things untold but felt
every now and then, one paints a picture
that seems to have opened a door and serves
as a stepping stone to other things
― Pablo Picasso
Was it something he did? Something he said?
No, not really, just... I don't know there was something about him that stopped me in place. His face, I couldn't force myself from looking away, as if seeing a man that found peace, but at the same time...
I ask her with my heart slightly racing. I can't even explain the craziness that's going on in my body, or any logical reason for it. All I know is that I need the answer to it. Strange thing, one might say. The need to know details about someone you haven't even met. About their face expression, about their gestures. Anything. I look at her again with the question still vibrating from my body like some odd form of expanding energy. I can see that she struggles for words, her hands helplessly outstretched forward, palms up.
Mmm, it was as if he was collapsing from the inside.
What do you mean?
I ask slowly, feeling my brain not being able to process the sentence or not wanting to. My arms crossing tightly over the chest as soon as I see my hands begin to tremble. I watch as she sighs and shakes her head, almost as if she had the entire chaos of the cosmos inside of her and didn't want to let it out into the world. My eyes turn soft and encouraging, and she smiles a bit at me, nodding.
It was such a peculiar thing to watch. His eyes were closed, face lifted to the slightly dim light filtering through the clouds. And the light... god, it seemed to be swallowing him up, a soft embrace that he could sink into completely. Getting lost forever and never coming back up for air. I saw peace radiating from him, but also sadness that seemed to flicker from under his eyelashes, as if all the shadows of the world were hiding there.
I whisper out, trying to say something, but she puts a hand up, gently silencing me.
Peace was surrounding him, as everything in inside of him was collapsing.
I don't... understand.
My voice is muffled and low as I make a great attempt to sink into my soft hoody deeper, the wind around me humming the first tones of Autumn all too clearly.
He was rebuilding, Sophie. It's the best way, or any way that I can describe it. As if watching things underneath his skin, muscles, lungs crush and tumble like rubble, turning into dust like... he was finally giving in all the pain that wanted to suffocate him, giving into it willingly until everything inside just... collapsed.
She inhales deeper, enjoying the feel of words finally finding their way on her tongue, rolling off it in a graceful, nearly hypnotizing dance.
Like he was breaking all of his structure and the person that he once was into something new. Devastation, pain, dust. Crumbing away until there was light breaking through in between his shattered walls. And I saw it, like watching him inhale the light, the first sunlight in many decades.
I blink at her several times, not finding anything to say. She smiles at me and then stares at her hands for a while, looking a bit embarrassed and awkward for putting herself out there like that.
I told you it was a lot.
You did, and I knew it would be. Could pretty much feel it from you, like you were oozing
She makes a face and sits on the bench behind us. I join her and slip my hands inside the front pockets of my blouse. It feels nice and warm, but I still tremble a bit as I sit next to her.
Sometimes I forget how you are.
She looks up and gazes at me with her eyebrows furrowed.
Not in a bad way, more like sometimes I forget about the magnificence that sits inside of you. How you paint words instead of just saying them. That's a little miracle in itself.
She looks down at the ground with a shy but warm smile, and we just sit there in comfortable silence for some time. While all the while I wonder how to tell her, how to even start to explain that everything she said about him, every thing she described sounded familiar. That every feeling she read from his face and painted so masterfully seemed to struck a personal cord in me. As if I lived through all of that, as if I experienced it first hand. Or experienced it with him in some other lifetime, a perfect stranger described with someone else's eyes.
Sitting on the bench beside Tyler, I’m not really sure what I was supposed to say.
I poke his shoulder. “Hey.”
No response. I poke his shoulder again.
“Hey.” Poke. “Heyyyy.” Another jab to his shoulder.
I sigh heavily- “just open your eyes and look at me,” quieter, almost pleading- “please?”
I glance back at him, hoping that just maybe he had listened to my request. I was out of luck of course, if there was anything Tyler knew how to do, it was how to hold a grudge. I’d been on this side of his silent treatment before, all cold and stern from some pointless childhood argument, but those had always been fixed by a little time and an off-the-cuff apology. But this wasn’t a fight over the tv remote or the last slice of pie. I knew he was only sitting outside with me because mom had threatened to stop paying for our phone bills and possibly another shorter, whispered threat that I couldn’t hear.
