Log Entry #38

I see the world around me as nothing more than a multitude of things to obliterate.

The sight of the rubble filled me with such satisfaction. Another thing destroyed by my own hand. Before I could walk away from the mess I made I met someone. She was astonished by my work. She seems a fascinating being. I think she may just be the right fit for me, she is Reparation. We made plans for tonight.

I am filled with excitement at the prospect of something new. She just got off work and is heading here now, will write more later.

Log Entry #39

Sorry I haven’t written in awhile. It’s been fun getting to know Reparation. When we aren’t hard at work fulfilling our purposes we are with eachother.

I destroy and she rebuilds. It’s beautiful, us enabling eachother do what we do best.

The novelty of a new connection never ceases to fill me with joy and curiosity but most importantly, hope.

Log Entry #40

Reparation left today. I feel hollow. It’s impossible to fight my innate desire to destroy, I am blinded by this desire. Perhaps I should give in? Will ponder this.

The search must continue as still I yearn to find my solution. It’s painful thought isn’t it? What if I try again and fail? This fear debilitates me, I don’t want to hurt anymore.

Reparation taught me alot, she was stunning and such an optimist. Always saw a way to take my destruction and build it back up into something new. But, we got caught in an increasingly negative feedback loop as illfitted partners do. She grew weary of cleaning up my inevitable messes and I grew increasingly ashamed of my lack of ability to change.

It was heartbreaking. I couldn’t bare to watch her walk away along with my hope for a solution, so I didn’t. Coward!

Log Entry #41

Had to get a new computer after I destroyed my last one or I’d have written sooner. I am filled with questions as of late:

Is there a solution searching for a problem like me? Could there be one? Or am I destined to wander this existence in solitude?

Isolation is so much more lonely when it feels like my only option.

Reparation was the first time I felt hope in awhile. Regeneration was fun, but we ended up doing the same things over and over again - it got old quickly. Protection and I had a quick fling but it was obvious that we were opposites in all of the wrong ways.

Eh, it hurts to revisit these relationships that I was inevitably the demise of. It’s getting late anyway, going to rest now.

Log Entry #42

I know, it’s been awhile. I spiralled out a bit. Didn’t feel much like writing. I took some time to be with myself, to destroy without fear. By doing this, I went further than I ever have. I am convinced it was doing this that lead her to me.

My solution has found me. I know with every fiber of my being that she is what I have been searching for. I am empty no more.

She is life, she is light, she is everything that I am not. She is Creation.

I am resolved.

Saturn wore lingerie for me,

lacey rings wrapping around

ammonia thighs as she sprawled

across her bronze bed in Budapest.

Outside, the moons danced along damp

cobblestones with men in black

and I turned her onto her back,

where I could see the hex-mark

nestled along her sharp shoulder blade.

Helium kisses along her neck,

Nothing pleased me

more than watching her gasp.

The stranger knocked upon the door,

A creaking, wooden throb,

And someone on the other side

Unlatched and turned the knob.

Uncertainty, a soft, "Hello,"

And, "May I use your phone?"

The person on the other side

Appeared to be alone.

An observation taken in,

No pictures on the wall.

He pointed somewhere down the way-

"Go on and make a call."

The thunder boomed; the stranger stalled

As wires were cut instead.

The gentleman began to sense

A subtle hint of dread.

A conversation thus ensued-

"So what has brought you out?

The rain has flooded everything,

And wiped away the drought.

Say, did you walk, or did you drive?

Why don't I take your coat?"

The stranger slowly moved his arms,

A sentimental gloat.

The water from the pouring skies

Enveloped cloth and shoe.

"Say, would you like a place to sleep?

I'll leave it up to you."

The person on the other side

Discarded his mistrust.

The stranger said his tire was flat,

And shed the muddy crust.

"The phone won't work," he also said.

"It could just be the storm.

Perhaps I will stay here tonight,

To keep me safe and warm."

The patron of the house agreed.

He hadn't seen the wire.

The chilly dampness prompted him

To quickly build a fire.

"You have a name? They call me Ed.

My wife was Verna Dean.

She passed away five years ago

And left me here as seen.

I guess it's really not so bad.

We never had a child.

I loved that Verna awful much,"

He said and sadly smiled.

"No property to divvy up.

The bank will get it all.

Say, do you want to try again

To go and make that call?"

The stranger grinned and left the flame

As to the phone he strode.

