"Well! I'm never coming back again! Ficken dummkopf!" the rude customer yells, her violet eyes narrowed. She glares at the barista, who looks shocked and offended.

I put my head in my hands as she storms off.

I then get up and order my coffee as sweet as it can be. I'm also sweet as can be to the poor barista, smiling and talking in a soothing voice. Then I notice something. A black wallet with the initials HM on it in golden leather.

"Um, excuse me?" I almost say to the barista, but end up swallowing my words. Instead, I say quickly to her, "Um, miss, can you save my coffee for a sec? I need to go do something very quickly. Thanks!" She nods at me to go, placing my coffee on the counter behind her.

I sprint out the door of the cafe, glad that I didn't wear my heels today, and spot the woman turning the corner. I will myself to speed up and eventually catch up to her, halfway up the next street.

"W-Wait!" I pant, holding the wallet out to her. "I-is this yours?"

She glanced critically at the wallet, then her look softens. "Ah. Danke." She then shakes her head. "Wait. No. In English. Okay...thank you for returning my wallet." She leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry for being rude, it's just that I had a bad day today and the line was long. Entschuldigung for making you run so far. By the way, my name is Hyacinth."

I smile slightly, "And my name is Lightning. You're welcome for the wallet, it really wasn't that far...but try to reign in your emotions next time. The poor barista's a bit put down."

Hyacinth shrugged. "Whoops. Well, I'd better be off. Tschuss!"

I blinked. "She just shrugged it off? Oh well, I'm not going to chase after her again." I jogged back to the cafe and took my coffee, thanking the barista very much for putting up with Hyacinth and giving her a tip.

I walked back home, thinking about the encounter with the rude woman and the poor barista...

This would make a very good story...

Sew my eyes

Blind me from truth

Staple my mouth

Leave me mute

Plug my ears

Silence my doubt

Cast me aside

With nothing to lose

I'm pushed to the finish

I continue to work

My body heavy

My eyes hurting from the light

When all I want to do

Is curl up in the darkness

And cry.

One day I found her walking with my grandpa.

She wore long, silky dresses and cherry lipstick

Her eyes dark voids of love bid farewell to him

And I stared at her for a long time, almost a lifetime

“Dime, tell me, do you want to dance?”

I accepted such dark invitation

Dance, oh dance!

Please don’t touch me

Just keep moving to this rhythm

The rhythm of “Llorona”

She kept smiling offering flowers to me

Cempasuchil, just like her perfume and her breath

She smelled like coffee, sweet bread, tamales, and mole

She finally sat, and I offered her tequila, she gladly accepted.

“Dime, why do people think I like to carry a scythe?

I like to dance with people

I like to see them smile

I like to see them bid me farewell after a long talk”

I tried to look into those empty eyes of her

She only seemed pleased

She never complained

I knew her job

She carried many people on their way back home

I said, bonita, why do you have such task?

She smiled again, and said,

“Life is not cruel. The ones who are cruel are all of you

You dare not live your lives

You dare not live your lives because of money

You cut each other with words sharper than a scythe

You spent your lives thinking about the future which does not exist

And you keep thinking about the past which is already dead (giggles)

You dare not love because you hate all of those who harmed you

You dare not love because you are afraid to love again

Yet you dare blame me when I come to pay a visit”

I undestand, flaquita, my petite lady, I replied.

Here’s is a rose for you.

She said, “Thanks. But roses are only

for the ones whose hearts are still beating

Cempasuchil is for the ones

who are lost in their way to Heaven

They’ll be more than glad to receive a flower like that.

Now, Señora mia, my lady,

Why are you always smiling?

She said, “Why be sad when one is resting?

There is only joy in knowing you’re going to Nirvana, Sky, or Heaven

It does not matter where you’re going or where you are from

Your journey here is over

You’re starting another one

Take it as if you were moving

Plus you don’t have to carry any boxes or luggage

Only a sack of sins and joys

Now, perplexed, I only saw how she stood up and

Cracked her knuckles and neck

and began to sing

With such a splendid and sweet voice:

“Life is a candle

Hidden in Tajin

Quetzalcoatl carries it

Mictlantecuhtli watches

Anubis guides you and weighs your soul

While mighty God in Nirvana awaits

Life is a candle and when it gets weaker,

Inside the temples of Tajin

It is time for me to blow it off

And guide you through this path

This is the path where lovers meet

This is the path were lovers’ love never dies

That’s the only love from me my dearest children

La Catrina awaits for you...

