His face always pops into mind when I need to know something. It's been six months, maybe, since he asked how the kids were. I'd written back, "Wild. Kiss some mountains for me, particularly at sunrise."

He had one condition when he left for Afghanistan. If I can't ride my motorcycle when I come back, smother me with my pillow. I'd agreed--it was the least I could do after loving him for so many years.

Now, sitting in front of a screen, his face blipping across my eyes, I reached for the Facebook to write. His profile was gone. Disabled. I pulled up our messages, years of conversations now sent from "Facebook User" instead of him.

I googled his name, not expecting anything, just missing him. He liked to go incognito without explanation, even when it meant sweet agony for the rest of us.

During his stint in the Marines, he'd show up for a moment on screen only to drop a phrase like, "I spent the day tempting Afghani kids with cigarettes after we got back from patrol. The Koran burning happened quite nearby." His skin never seemed like it wanted to stick to his soul; he was always flying at the face of the sun, turning back at the last second for reasons sounding like dreams.

Joe Andrianov, 27, dead from motorcycle crash in Poudre Canyon, 6 miles west of Ted's Place.

Fort Collins Man, dead after motorcycle accident on Hwy. 14.

" I saw this before the cops or ambulances came. It was a horrible sight! Not something I EVER want to see again! I also had a car full of kids. Prayers for everyone involved."

Joe drifted out of his lane and hit an oncoming pickup truck head on. The report sounded more like an afterthought than an intention. The middle-aged lady driving was fine--his soul jumped ship on impact.

I pulled up Google Earth, counting off miles from Ted's Place using my thumb as a ruler. The road wound through Roosevelt National Forest, two lanes tracking a river that lapped at the foot of mountains. The sun created light halos behind the hills, shards of the day lancing over concrete. His laughter shook my shoulders. I mistook it as my own radiant grief.

I was sixteen and the beach was my backyard-- or had been when I was a child. The waves where choppy and rolling, in sets of three, that didn't look that intimidating at the time. My twin and I swam out like we always did, trying to get past the waves, to calmer water we could tread; but the Atlantic-lick along the center of the peninsula wasn't having it.

The further we swam the faster the waves seemed to roll in, the larger they seemed to get. Twin turned back before I did; too stubborn and determined NOT to be beaten back to the beach by the ocean's osculations, so I kept swimming.

CRASH. A wave would hit me in the face and push me back in a tumble through water deep enough I could no longer touch the bottom. Just as soon as I righted myself to the surface to suck down a breath and throw my arms out, with cupped hands, to try to press forward-- CRASH, another wave would roll me back and under once more.

Clinging to my determination, I leveled myself again in time to gasp for air and stare-a-blink at the impending crash of a bubble-clawed wall of water to counter my stroke forward. I'd already lost, but had yet to realize it until that third wave plunged me into a rip-current, snatched by the under-toe.

It wasn't the first time I had the thought, "I'm going to drown" but it was the first time the water itself was holding me down.

Trying to swim to the surface felt a lot like the time I'd dove (head first) off a fifty-foot cliff-- when I was nine, but this time it wasn't the deep, I wasn't fighting distance, I was fighting the rumbling roll of the ocean which kept biting down on my ascent.

I didn't make it all the way to the surface, before my lungs felt like they were caving in on themselves, and my veins throbbed like they too were shriveling from the lack of oxygen. I had to take a breath. I stopped fighting the water, and started fighting myself-- I fought the impulse to inhale, until I could feel the next crash of bubbling water rage past the surface to massage my face...

I took a breath of ocean. The salty-foamed water I sucked into my lungs stung, but must have had just enough oxygen to keep me from drowning. I had a chance!

Exhausted, I once again tried to swim, but this time toward the shore, following the roll of water as it hit me, letting it take me where it was going. Unknowing of my twin, walking the beach searching for my head to pop up enough for her to see where I was, walking further and further as the current carried me down the beach.