I chipped at the paint on my nails. “You know this reaction was the whole reason I didn’t tell you.”
Tyler still hadn’t moved, not even a twitch of anger in his face, just stone cold contempt.
My fingers slide through the strands of my hair. “I just- I’m sorry, I know that I should have-” I stand up abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I should have told you. I’m sorry, I am. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that, and-” I turn to face him. “and I am sorry, but-”
My hands flutter around my face. “Just get angry with me about it! Tell me that you hate me and that you’re disappointed and that I’m a terrible sister who kept awful secrets- anything but whatever the hell this is.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Look at me. Please.”
My voice breaks.
I shove myself back down on the bench, downcast. I knew it had been a bad decision to keep secret. I was moving halfway across the country for a college program that I didn’t even know if I would like and Tyler was staying here. We’d planned to live at home, saving money on rent as we attended the local state school, both in the engineering program. I was going to study mechanical and Tyler was going to study electrical and then we would graduate together, working together at some automotive company or other- our paths in perfect parallel just as they had been from the beginning. I had changed that and I hadn’t told him. He was right to be angry.
A finger poked my shoulder. I take a deep breath and turn back to Tyler. I can see him bite his lip, mouth opening and closing as he tries to begin a response. I almost don’t hear the whisper that escapes.
“Why didn’t you-“ he pauses. “I would have understood your choice. Wanting something different. We’re not the same person, I know that.”
I can see the stress furrowed into his brow, desperate for the right response.
He continues. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.” He looks away from the eye contact we had been making. “Why you didn’t trust me.”
My heart drops. We’d been best friends now for 18 years- built in from our birth. I should have known that this was about more than just the distance, about the different choice I was making for my future.
I poke his shoulder again, forcing him to make eye contact with me once more. “I should have told you. I should have. And I am really sorry that I didn’t. But-“ and I take a deep breath. “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I was going to be accepted, I didn’t know if I was even going to go, and then everything happened so quickly, and I got that scholarship, and I had to make a decision, and I-”
Tyler nods, encouraging me to keep speaking. “I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had to do something. And I’m so so sorry that I didn’t talk to you about it. But I didn’t want you to change my mind or judge me or be disappointed and I’m sorry.”
I look down, knowing there was nothing else I could say, no other apology I could make.
Tyler pokes my shoulder this time and begins speaking softly. “I’m sorry too. That I made it so you didn’t think you could talk to me. That I shut you out when you finally tried.” He looks me in the eyes. “I’m proud of you. And you’re going to do great at your new school.”
Tears creep into the corner of my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding. And for listening to me now.” I rest against the back of the bench as I wind the conversation down to a close. “We’re both going to be great.”
We sat there in contemplative silence until the sun began to dim, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange. Comfortable together in the knowledge that despite this drastic shift in our plans for the future, despite the obstacles thrown into our way, even 400 miles apart- we were still twins, still there for each other, and for right now, that was enough.
Please leave me alone.
Let me have this moment as the sun rises and a new day greets me. Don't come into my space demanding my attention.
This bench is my haven, before I have to deal with demands. Of school, of my part-time job where my boss thinks of me as cheap full-time help. Of my parents who think I'm a genius who isn't trying. Of my brother who thinks of me as Dad because our real one is usually drunk.
Don't poke me.
Let me gather my strength. My courage. My determination.
Let me calm my thoughts, which scramble through my brain at such speed it takes me long eons to stop them and just be.
Let me be and then, perhaps I can do all my life dictates.
God made me strong. I have to believe.
Today, I Met a Rocky Man
I hopped off my ship for my evening walk. Although the sky was dark and rumbly, my steps remained light and playful. It's nice to enjoy dangerous situations like these, since it brings a little more variation into my dull life.
As the rain calmed down and the sun began to shine through, my steps began to slow as well. I stared at my feet -- is it already time for a quick break? No, of course not. I gave myself a mental power pose and continued walking... but I when I slowed yet again, I noticed in the corner of my eye another reason for me to stop. Yup, it was a glistening statue.
