I felt her loveliness

slipping inside my skin

to nestle next to my heart.

She brushed our world

with sublime paint strokes,

blurred flashbacks

of memory upon her brow.

She touched the promise

of rose petals in soft blush

as the sun sketched

roadway to her open soul.

She offered the sweet scent

of her neck in depth

of her love and caring,

passion soaring

above the filmy clouds.

I watched the beauty

of her like melting butter

on toast, meandering

through life and love,

together with me,

in the melody of

our shared song

wandering on our path

of soft blades of grass.

   Everyday we discover something new. At first, we thought bacteria were independent organisms. To our surprise we discovered they actually communicated with each other through a medium we call, quorum sensing. Just when I thought the real excitement of discovery was coming to an end. On my fourth tour at the Amazon jungle, in a park full of  brown-throated sloths and golden-headed manakins, I stumbled upon a Picasso.

      That day, march 4, 2017, I can never forget. After taking lots of pictures of a lek of manakins practicing their courtship dance. I sat beneath a Cocos nicifera tree. In my bag pack, I had a sandwich, chocolate bread stuffed with peanut butter  and jam. To drink, a bottle of   Pepsi. Hmm! Can't wait to get started. While the delicious meal took my breath away. I felt something moving at my back. At first, it was soothing. I thought to myself, maybe its just my reaction to such salivating meal. That movement gradually became uncomfortable. I stopped eating, took a step forward and turned to see a transparent fluid as shapeless as amoeba.It was moving from the root of the Cocos nicifera tree to a pile of loamy soil close by. At that moment I did not notice that my camera had switched to camcorder mode, and, it was busy recording that awkward moment. I took a piece of dried branch and tried to pin it down, but it ran into a hole that I did not notice earlier. In my 15 years as a zoologist, I have never read or seen anything like that 9 inch amorphous monstrous fluid . After about five minutes still rapped in shock, my thoughts became aligned. "Why didn't I take a picture of that thing?" I asked myself. The only proof I thought I had was my shirt. That guy must have put some of its genetic material on me. I pulled off my shirt and placed it in a nylon bag. My shirt, just became a specimen.

     Heart broken, the spirit of excitement that made me take pictures left me. I switched off my camera and returned to my hotel room. My aid, Herrera was excited to upload my pictures from the camera to the system. He's always excited. After some minutes of awkward silence, I got worried and asked,

                                      "Herrera, what is it?"

He looked at me with a curious smile and answered.

                              "Mr Albrighton, What is this? "

I turned my attention to the monitor and saw the video of the monstrous  fluid organism that I just encountered. My mood glowed brighter than the dog star. It was like that classic moment in a movie where  a mans life is about to change in a split of  seconds. I grabbed Herrera by his head, with my both hands and kissed his forehead.

            "This, my boy, is my ticket to the hall of fame."

I knew I had to take every step with absolute care because, I'm not the only hungry explorer in this parts. I told Herrera to spend the night in my room and begged him not to share what he just saw with anything alive.

Taking a closer look at the video, I observed something. I thought I saw the amorphous transparent fluid organism go into a hole. But what I saw in the video amazed me. The giant disguised it body shape as a circle and sat on the soil like a chocolate cup cake. To me it looked  like a hole because the transparent fluid deceived me eyes like a magnifying glass. It magnified the black spot I saw by making it look like an infinite hole. This guy is a chameleon cheat. A mimic octopus philosopher stone. It was able to this, in a blink of an eye. It was right in front of me all along. I must think carefully on how to study it, capture it. And maybe, just maybe, I would get a Nobel prize for biology.

       The next day, march 5, 2017, I woke that morning with a weird eccentric feeling. Its like I was in an action movie, where the good guy wakes up with great aspiration and fire. And in the background, a slow charismatic tune that sets the audience on an imaginative ledge. 

      KNOCK!!!!   KNOCK!!! HOUSE KEEPING!

That must be Mrs Mariana. I can identify her lovely voice any time any day. Herrera sluggishly reached for the door and let her in.

     "Senior Al-bite-ton, I see you and Herrera have been busy all night."

     "How many times will I tell you Mrs Mariana its Albrighton."

      "OK! I brought fresh towels, slippers and your dry cleaned soldier shorts and shirts."

"Oh! Thank you Mrs Mariana you are a darling. Hmm! Are those lemon I smell." 

                    "Yes, its our own locally made starch"

                 "Wow! I never get tired of hearing you say that"

           "Herrera, make sure you wash up  quickly, and learn from senior Al-bite-ton.       