Within his pocket, knives and twine

In hiding seemed to goad.

A plan was formed- he'd kill the man;

Eviscerate him whole.

The twine would keep him firmly held;

The knife would steal his soul.

A lusty surge erupted hence;

A wicked bit of sin.

The stranger hadn't noticed yet

That someone else came in.

About the time a shadow fell,

He spun to meet a pan.

The room around him faded out

As eyes looked on a man.

A day or two it seemed had passed,

And when he woke all tied,

The stranger gazed upon old Ed

Who simply said, "You lied."

Reversing thoughts, the moment fled

And Ed said in a lean,

"No worries, stranger. None at all.

Hey, look, here's Verna Dean!"

He looked upon a wraith in rage;

It seemed his little lie

Combusted in a burning fit-

He didn't want to die.

So many victims in his life,

Some fifty bodies strewn.

And now he was the victim; now

The pain to him was known.

The stranger fought against the twine,

And noticed by his bed

The knife once in his pocket left

A trail of something red.

A bowl filled full of organs sat

As Verna poured some salt.

She exited with all of them.

"You know, this is your fault.

We demons wait for just the day

The guilty take the bait

And play with matches one last time-

I simply cannot wait

To taste the death within your flesh;

The venom in your gut.

So now you know the way they felt-

Hey, you've got quite a cut!"

The person on the other side

Removed his human skin-

Before his wife came back for more,

He offered with a grin:

"Say, stranger, is there anything

You'd like to say at all?"

I looked at all the blood and said,

"I'd like to make that call ... "

For as long as anyone can remember, the land has been plagued by an unending storm. This great tempest obliterates everything in its path as it aimlessly traverses the world.

My people call it “God’s Wrath,” for we believe it to be God’s punishment for our sins. The only place where we find shelter is at the core of the disaster, the eye of the storm. And so, we nomads follow in the steps of this giant.

No one knows what is beyond God’s Wrath, only that its footprints leave wastelands behind. Our only hope for survival is to keep moving. This storm can take us at any moment. For us, nothing is permanent.

As soon as we get the safest distance away from the back of the storm, we set up a rudimentary camp. After all, we have to be able to collapse it quickly when the storm catches up.

Everyone in the clan has a job. If you are not setting up camp or taking care of the mounts, then you must be looking for supplies: food, water, wood, or anything else that can assist us in our travels. Of course it is difficult to procure anything since we are lucky to find anything the storm has missed.

Just as I had finished scavenging for any remaining edible plants, I heard my father yelling:

“Eleina! You have to hurry back now!”

“What is it, father? What happened?” My father rarely spoke in such a tone. Panic had already crept into me, flowing down my spine like a trickle of cold water.

“We miscalculated the storm’s direction. It’ll be here soon. We don’t have any time to spare. We have to get going this instant!”

Without any hesitation, we ran back to camp. The other clan members had already begun to dismantle our camp. The path God’s Wrath took was often hard to predict, so we had all gotten used to quickly responding.

“Lissa! Lissa! Where are you!” Ms. Corren’s voice rang out as she scurried throughout camp looking for her daughter. Lissa has always been like my sister, so I, too, began to look for her. Hopefully, she had not gone off to far. Lissa is only a child, and she could get lost easily.

“Do you know where you last saw her?”

“I let her go off to the riverbank earlier to go play,” Ms. Corren said in a shaking voice. The expression she wore was not unlike the one she had when she lost her husband just a few migration periods ago.

If I was not mistaken, the river was back in the same direction as the oncoming storm. Ms. Corren and I hurriedly climbed up the hill behind camp and confirmed our fears.

A kilometer away lay a winding river. Lissa’s unmistakable blond hair poked out from the surrounding grassy field. Ms. Corren immediately ran down the hill, and just as I thought about chasing after her, something pulled on my collar.

“Don’t go after them,” my father said grimly. “Can’t you see the walls of God’s Wrath beyond the river? If we don’t leave now, it’ll devour us.”

“But what about Ms. Corren and Lissa? How can we just leave them?” There was no way I was going to lose them. We already lose so much because of this relentless giant, but now it wants to take our lives, too?

“Lissa is all Ms. Corren has left. You know what happened to her husband two years ago,” my father said sadly. “If she loses Lissa too, she’ll have nothing to live for.”

I argued and argued. We had to get them. We had to save them. We could not just leave them to die. But my protests went unheard.