Just when I thought I couldn't swim anymore, was almost ready to give into the ocean which saw fit to teach me a lesson-- the hard way, when another wave tumbled be into the sand. I had earth on my side and that was all it took to give me the strength to try to stand against the crashing walls of water and take a real breath.

I coughed and crawled my way to shore from there, beaten back by the mighty Atlantic. I crept up the shoreline until I could no longer feel the waves splashing my feet, until it was just a peaceful sway of lapping water to wet the beach front. There I sat. Turned back to face the seemingly angry ocean, huffing to catch my breath.

I shook my head. Not out of regret, but a sense of triumph and evolution. The ocean gave me perspective. It was so beautiful, yet so dangerous. The crash of waves could kill you, or save you-- it all depended on whether or not you fought against it.

I may not have said it out loud, but I knew I would swim the Atlantic again, with a new found respect and appreciation.

|| another_proser ||

The day took place in my youth, before my collegiate "education" began. I had a couple of good friends and was in a heavily committed relationship. We had been for...A year or better, but time and memory is happily cleansed of this. I was a full participant in my church's youth establishment and had recently managed to get my friend and cousin involved in this body of work. He never proclaimed a church and many of my community at school did not. I was elated that I could have the influence to get my friends to go, if even under the guise that we were going to do something outside of the church. He had come and partaken in a few things and it appeared as though the interest of my heart was attempting to push ministering or witness to him. Which further made me happy as this could be a building block of familiarity and family! Tremendous is hardly an apt adjective to adequately relay the bigness of the idea, yet it is one I'll stick with.

The night pressed on and it became hard to interrupt them to get them to discuss with me their communications and thoughts, but I figured "What of it? They'll talk to me when they're done. The clock struck done o'clock and it was time to leave and be on our paths back to our natural habitats, etc. I was having a particularly lazy day, and it doesn't take much to bore me, so I assume I was aching for anything to do. A phone rings and his name appears on the ID. He wants me to come see him and talk to him. About what? Heavens know, Hells call. I arrive at his house in a day in which the rain seems to be as frequent as breaths taken and returned. We spoke awkwardly and broken with minimal eye contact. And so I had to get to it, "Why did you want to talk to me?" His response was that he had an interest, in my interest. The world always stops when I'm in these moments and I always know, I knew well in advance but banked on the other person having a sense of morality, personality, loyalty. But the only thing I can take from those words is the -Y, as in why would I have ever believed that?

More awkward lines and a "You can punch me in the face I know it's wrong"..an offer I've refused a few times in this life and sometimes the -Y revives itself. I told him no, but that there was nothing he could do about it as we were together and happy, or so I thought. I left , but I didn't drive as if I was happy. I know a man rarely grows these seeds and nurtures them if there wasn't first someone planting them with ample fertilizer (or bullshit if you need technical English). Yet I drove...thinking "How is this happening, I would be so kind and his idea would be to stab me if even in the front?" So I continued my pace, trying to get wherever I was going...maybe church? I don't know. And as my mind continued to hit the same wall, or crashing if you will, my car became loose at the reigns, with wheel turned but body on a straight course, I don't know how I managed to slow at all. My car became connect with smaller trees to catch it from a further, more hilly fall into certain abyss. I missed the memory marker of a school mate that had met their end at this same stretch some time before.

I crashed on emotion long ago and nearly had the rest of what I am absorbed with it. My fists crash fine with bag and flesh, my body can toss others into their crash with Earth, but my romantic heart is truly hard to revive from the crashes it's been involved in, for what it's worth.

“Tell you what, I'll flip you for it.”

“Flip me for it? It is not like it’s the last french fry. I just want to go out with my friends.”

He raised his eyebrow at me incredulously as his hand was already slipping into his pocket. It was a look I had grown accustomed to over the years; it was soothing even. When my dad left and my mom died, my grandmother moved in to take care of me. I know she is doing the best she can, but with dialysis and her checkups, there was a lot left to be wanting.

That is where Jeff came in. Jeff moved to the neighborhood about the time my dad left. I was ready to hate all men and started out our relationship by punching the kid in the nose, but he just wiped the blood from his lip and smiled.