           Some day you will save us from those big pockets who are tearing down our           heritage and calling it modern globalization."

        "Yes ma!"

      "Mrs Mariana, I would love some hot cocoa with ginger and six tea spoon of evaporated milk."

        "OK! senior Al-bite-ton, I'll make that for you."

She gently leaves the room and closes the door behind her. I looked at Herrera and said,

        "When will she learn to pronounce my name right?"

He smiled like always and nodded his head sideways. After few minutes of taking turn in the shower, my hot cocoa as ordered was on point. My day was ready to get right on track. Herrera in his own way was ready for my first speech about our classified mission that we were about to begin. With a giant loaf of bread on his right hand and a pocket knife covered with peanut butter, that awkward silence rang in my ears.

       "Now listen carefully, we have a big day ahead of us. First, we must plan on how each event must occur, and avoid unwanted  suspicion. We have a good advantage and bad a advantage.The bad news is, I don't have a personal lab. The person that I know that does, is a giant pain in the ass. Do you know what I mean?"

                    "Yes, I certainly do"

           "OK! I need a sophisticated lab to analyze the DNA of that amorphous  monstrous transparent  fluid organism."

           "That is a long name. Since this is more like a covet op... Why not AMT!"

          "No! that will surely attract suspicion. We have to cloak that abbreviation in a word of some sort. Like, uncle Sam for United states of America. It as to be close to common words used every day."

          "Why don't you take the video to the institute of zoology in London and get all the help you need?"

         "Not in these days of media apocalypse. You don't go to those guys half corked. Someone may snatch my discovery right under my nose. I need to do much more than that. Proof that it exist."

           "But, Mr Albrighton, that is a difficult task."

           "That why we are scientist. we fight till we get the result we want. If we get this right. Our names will be remembered for generations.  So, are you in or out."

             "I'm definitely in. Besides, you won't survive a day in the jungle without my help."

          "That's true, now, on the name, hmm!!! what do you think about, amtracks"

            "No! Water is a good common name for such thing. Since we know its transparent and shapeless. Pure water is transparent and sometimes look shapeless. It takes the shape of its containing vessel."

           "You see, we have just started, and you proof to be a genius already. Yes! Water it is. To the good news, of which you just did. We have our initiatives to guide on this journey. One other  thing we can observe from the video is that it was on the stem of a Cocos nicifera tree and like chameleon it can blend in with its immediate background and like the mimic octopus it possesses the ability to  impersonate. In this case, it impersonated a hole. Which can only mean that this organism is a lot more smarter than it looks."

                "We must answer the question why now? Until this moment, why haven't we as humans discovered this organism? Have this organism been right under our noses all this time. Is it a result of today activities, i.e Did it undergo evolution. Having a parent family from the group of living organism that we know or is it a complete alien (from  another planet). I'm sure much more questions will pop up as we go on.

   Your today duty is to find out all you can about the Cocos nicifera tree. Water was on it for a reason. Since it might have perceive my disturbance while I took pictures. Why didn't it hide from me. Why did it let me relax on it? Gosh... I might be undergoing some kind of change in personality as we speak. Their is about a million possibility as to what may be going on. So like I said, you take Cocos nicifera"

             "What about you Mr Albrighton, what will you do today."

             "I  will, go to the pain in the ass friend of mine that as a lab here in Brazil. And try to find out what kind of DNA sequence that organism possesses."

             "How are you going to do that. You don't have a specimen"

            "I do, my shirt, the one I put yesterday. It in a nylon in my bag pack . Thank God for forensics, I think I can salvage something from it."

        "Let the games begin..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

3/15/17 Entry 1

I stared into its face, half hidden with shadows, a savage beast that our team had managed to capture. We've been hunting the devil for ages, and at long last we have detained it. Do you know what this could mean? For the future of science? For the future of our entire race? Do you know how many questions we'll finally have answers to? And of course when we are done studying and experimenting on it we will release it into a controlled environment in a nice zoo with a wild life conservation program. We simply cannot deny the people the opportunity to observe such an exotic and intriguing specimen. However I am questioning the safety of such an exhibit. Of course there would be added safety precautions unlike that of the other animals on display. Perhaps a bullet proof screen would be appropriate? At the moment we have restrained the creature with chains-loose fitting of course, we can't have any animal right organizations taking it away when we are so close to getting it to cooperate. It's in a dark unadorned room, no stimulation that could possibly trigger its primal instincts, and every day we've been trying out different diets it might respond to. It was wearing strange things on its body over its dirty looking skin, and we've stripped it of them to examine the garments. The animal seems to be very upset over this confiscation, it keeps making strange noises, and tries covering certain parts of its body. We will keep you posted as new information about the subject emerges.