“Eleina, listen. Ms. Corren knows what it means if she goes after her Lissa, but she chose to anyway. Don’t you think this is what she wants: to be with her daughter until the end?”

I knew he was right, but I could not accept it. I did not want to lose them. I collapsed onto my knees as I cried out.

My father picked me up and put me over his shoulder as he walked toward camp. I kicked, screamed, and cried to no avail. I could see Ms. Corren with her daughter by the riverbank, and I could swear they seemed like they were smiling. I knew they were already long gone.

I secluded myself under the blankets in the carriage as we drove away from the tempest. The roars of the raging storm, the neighs of our trotting horses, and even my toneless cries faded into silence.

For us nomads, nothing is permanent.

     “The difference is, I lie for a reason.”

     Ali’s words were clear and concise, cutting through the lunch hour chatter of the restaurant like a stainless steel blade.

     Robert looked into her face, void of emotion. Her green eyes used to sparkle when she smiled at him. But now, he studied her as if she was some unknown exotic species discovered for the first time.

     She continued to stare him down, silent and unwavering.

     “What are you talking about? Lies? What lies?”

     Ali’s behavior over the past couple of weeks had been erratic at best. Pleasant conversations took sudden detours into dark places, ending in soliloquies of a brooding nature. Hours later, her jovial attitude made the earlier encounter seem like a fleeting nightmare one couldn’t quite remember upon waking. Robert was aware that hormonal shifts could be more pronounced as women aged, but this was bordering on bipolar.

     “Your entire life is built on lies,” she snapped. “I thought it was a harmless game at first, watching you manipulate others by telling them what they want to hear: your friends, your colleagues, your employees. You lie like you breathe: effortlessly.”

     “Why are you—“

     “Let me finish,” she interrupted. Another pause. “I have been with you for three years. I had so much hope for the future. I fed off your passion; it was a drug to me. But now I see you for who you really are: A con artist, preying on everyone who crosses his path to get what he wants. Including me."

     Every sentence, every word was cold and robotic. The lack of emotion was more disturbing to Robert than the words themselves. He had a thick skin--he had to, given the nature of his business. But dealing with this shell of a person whom he knew intimately was something otherworldly.

     Ali sat perfectly still, unblinking, waiting for Robert to respond. His confusion quickly turned to annoyance as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

     “Look, Ali, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a wad. But I’m tired of your irrational accusations.” Robert pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet.     “This conversation is over.”

     Ali reached into her purse and produced a candy bar-sized item in a pink and white metallic wrapper.

     “Perhaps I wasn’t being clear.” She slid the item across the table, glaring at him the entire time.

     Robert reached down, picked it up and pulled back the already opened wrapper to see what was inside.

     “I wasn’t implying that I’m perfect and you’re not. What I’m saying is, you lie casually. It’s your way of life. I, on the other hand, lie...but for different reasons. Big reasons. Like the one you’re holding in your hand.”

     Ali smirked, showing the first sign of human emotion as the gravity of the situation was realized in Robert’s expression.

     “I lie to Tom all the time,” Ali said. “I tell my husband it’s okay that he’s unemployed, and that I understand he’s looking really hard for a job. I also lie and say it doesn’t bother me that he has a low sperm count, and that we can’t have children. I smile and pretend that it’s all okay, because, what choice do I have?”

     Robert stood like a statue now, white as alabaster.

     “I lie and tell Tom, ‘It’s a miracle! We are finally going to have a child together!’ Well, we are going to have a child together. It’s just not his.”

     Ali slowly stood up, both fists on the table supporting her weight as she leaned into Robert.

     “You have used people your whole life to get what you want. Now it’s my turn to get what I want: The child I could never have, the family I’ve always dreamed of...with a promotion comfortable enough to support the three of us. I’m sure that can be arranged. Right, Senator?”

“Cross God one time, and you will be depicted forever as a bloodied goat man - but I’m the evil one.”

       She crossed and uncrossed her legs.

       Indeed, the young woman across from me was not unpleasant to look at. She was plain looking, mousy even.

       If I had been told that the devil were a woman, my mind would have filled with a vision of a Delilah temptress, forked tongue slipping in my ear while I quivered with waning resistance.

       Alas - no swirling smoke, no hopping henchmen. Dressed in crimson satin, a woman devil of my imagination would convince me to do vile things with whimsy.