It's not very often you find statues in this era. Sculptures in general have always intrigued me since they exist as a record of human civilization, but this is my first time seeing a sculpture as detailed as this one. His eyes calm, his nose big and pointy, and his ears a bit red, I found myself staring at him a little too long. Rather than a statue, he almost seemed like a frozen human.
Perhaps this man could be the subject of my daily drawing. I pulled out the sketchpad from my backpack and a pencil and began to sketch his features. Every time I come across a photograph or a human like figurine, I can't help but be struck in awe of how many humans looked more or less the same. But this man felt different somehow. I wondered if the sculptor had taken inspiration from someone he admired. Maybe this individual was a benevolent being that guided the people of the past. I wondered aloud, "You don't look lonely, but should I visit you again tomorrow?"
I kept the strokes of my drawing as clean as possible, since it would be easier to preserve that way. My drawing skills have improved the past few months, haven't they? Feeling satisfied, I packed up my belongings and took one more glance at this rocky man. Tomorrow would be another day, but the his serenity made my heart a tiny bit warm; I think his peacefulness shall be my inspiration. I made up my mind to come back the next day, but now, it's time to head back to the ship.
I am the evil child. The sole child of three who cannot remember bible scriptures verbatim or cite their chapters and verses when quizzed daily. I am the child who had once sneezed while my sister was saying grace. I am the child who once fell asleep during my father’s sermon. I am the child who was regularly tied up and gagged underneath the dining room table.
I used to contemplate what the members of his congregation would think of my father if they knew about what took place in his home. I wondered if they knew that he would start his “teachings” citing Proverbs 13:24, “Whoever spares the rod hates his son…” - I forget the rest of the passage - then beat me into oblivion. I wondered if they knew that he gave my brother and sister $1 for each switch they could find – the same switches they would use to flog me with once I regained consciousness from my father’s preceding thrashing. I wondered if they knew that the roses my mother brought to decorate the church were the same ones that she used to whip me with once they died. She thought the thorns added a nice touch to drive home that I was a sinner, and she could lash the devil out of me. I wondered if they knew that my parents, brother, and sister would circle around me and my current punisher as they ceaselessly chanted, “spare the rod, spoil the child… spare the rod, spoil the child…”.
One of my first memories was my father holding me over the edge of a cliff, telling me that I was destined to burn in eternal fire and that he should let go of me to put our family out of their misery. Throughout my life, whenever I did something that was "against the Lord", my father frequently led me to the edge of the same cliff and would threaten to push me off. He would tell me that I was lucky that he was a man of the cloth so he couldn’t do it himself; after which, he would remind me that I was a sinner and should jump off into the pits of hell, “where I belong”.
On the car ride to the scene of my first memory, I was no longer frightened – I was numb to the routine. We arrived at our destination and I robotically got out of the car. Although there was no need, my father grabbed the back of my shirt and violently ushered me to the brim of the canyon. With the tips of my toes at the edge of the cliff, I gazed down to the bottom of the gorge. What more could I do to gain their love and be accepted as righteous? I looked over at them and they were all stone-faced except for my younger sister. She appeared to have tears in her eyes, although it could have been due to the glaring sun. I turned my head back toward the openness of the canyon. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in through my nose, and professed, “Honor thy father and mother” Ephesians chapter 6 verse 2”, then took my final footstep.
Sullen Mouth Syndrome
It's my sullen mouth that gets me in trouble every time.
"Do you mind?", they would ask me, shoving me aside to get past me, voice starting to get annoyed at my expression.
"Did I do something?", they would say and stare at me with worried lines beneath their eyes.
"Why are you so pouty?" My baby brother, picking up what everyone else in the room is projecting onto me. And it's just my genes, that's all there is to it. Just a downward curve to my mouth that somehow God found funny enough to create and leave it at that. I'm meditating right now, sapping the energy of the universe or whatever else you're supposed to do while closing your eyes, just me enjoying the warmth on my face, the baking-hot sun on my eye lashes. I bet it looks like I'm frowning, silently cursing the world. Isn't it funny how appearances can deceive you?
Welcome to my darkest world.