“Friends? Remind me again where your friends were last weekend?”

“That was different, Jeff.”

“Sarah, I really don’t see how that is even close to different. What if he had been there, hmm? They let you get drunk and left you in a bar. You are lucky John was working that night.”

“Yeah, I know, but Kat is coming this time and she is going to be the DD.”

Jeff proceeded to ignore me and place the infamous quarter on his thumb “Head you go out tonight, tails you hang out at my place and we watch a movie. Tell you what; you can even pick the movie.”

“Ah, come on, Jeff. That’s not even close to fair. That thing is, like, possessed or something. It always goes your way.”

He shrugged limply. “Tails never fails,” he offered before tossing the coin tumbling in the air.

I didn’t even have to look down. I could tell by his smile what face was up.

“Fine, but later,” I growled. “I have some homework I have to get done, alright?”

“Alright, how about six?”

“Six? Seven, at least”

“Nine it is. See you then.”

We turned from each other and went our respective ways down the sidewalk. I hadn’t made it very far when Kat’s blue Buick Skylark rolled up to the curb. I kept walking so she would have to keep moving. We delighted in being mean to each other.

“Hey, Sarah. We going out tonight?”

“Can’t Kat. I’ve got homework.”

“Oh yeah? What in?”

“Biology,” I retorted.

“Riiiight. Homework right before the midterm. I don’t buy it.”

“Fine, then I’ve got to study.”

“Pff. You needing to study. That is hilarious. What time should I pick you up?”

“Sorry, I’ve got plans.”

“What time?”

“Seven.”

“Perfect! We were going out early tonight. I’ll have you back before then, I swear.”

“Like I believe that.”

“Close enough to. You need to go back to your dorm first?”

“No, not really.”

“Well then get in already.”

I sighed and crossed the grass to the street. Getting into the car was more of a production than necessary as Kat continued to allow her car to roll forward. I slammed the door behind me as Kat accelerated to rejoin traffic.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked.

“Paddy’s, where else?”

“They were there just last night.”

“And every night until we graduate or die.”

We continued to laugh at jokes at each other’s expense as we drove around town picking up our other friends. We packed seven of us in the five passenger car. The poor thing had lost its air conditioning years before Kat got it and soon it had become a sauna. We piled out of the car and assumed our place at out regular table in the corner.

“I wonder is Sarah’s friend is going to be here,” Tiffany teased.

I rolled my eyes as Kat chimed in “Friend?”

“Oh, yeah,” I began as the other girls left to get there drinks and begin their evening festivities. “That’s right. You totally missed it. Yeah, I have a stalker now.”

“What?”

“It started about two weeks ago I guess. Phone calls with no one there, voice-mails with heavy breathing, and now he’s graduated to leaving love notes on my door.”

Boy, sounds like you found yourself a real winner.”

“Right? Last note said he was going to kill me so we could be together forever.”

Kat choked on her water. “Shit. Who is this guy?”

“No idea. He just signs his letters ‘your angel and savior’.”

“Police going to catch this guy?”

“They’re looking into it. They said if I receive another note I’ll probably have to go into protective custody.”

“That is rough. What are you going to do about school?”

I shrugged but before I could answer the bartender John slid into our booth. “Hey Kat. Missed you last night. Who’s your friend?”

“My friend?” she snorted. “You mean Sarah?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, your friend in the corner. A guy, a little bit older I guess, keeps starring this way. Has been all night.”

Kat and I turned and looked wide-eyed at each other. “We have to get out of here.” I gasped.

Kat nodded “I’ll get the girls.”

“I’ll get the stuff.”

She slid from the booth and called back “John, Stay with Sarah.”

“Yeah, sure,” The bartender said. “What’s going on?”

I sipped the purses over one arm and balled the sweatshirts against my body. “I’ll tell you later. Is he still here?”

“Um, let me check. No, he’s gone. Why?”

“He might be trying to kill me.”

“What? For real?”

“Yeah, do you think you can remember his face?”

“No problem.”

“K. I’ll call you later,” I added as I prepared to make a run for the door.