3/16/17 Entry 2

I know not the meaning or significance behind this revelation, but we've found a piece of cloth in the same area we found the creature and the ship it used for transportation. It's clearly not from our world, its of a strange scratchy material and is dyed in red, white, and blue-with markings all over it. We are hoping the subject may show some emotional response to it.

I unfold my soul straddled on razor sharp edge.

Life is shoving me relentlessly over bottomless abyss.

Searching aimlessly for the hidden periphery

of insanity, I hastily gather it into pockets of my mind,

throwing meaningless words into yawning mouth.

Top spinning round and round hits a brick wall,

hiding on teetering verge of throbbing madness,

hovering on the fringe of where I was yanked,

trying to avoid being pummeled by reality.

One half hangs over the ledge, trapped in

a void consumed by unhappy endings.

As I watch the frantic rise and fall of my chest,

cracks in my faint heart swallow me whole.

The old man slammed his fist down on the dainty Formica tabletop, unnerving the peaceful aura of the small coffee-shop. “Damn-it…! What do you mean? — Over use of dashes, you turd nozzle. I like writing with dashes. It’s rooted in the very essence of my own persona, you need them to know where to pause, — for emphasis!”

Jace looked at the older man and knew he was kidding. Ben may have looked angry to anyone else, but the younger man could read him, well, like a book. He smiled slightly at the mental pun. Enjoying the coffee, his companion, the books they had written, and the banter that was to come.

Ben kept his scowl and brought his coffee to his lip. Jace stared at in disgust. Probably some pansy latte heavy on the sugar and whipped cream and lacking any true substance.

Once the older man took his sip the grey of his beard gained some white, said beaten cream nestled into the thick facial hair. Ben didn’t seem to care, which was normal. This was a man that when he was in his mid-forties told people his was 50, because reasons and stuff.  He cared little of the opinion of others, save for Jace’s and few choice friends, which, he really did have any? Jace didn’t mind, he happened to be in the same shitty boat.

“Don't get pissed at me, I am just saying what they said at the writers group.” Jace stared at the wooden slab that made up their current beverage supporter. He decided to take his first swing in the coming battle of words. A flicker of thought dashed through his mind and elicited a smiled. “And stop beating the wood counter — or any wood in general for the matter. Though, this is pine and thus a soft wood. And while you may have experience trying to beat soft wood, don’t do so in public—or in my presence.” He waited, unsure as if he went too far. Did the jab cross the line? But Jace chuckled; it was something he could never resist. His mind and mouth did have a habit getting ahead of his good sense. It was something he had learned from Ben.

There he goes with the old fart jokes. Chip off the old block! Bring it. “Hey—I will have you know I have plenty of experience working soft wood,— especially with exotics. But this is fake wood,—— laced with formaldehyde. You know? Embalming fluid, just like your sex life. And if I need to pound something right NOW. Let’s go out back.”

Jace saw Ben smile ever so slightly. Barely a blip on older man’s façade of fury, but there none-the-less. Jace took this as encouragement and went on. “You-know,— you’re kind-a’ a douche bag since you stopped consuming gluten. This is what happens when you can't have a proper beer.”

“Real men drink hard-cider —wuss. You and that amber colored armadillo piss you call a beverage.” The old man barked back. “When’s the last time you caught a buzz off that shit anyway,” he smirked taking a sip of his caramel frap.

Jace shook his head. He drank cheap beer, he knew it. When one had to buy beer on a budget and had to choose between quality and getting a buzz economically, anyone with a shine of good sense drank it. Besides, Jace knew his beer tasted like crap, not piss, slight deference in his mind, not necessarily a good one, but still. He took a sip of his coffee.  “And how precisely do you know the flavor of armadillo urine? That is also an odd comparison considering how closely apple cider appears piss like. Besides, I drink Steel Reserve, 8.1 alcohol by volume, thank you very much. A buzz is easy, and the flavor, while not tainted with urine is okay once you get past the taste.”

“Yeah, I saw a documentary on the brewing of that shit; they had a room full of them armored leathery rodents pissin’ in the vats.  …That’s why it’s hard to get past the taste.—8.1—— Lightweight, probably get wasted on less than a can.”

“I would hate to see your google history. Where did you see this fabled documentary? Netflix? If so, your Netflix's suggestions for what to watch must be really weird.”