A small dark room of an old building was her world. After the death of her parents the world rejected her existence. Till now she protected herself from every malicious eyes towards her. During these periods of time she didn't know what she devloped inside her is a demon who woke up a long time ago.
Inside the black alley she was continuosly stabbing a body . The person was long dead but the demon inside her didn't vent her anger completely.
"What did you say ? You wanted to have her? Who gave you the courage to break into her house in the middle of the night? This is the consequence of your action. You are not the one who can touch her." She was saying these things while stabbing that person and her bloody eyes had a rage . A rage of being wronged by the world . A rage of left her alone.
After sometime she stopped stabbing and started crying. She cried hard . But this time what she was saying was "why did you do this? Why don't you let me alone? Why did you kill him . you could have just injured him . why the hell are you making me helpless? " she was like a crazy person who was talking to herself.
At last before leaving she said only one sentence "you deserve it."
Next day the dead body inside the alley went viral but no clue found about murderer.
After one month another news came to light about murder of 6 college students in the room of a club.
In the cctv install in the corridor it was clear that who was the murderer.
In the dark house she was inside the bathroom . in the bathtub the colour of the water was red.
"They started this."
"You could have went for help."
"They deserve that."
"I know but ..."
"But what ? Just because you were the waiter didn't gave them the courage to humiliate you. "
"Now what is your planning? "
"I don't know."
"I am planning to leave this world with you. "
"Not yet ."
"Your dairy have only 96 photos including the six today."
"I want a century."
This time she didn't say anything . she just smiled with malice with the tears in her eyes.
After some time she stated another sentence
" you are right. The world left me alone and then forgot about me. I should let them remember me atleast. "
An hour later 4 police officer came to her house with
Then 3 hour later she sticked 4 photos inside her dairy.
After sticking she said
"Time to go my dear." Within a second her expression changed.
"They were innocent." She said with some sadness.
She laughed afterward and said with a sharp eyes "but i am not."
She held a gun of a police officer and said
"I did nothing wrong but still they wanted to cage me."
Then she put the gun on the head of a police who was not dead yet and said
"Welcome to my darkest world" . she shoot after that.
She put the dairy on the table . There was a proud smile on her face for achieving her goal.
She said "you can ask me any one wish . i will complete it. "
"Then let these 4 police uncle to be a happy life on the next birth on the behalf of me."
"Did you pity them?"
"No ,they just helped me to leave fast. This is their reward."
"Ok. Then i want to ask a question. "
"Do you want to born again in this world?"
"No" was also the answer from her. "The world is the worse place i came. Bring me to your world. "
"The world is so unfair." she said with tears.
She shoot herself on her head.
Her wish to be known by the world fulfilled but with an unfair way.
The world recognise her as a psycho killer.
The story of a girl who opened the dark side inside her with the pressure of society.
Walking away from problems he doesn't want to face. He thinks about life and worries, is he his too literal. Friends he doesn't have. Girlfriend that doesn't exist. These things make him over-think. He wants an education but it's just a want. He wants a spouse, it's a want. He can't decide wants and needs. He needs a job but he can't decide what kind of jobs will accept and deny him, which will be entertaining but also won't need a high education to get in.
Walking along, deciding, and cannot find the perfect job other than some car job which will also require some knowledge. Thinking and walking, doesn't know where but he walks.
(plays boulevard of broken dreams)
Just as the 23 year old man arrived at his car in the supermarket parking lot, he paused, tilted his head back and absorbed the air into his nostrils. He had been playing the guitar since fifth grade when he received his first lesson. With his tutors, he had played classically, with his friends he had played hits and alone he loved to write his own songs.
The next day was his first chance to play for a restaurant. He would play for Tamara's Grill and Bar where they ate pub food and drank spirits late into the night the next night. Talent shows and backyard gigs aside, this would be his first concert. He was excited, nervous and proud. He had put together a list of 23 songs to sing, all his own original compositions, one for each year he had been alive. He wanted this to go well. Music was a secret passion of his.
The sunlight turned his eyelids orange and the cool air was like a sip of water for his sore throat. He tried to take in everything around him. In doing this, he sought further inspiration for his song and relaxation during this tense period of preparation.