“Wait. Go through the kitchen. I’ll tell Kat to go around back. That way he won’t see you.”

I smiled. “Thanks John, you’re the best.”

I flew through the kitchen with my heart pounding in my ears. I had to get out; I had to get away. But john had seen him. The bastard was unmasked. Soon all of this would be over.

I made my way to the service door and waited at the small window embedded in the door, waiting and watching. The seconds dragged on. What was surely two minutes at most felt like hours. Finally Kat’s Buick appeared in my small outlet to the world. I flung the door wide and made a bolt for the Skylark. The door was opened as I made my approach and I leaped in. I was barely in the vehicle when Kat slammed on the gas and sprayed the gravel of the parking lot into the undercarriage.

Kat sped away as we fidgeted in silence. My eyes drifted down to the clock on the tape deck and radio. Seven-ten. Despite everything happening, I felt a stab of guilt keeping Jeff waiting. I knew he would be worrying.

The car rolled to a stop at an intersection. I felt my feet quicken their beat on the floorboard. Kat smashed her palm on her steering wheel.

“Is this idiot going to go?” she bleated.

I looked up and saw a black Oldsmobile waiting at the parallel stop sign. Even in the low light of dusk, it was easy to see the thing was in rougher shape than Kay’s Skylark. Besides the sizable dents and rust spot, it emitted a low burning growl.

“Just go,” Tiffany urged. “I want to get home. This moron needs to learn to drive.”

Suddenly, as if spurned on by the words, the Oldsmobile sprang to life and charged toward us. Kat slammed on her gas, but it was too late. The other car plowed into our opposite corner panel and we were sent spinning.

As I sat there in the back, everything seemed to slow. I looked around and saw the other girls screaming but heard nothing. I saw the world spinning around us as I sat calmly and still. As we came back around, I saw the Oldsmobile spinning in a world itself turning like a giant Tilt-a-Whirl.

We lurched to a stop and time came rushing back. Sound crashed into me in a wave that stirred me from my stupor. The girls were still screaming and Kat was frantically turning her engine over.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!” she coaxed the car to no avail.

I looked up. The Oldsmobile had come to a rest facing away from us. It surged into motion and began to turn around. I had to get out. He was after me and we were sitting ducks. I had to make a run for it. I was putting them all in danger.

I kicked the door open and plunged into the evening air. I ran as fast as I could. The squealing tires and roaring growl forced me to venture glance back. A single head light stared me in the face and filled my vision.

I was struck. I had been expecting in and was prepared to meet the car, but this blow came from the side. It took me of my feet and contorted me in the air. I spun in the air and turned toward the way I had come. The headlight lit up Jeff hovering in air where I had just been for only a moment before the Oldsmobile consumed him.

The car squealed as the brakes were engaged and Jeff was thrown forward into the street in a broken heap. I was stunned. I couldn’t tell if I was on the ground or still in air. I had no feeling. I was paralyzed.

The door open and a man emerged from the car. “Sarah! How could you do this to me? We were going to be together! It’s not too late.”

He reached for me. His eyes were alight with a wild and feral light. And he smiled. It was cruel, unforgiving, and terribly monstrous shadow of a smile. He stooped lower and closer, his hand outstretched for my neck.

The man toppled over from the force of a body. My heart surged with hope. Jeff. It had to be Jeff. He was ok.

I gathered myself to see Kat on top of the man landing blow after blow to his face. Tiffany soon joined the pile as I heard sirens in the distance. I looked up and saw the purple glow as the approached. Police officers quickly surrounded the scene and draw their firearms. The girls piled of and three Police officers took their place to restrain him.

As they stuffed him into the squad car, he stared at me with those soulless beady eyes already swollen from the assault, smiling. That stupid smile from a man I had never seen before. I saw nothing in those eyes and I can only hope he saw my hatred.

“Are you a family member of the deceased?”

The words washed over me. I heard them but failed to comprehend their meaning. I found myself nodding.

“I am sorry for your loss, miss. Brave thing he done.”