“Yeah, Your momma!”

Jace snorted mid-coffee sip. "You are absolutely NOT allowed to say yo’ momma."

“Oh,—— yeah.” Now, here comes the long winded blah, blah, blah — his mom being a virgin and all! Snicker

“Yeah. The purpose of a yo’ momma joke is to impugn the reputation of one’s mother and imply a diddling, usually in rather dirty manner, that would be otherwise unlikely.”

“My point exactly?” Now I’m going to be too white. Chuckle.

“Namely, you being way too old and way too white for yo’ momma jokes? My biggest issue with the whole you and the yo’ mommas is the fact my mother is your wife and thus a diddling, nasty or otherwise, which—eww — is a forgone conclusion therefore defeating the whole point of your — yo’ momma rebuttal.”

“I think it hammered my point quite well.”

“Certainly, five times at the very least.”

“So in forty years of marriage I’ve only yo’ momma’d five time? Right?

“Again, ewww. Insertion of thoughts that involve you and mom commingling harm my innocent little brain.”

“Hmmm, — by your logic, you’ve only been lucky three times? Must be a side effect of armadillo piss.”

“I am 35 years old, I am absolutely NOT discussing my sex life with you. Besides, it is a little late for the 'talk'.”

“When mommy’s and daddy’s love each other very very much —— they get nasty!” He burst out laughing. “The sweat, grunting, weird fart sounds…”

Jace smacked him hard enough to make spilling coffee a real concern.

Ben got serious,—— for him anyway. “Fine—— enough, — I just don't understand why they didn't seem to like what I wrote.”

“They liked it; they just had a few suggestions.”

“Well, —— Bob hated it.”

“But Bob only likes stuff that is written the way he writes. He thinks writing should all be done the same. No room for creative flair. Besides, didn‘t you hear the suggestions they have for my stuff. Apparently, I overused passive voice. Whatever the hell that means — speaking of things that harm my little brain.”

“You do use passive voice a lot.”

“So what? I care little for that, I have my reasons.”

“Look, passive voice is like beating around the bush instead of getting to the point. Your wife probably loves this about you, but in the world of most writers, they believe you need to write in active voice. Get to the point immediately: like premature ejaculation, self-gratification without concern for both reader,—— and narrator,— on the journey together. Most just lap up active voice thinking after the fact. But a blend in a good narrative can unite reader and narrator,—— build anticipation,——feeling the emotion. Knowing when to change it up and go in with active voice will peak the reader waiting for the hammer to drive the point home. Personally, I think there’s room for both. Good writing is more than just telling a story, it can be a beautiful journey that brings both reader and narrator gratification.”

“I understand that, truly. Which is why I use passive voice at times as an interjection of the narrator’s thoughts on a matter. Or, a reflective thought of a first person perspective. I sometimes use it like an 80’s action star dropping a bad pun before killing a bad guy. Just slamming short clip sentences of action is tedious and lacks flair. There is nothing wrong with changing things up mid flow. Throwing in a bit of the fluctuation on pitch, pace, and power can make the climax better.” Jace looked away from his dad and stared at his coffee. “Can we get off the sex analogies; this has traveled far beyond wired and uncomfortable.”

“What? Just talkin’ normal here —— trying to plug the whole with a filler you can package and deliver to a stiff audience. Or, maybe I need to stroke it a-little more to get that head of your’s to sink into the beauty of rhythm and balance with a dramatic dash of peaks and ——climaxes. I’m just sayin’...”

The older man was on a roll, but Jace really wanted to change the subject. I know how to change the bad puns.— “Your dashes shock people. They’re not use to them. To most people they’re an archaic form of punctuation that went the way of our forefathers.”

“They’re not archaic!” Ben was passionate about his perspective of punctuation and it came through his voice inflections. “The true value and individual writing flare that can be expressed through the correct use of punctuation, like our forefathers used it,— has been lost. The only way society can regain the power of individual expression is through the full use of the punctuation tools available. And the only way for people to see it — is by exposure.—— The tools have to be seen.

“But it’s fallen out of favor. People don‘t like it!”

“People don’t like it, because they’ve been taught you don’t need them. But the teaching is wrong! There are so many ways to express a thought in the English language, but people are being limited in they’re individual expressions. The individual expression shown through pitch, pace and power; time and emphasis. All of these things can be relayed through punctuation.”

“Well at least the bad sex analogies are over,” Jace chuckled. He could see the twinkle in his old man’s eyes through his father's stone cold façade.

“What sex analogies?”