wielding guards. Except the only problem was’, Molly sobbed, ‘is that upon reaching this side he was on his own, she couldn’t come through. It was only a fictional book so it also meant he couldn’t go back into it either.’

‘Blimey, he must’ve been devastated,’ George said.

‘Yes he was. You see even though she was only a made up character George,’ Molly added, ’to him it was all very real. He swore never to come back into the library, and since that day, he never has.’

*

George stood, staring at the closed up doorway, in anticipation. The patterned paper on the wall started to come together and swirl around into a whirlpool of colours, like a dancing rainbow. It was as if the library knew what George’s intentions were. The colours then began to stretch out into the distance and it was almost as if he could see what was on the other side, but rippled, like looking into a pool of water, gently wafted by the wind. He felt every nerve ending in his body jangling within him, and on the tips of his fingers, as he gripped the Myths and Legends book tightly in his right hand. He had never felt so nervous in all of his life. He had also never felt so alive.

‘So you know what to do,’ Molly repeated.

‘Yes, Molly,’ he shouted back, ‘you’ve told me enough times and I’ve got the book as well if I need to check anything.’

He took several deep breaths and counted to three in his head before declaring;

‘Okay, here goes,’ he yelled.

He ran as hard and fast as he could across the room and, with a loud whumph, disappeared into the portal.

"Where did I put my glasses, huh?

Where did I put my keys?

I swear I had some dreams, in here,

some aces up my sleeves.

Where did all my years go, boy?

Where are all my friends?"

Said Grampa to his old bird dog

somewhere near the end.

sweet persuasion

rest against my chest

i am full of devotion

if you ain't got none left.

i can listen to the downfall,

sunshine or depression,

it keeps me going on

this ocean.

battle against

the current.

i have fortressed a place

in perfect seclusion,

all for you to come to your senses

and a conclusion

that you were meant to be

here with me.

and if this sweet persuasion

doesn't get you to admit it,

then i'll go about things

in another dimension.

i'll try something more like

annihilation

of every fucking thing

until its just you and me in isolation.

and then you will have to see

that you must be

the answer to

my equation.

My heart thrives within the solitary confinement that is home.

Even though asthma is my arsonist and weed is the gasoline.

My liver is muddy from desperately trying to drown my insecurities.

My Brain can't see clearly as the silver line blurs into thin air.

This polygon is becoming more like my pancreas, slowly becoming irritated until it POPS-

Putting poison in my body. Wondering if this makes a 15cm organ an internal terrorist.

At home I made all my family disappear- magic. Each handkerchief stretching the distance, hoping to receive a pity applause for what I've done.

God have mercy on my soul. But God doesn't have mercy on the damned.

I was moving up the pyramid scheme, each brick becoming a boulder of benevolence behind bated breath and hissing tongues.

I was Icarus.

Given wings by my father, warned not  to get too involved with the politicians and not to dive into the sea of common men.

Trying to escape from selection-I was a sheep in the Slaughter House.

I was on top  and too close to the sun, at the  promise of power, drugs and money.

I was plucked. Cut my teeth on civilian concrete.

I tried to hide the fact that I was poor.

I ended up going church with Demons, wholeheartedly worshipping a weeping angel.

They were feasting off of the time that I could have used searching for a reason to wake up in the morning.Tithes crushed my credit to pieces.

I was drowning in debt, cashing in checks when I had nothing to withdraw.

I dragged my way to the bank trying to avoid robbery, and thanked them for the food I was given.

I was surviving, even though I didn't want to.

I searched for help...and no one came.

And I went to where my heart was, pulled out the rope, and fixed everything.

And I went home.

Am I doing good enough?

Will you be proud of who I am?

I love you with my entire heart,

I want you to always say can.

I want you to see me succeed,

To have something to aspire to,

Instead of thinking life is guaranteed,

I want you to always say do.

In my life I've had struggles,

They've made me resilient,

I wish to teach you these things,

And make your life brilliant,

Without assembling life's puzzles,

A sentience without troubles.

I cannot envisage your fate,

I cannot guarantee that my dreams for you are true,

I can only be superlative,

And envelope you in loves hue,

My son,

I'd do anything for you.

Say goodbye to the sun

You are now a child of night

Free, untamed and wild

Free to fly

But unable to ever die

There is no place for us in heaven

We no longer care about anyone, my brethren

There is no fear in our dark inhuman eyes

As we lift our black wings to the inky sky

The night is cool and loving, our long lost friend

And this feeling of being alive again

Echoes through our non existent souls

There is no sound in the airless night

Only our shallow breathing

Our dead hearts almost beating

We are the danger that you fear

The terror that makes you scared

We are your nightmares come to life

A silent threat here to destroy your child

Come we whisper, join us

Secrets of our scintillating adventures

And they come, undoubting our intentions

Believing our illusions and pretences

We are at peace with who we are

A blood cold killer, the monster

Living through the ages

Conducting a thousand different wars and rages

An eternal era of destruction and chaos

We are the demons

We have no shred of fear

We don’t have the patience to care

We fly to the stars

Brilliant pulsing lights dance

Reflecting on our beautiful faces

And our excitement is tangible in the air

Silently speaking of illegal chases

Can’t you feel us here?

Pure undiluted evil

We are the children of the dark

The ones who know nothing of love

For us it’s just the thrill of the hunt

The need for blood, the want

Someone’s death, to take their last breath

We do not have regrets

But still we don’t forget

Yet you cannot ever go back

Once you have tasted our dark desire

That daunting yet dazzling black fire

That glitters through our cold blood

Like a fast flowing river

There is no getting over the addiction

It’s become our passion, our fascination

Dawn is coming

We feel it on our skin

The slight singe

The sting, the light burn

We descend over the still silent world

Our movements unheard

Deep underground we hide

The earth conceals us as her secret

With no one to confide

Until darkness comes to claim us

We will rest

Underneath a blanket of sand

Hidden underground

Our eyes begin to close

And we enter the unknown . . .

We sat, two

sentinels in the night--

the oil burning in

hungry simmer, the house

quieting to the ghosts' coming-

out, your pulse almost

edible. Goodnight, I said,

and left.  

I looked better then

Not so tired round the eyes

Nor so sad through the mouth

No weight on my shoulders

No creak in my knees

I felt better then

Not so world weary

Nor so anxious and scared

No sigh in my smile

No tear in my eyes