       The woman across from me was buttoned down, no cleavage or flitting eyelashes. She looks like a mom. I try to keep my suspicion, any fool could guess that this was naught but a trick. Blue blouse and khakis did not an innocent make.

“Oh, this isn’t my normal form, this is a rental especially for you.”

       A wink, there it was - the trickster was out to play. Ignoring that Lucifer was reading my unexpressed thoughts - I was filled with disgust. This woman possessed, to be used and discarded like some puppet.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

       Staccato laughter burst from her, drawing the attention of the tables around us. It was that laugh that began the chill, which poured over my skin like oil.

“This is my fault, I tend to indulge in theatrics.”

       She began to change. Sallow shrinking greying meat - half of her face ripped up with a violence, showing bloodless flesh - she laughed again, the laughter strange sounding from behind flapping skin. It was then that I saw the tire marks, which crawled up across her chest before me.

“Remember me now?”

       I had tried to forget. Spread on pavement in the dark - I hadn’t gotten a good look. Besides, I had been very drunk.

I thought the sun was bright, until I saw her.

Well, not her specifically, but the golden heart around her wrist. It was a beautiful Tiffany bracelet, as I would come to know, and it's owner was a girl with the ironic name of Tiffany.

I entered English class just like any other day of my normal high school life, but after I sat down, she entered after me. Immediately, the room got ten shades brighter. It was like someone opened a window, or knocked the ceiling off of the school.

And of course, there was the bracelet.

I couldn't stop staring at it. It's rich glow perfectly matched her shining blonde hair. When the teacher introduced her to us, I could only stare in awe. How could I be so lucky as to experience an angel on earth?

I know what you're thinking: this girl was nothing but a cliche. Maybe you're right. But at the time, how could I have known? I was so drawn to her warmth, her easy laugh when the teacher made a joke, the way her golden heart dangled as she raised her hand. She may as well have cut me open and stuffed me with summer air.

As soon as class ended, I hurried to introduce myself. Standing next to her was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. I mentioned her bracelet, and she told me it was from Tiffany. When I laughed, Tiffany joined me. She looked into my eyes and asked if I could show her around the school. With a face like hers, how could I say no?

I spent the day introducing the sun to the minor planets in our school's galaxy. With the way they all gravitated toward Tiffany, I knew my time was limited. How can a meteorite compare to the center of the galaxy?

At the end of the day, I almost ran to the lockers where I had told Tiffany to meet me. I was going to walk her home so she wouldn't be lost in her new town.

For some reason, I thought we had a connection. After only one day of having her in my life, I wrongly assumed that she was mine. There is no way to catch a honey-yellow canary once it has flown off. Why did I expect that I could?

I rounded the corner, and suddenly turned to ice. A football player had her in his arms against the lockers. She giggled, and a bubble of warmth grew around them. I wasn't in it. Icicles grew inside my heart, mercilessly piercing it. I knew better than to get involved in something like this, and yet I still did.

They broke apart for a moment and she turned and looked at me. I ran. Far, far away from the summer breezes, yellow wings, and sunshine galaxies. I ran with the image of a golden heart burned into my mind.

- honesty

- comfy - too big - sweaters

- people who are shy until you find that one thing that causes their eyes to light up!

- joy

- rain; thought to elaborate but, rain.

- finishing work before I've had time to check the time

- toe curling pleasure

- socks; thought to elaborate but, SOCKS

- sincerity

- well written music

- Kisses

- EXTRA large mugs - the larger the better ;)

- People who ENJOY food.

- paint - could also read "making beautiful messes" but, paint.

- animals

- insects, bugs, arachnids and all such creatures really except for scorpions

- realizing that the two points before this could've just been "life" and then leaving them because I'm feisty.

- genuine hugs

- orgasmically amazing pens. I KNOW you concur.

- Prose

- freshly cleaned, new sheets

- people who smile back sincerely as you pass them by

- you, dear reader

- books and everything that they encompass

- books that have been previously owned

- blueberries, freshly rinsed. Actually, any fruit freshly rinsed.

- big people, little people, all people

I have found that love is not hard to find.

Try it. @Mel - tag, you're it.

(Not trying to put you on the spot but you're amazing and that's my only defense)

If you've read this and it brought a smile, a thought of a smile or even a faint memory of what it is like to smile, I urge you to make a list like this of your own in whatever format, style or length is natural to you. Tag me!