In the temples of Tajin

And now is time for you to come.”

As she stopped singing such sweetest song,

I took her hand, and walked with her

Is time to come, is time to smile

The candle goes off...

DA 2015

I'm sorry.

I really am.

If you feel like you need to cut, I'm sorry.

Sometimes I feel like I may want to, but can't put the blade to my skin.

Or even pick up the blade.

You must feel horrible, day in, day out.

You're depressed, I know.

But all this can change.

It might not be easy, but it can.

You can branch out,

Meet new people.

It might not come naturally,

But laughter is the best medicine.

Sometimes.

Friends are wonderful.

They are there for you.

Go out of your comfort zone

And maybe you'll find yourself.

Maybe you'll be happier.

Maybe you'll find true love.

I know that you might feel broken now,

But life has its ups and downs.

You'll reach your "up" someday soon.

I promise.

But sometimes you need to make a change.

Its for for the best,

Trust me.

You won't regret it.

Please throw the blade away.

I'll be your new friend today.

Death is a funny little bastard. Many people fear it and spend their whole life focused on avoiding it... and they never get to live, as they cannot escape their morbid obsession with their own oblivion. It is inevitable and often unpredictable and this truly can be frightening. You can say that you simply are not ready to die because you've just got so much left to do and accomplish and you just CAN'T die...

But, let's face it. I could drop dead in the middle of writing a single word and there would be nothing that I could do about it. I won't rise again on the third day and walk around until I ascend to heaven. That's just not going to happen to any of us.

No, we don't get to choose the last thing that we say to someone before we can no longer talk at all. We don't get to choose if we are going to live another day or not, at least not usually.

And this brings me to one of the worse ways to die. Suicide.

No, suicide isn't just when you shoot your brains out. It is so much more. It is a horrible and slow way to die, as you have lost any will to live days or weeks or months or years before you pull the trigger or pick up the knife.

It is a deterioration of the soul, a deep ditch of depression that you simply do not believe you can muster the strength to crawl out of.

It is when you simply have no other choice but to die and when death doesn't come on its own, you take your fate into your own hands.

I once knew a girl who often contemplated suicide. She cut into the soft flesh of her "fat" wrists as she tried to wash the pain of life away. I gave her every encouraging word that I could and listened to the personal hell she lived in, trying to understand how one young woman could take all of this stress and still have some sliver of life left in her... She went a week or two without cutting and suddenly it turned into months... She wore her scars proudly while I begged her to not add another. Thankfully, she has been feeling exponentially better but many people cannot say the same for themselves...

I know that there are countless ways to die. Many are painless, while others make you impatient for the event of your own death.

Any thing at all that lessens your will to live is horrible, whether it is severe bullying or a diagnosis of cancer. Death seems unfair no matter how you get there.

But, death itself is nothing to fear. It is an end to all pain.

No, it is wiser to fear anything that forces you to wish for death, anything that crushes your soul and destroys your spirits.

We are gifted with life, but it only becomes terrifying when you see it as nothing but a curse.

Never again you swine. Blonde roast, house blends, this might as well be tea. Take off that apron you heartless fool, you have a date with poverty. No you will not get a tip, this is worse than off brand instant.

I never trusted you, I trusted the uniform. I have a gold card here and you betrayed that loyalty.

You there, new kid, Venti Quad Toffee Nut Mocha Ristretto.

After 30 seconds of careful consideration I've decided to answer this question the way I would if I were being asked by someone in real life. I hate contrived writing so more often than not I think my own answers feel rehearsed but honestly it's just me being contemplative.

My weaknesses are all related to patience with the editorial process. I despise finding and correcting errors myself, but doubly so when someone else finds them.

If I didn't know better I'd think we get egoistic about anything we create because it feels intensely personal. I'm way to into to commas and it has nearly led to fights when someone spots another misuse and says something like, "another comma huh?" Like I went ahead of them reading and intentionally added that comma after the last one bugged them. If I had those kinds of powers I'd be fighting crime.

My strengths, I write about so many subjects that I have to say versatility. A good trick for that is having a strong enough voice to research while you write without it becoming obvious. I might come off as an expert on more subject material than I should but the trick to that is being thorough in your studying. Is my writing actually any good? Who knows? I guess my readers like my books, if it turns out they just like me that's okay too.

~ B.Taylor Author of AlwaysInTao & 18 other books.