I slowly turned toward the voice. He was a tall and lean man in the dark navy of a police officer. My eyes shifted down to a small white cardboard box in his hands.

“It’s a damn shame. Act of pure love if I’d ever seen one. You his sister then?”

I found myself nodding again. I had no words. There was nothing to say.

“It was painless as close as we could figure. Take some comfort in that.”

The officer pushed the box toward me. Thoughtlessly I complied and curled my fingers around the container. It was cold and light.

“Some personal effects on the...he had on him. Not everything. Some had to be taken to evidence. You understand.”

I continued my soulless nodding. I felt numb. The whole world had gone and died and I was left in the void.

The police officer reached out and patted my shoulder as we watched the squad car pull away. “Don’t you worry. We’ll put him away. You’ll never have to see him again.”

I knew he was wrong. I was already seeing his smiling face every time I closed my eyes. The face of the psychopath that I didn’t even know the name of. The soulless eyes of the monster who had taken Jeff from the world.

The officer gave my shoulder a squeeze and departed. The red and blue lights ceased their rhythmic flashing and left me with only the streetlamp overhead. The cars pulled away and everything was gone. It was like nothing had happened at all. All that was left was this box.

I looked down inside and shuffled the few items inside. There was a bag of microwave popcorn, a DVD of ‘Charade’, and a quarter. I fished out the coin and turned it over. Both faces bore the eagle. I suppose sometimes we make our own luck.

"I hate you"

appeared on the message screen.

I recoiled

Didn't know what I had done

"That's very cruel"

I quickly pressed 'enter'

She didn't reply for two days

I waited forlornly

Then she finally said

"I don't care"

My heart clenched

But I finally typed back

"Why?"

It was a question

I needed to know the answer to

Why?

"Because I hate you"

"You, everything about you"

Out of nowhere, this pops up

I thought she loved me

"You've made me do too many wrong things"

"Too many times"

I blink.

It's hardly my fault

"I hate you"

Tears prick my eyes

I type back

"I love you too"

Two days later

I get word of a girl

Who's run away from home

To hide somewhere in Asia

I know

It's her

But why would she do that?

Why?

The answer comes

A few days later, after she's gone

"I hate you so much more than words could ever describe"

And so she left me for another

So unfair

Never believe when others pacify you by saying that life is unfair

It can be fair

But oftentimes it isn't

I wish

Life was fair

Then I could still see her eyes

Touch her hair

But now she's gone

Forevermore

And I won't

See her again

Do I deserve this pain?

Send a question to the heavens above

And wait a million years for an answer

Nas was

blaring

through the

speakers.

A misty night in

Nashville

blanketed in a

greenish hue.

Jaron and I sang

and laughed as we

drove back to

the apartment.

It had been his

birthday bash

at our favorite

bar.

A vodka night

and lots of it.

Three more turns

and we would

stretch

our impeccable

evening

into morning.

I don't recall

why it was,

exactly,

that I was driving

so fast

but it felt like

a superb idea at

the time.

So I did.

I slid around the first

corner

like a seasoned

stunt man.

Flawless.

Jaron cheered

manically!

I threw it into the second

corner

HARD.

My back tires

left the road

and thrust us

into a large

embankment

and into a lonely

yet,

incredibly sturdy

light pole.

The force of the

impact

knocked us out

cold.

When I awoke

Jaron was still

out.

The car was

steaming,

windshield shattered

It looked as if a great

silver web

was cast over

it.

The car carried the smell

of burnt oil and

hot steel.

I shook him

gently.

"J, wake up."

He was bleeding from

cuts on his head.

"Come on, J!"

I shook him

again.

"ughh..mmbuh."

He was making noise!

He was ALIVE!

About that time

those sickening

blue lights

danced off the

crumbled glass

illuminating

the inside of the car.

"Well, here they are."

I sighed.

They took me to

the police car

and Jaron

to the ambulance.

I could see him

through the

window.

When he

finally noticed me,

his bloody face

laughed

and he gave me the

finger.

I must have

smiled

all the way

to

jail.