A friend I find in Time...

My past will soon be rewritten and a new history will become my future, time is no longer my enemy, but a friend that passes by me with embracing hands...I must sit still a little longer...wait for my time to be freed and his time to be consumed by the darkness that he is deserving of so rightfully.

Noise

Shhhhhhhh did you hear that, I ask? That sound? The tap, tap, tapping. Did you hear that? The noises that fill the ear and trick the mind to believe we are not alone. In the darkness.  It’s time for the shadows to come out and play, safe. Do they feel safe? Is it the voices of the unrest that I hear in the white noise that plays to help me sleep.  The defeated purpose. What are they saying, who are they calling for? Are they asking me for help or warning me? The noises become intense.  Thick thuds, sounds like bodies hitting the floor. Is that you walking? I am scared now, stiff like a brittle board in winter.  The noises dance around me. The delicate touch of a soft hand on the door handle - click - clack. The tapping on the window glass. Curious. You can’t hear it, I say? I refuse to believe I am confined by my own mind. The thought dissolves away to the certainty of knowing an eerie presence is in the room.

What do you want, I say to the heavy shadow looming over me ready to suffocate the air out of my lungs. Waiting. Ready to descend upon me and inflict illness and grief. I cannot resist seeing the mass move around the bed wanting nothing more than to cover my head as a child would do scared of the evil the lurks in the closet. I am too paralyzed to look away, but wanting nothing more than to wake up and realize this is a dream – a nightmare. I can’t help it, I need to know, we all want to know when it is our time. Is it my time, I say. Is that why you stay over me? I see you moving, slowly and methodically across the room, you want me to see you. Paranoia sets in and I hear the voices speak with purpose in the white noise that eagerly tries to change my mind’s interpretations. I cannot reason in this state. As I try to resist knowing what the voices are saying, I succumb to knowing it is no use to oppose. I focus. I focus on them calling out, crying out. Do I know you, should I know you, my mind screams “what do you want” so loudly I wonder if the words were spoke instead.

I want to run and escape the presence of this mass, but my legs feel weak and malleable like my bones have been removed.  I close my eyes and hope I will open to an empty lonely room. But you know. I know. You play your cards well.  The noises amplify when I close my eyes with the intent to drive me crazy – making me eager to see what is taking place before me. I decide to be strong, stronger than you. I get up from my bed and make a run for the door. I hear a screeching noise that hurts my ears I crumble a bit inward as if to protect my core. I am nearly to the door to find you. There. Everything is in slow motion as I try to pass you. There you are. Sitting in a chair. Pale and frail. Your clothes look worn and ragged. Eyes drooping, dark and empty, mouth open to a darkness like a dungeon, head covered with a grey matted mess of hair. You make no noise, but your hollow eyes follow me as I approach. I pass by and you reach for my arm. I feel my entire body go limp, the heat rushing from my head to my toes, feeling like a thousand needles going into my skin, my heart beats hard against my rib cage, it wants out, wants nothing to do of this dreadful date between you and I. I can’t breathe. I fall. Darkness closes in.

I wake to a voice, noise, vision blurry, I look up. I hear, “Are you ok? You must have fallen over the ottoman. Were you sleep walking last night?” I look around confused but thankful to see daylight filling the room that once was occupied by darkness. You are gone. I look down at my wrist. The evidence that you were there is left in the bruise that wraps around my wrist. I know when the noise returns so will you. I must be prepared. I will be expecting you, ready.

Country Road

There is nothing that can compare and nothing can explain it. There is something free about taking a long Sunday drive on a back country road. Windows down. Radio up. One arm hanging out the window gleaming red from the sun’s piercing kiss. The wind hitting me from both sides, the blows are soft, yet strong. My hair stirs overhead, going crazy like a conductor’s arms directing a Bach symphony – wild and passionate. The road is empty and provides many curves to maneuver. Like a rug being whipped, the road has many bumps that provides me with a momentary free fall feeling as my car drives over them and partially leaves the concrete. It stirs a tickle in my stomach like nerves from a first date. A familiar song comes on the radio, one that reminds of my youth. The sky is vast and is the color of light blue sapphires with clouds that look to be made of filling for a pillow. They offer no recognizable shapes but are free forms floating above. The fields are full of life. Crops for the local market.  The smells that fill my nose are pure with a hint of wild flowers. I feel safe, secure, and free. It feels good.

The sun seems to fall from the sky as dusk quickly approaches. The warm wind is replaced with a slight intimation of coolness. The sky changes colors right before me. It looks like a rainbow turned sideways with large bands of blue, yellow, orange, and red that disappear as it touches to tree line. I can see the stars beginning to form and the suns light is quickly replaced by the moon’s light shining down like a guide. I can hear nature calling as the frogs and crickets sound off competing for airtime to find a mate.  While the air is still pure it now offers an earthly scent. It is not overpowering, but makes me think of earthworms digging in the soil in the fields a few feet away.

As I approach the city limits I notice a drastic change is my surroundings. The streets are illuminated by light poles that shine an eerie shade of white and the ground is cluttered with garbage. People drive sporadic and aggressive. The smells of a city can only be described as factory smog – thick and impure. The green crops are replaced by visual pollution – billboards and signs everywhere. The roaring cars and honking horns consume the sounds of nature. It is no match.

I am amazed at what we have created as a livable community. One that knows not of the purest of life but one that takes all that is good to create something that is yet still unappreciated. There was a simpler time, a safer time. I am sad that I never knew it. I long for those long drives on that back country road for that is where freedom and peace reside. Living at its best, simple and pure.

Windows - a short story

We all share the same journey in life, just different paths with different scenery and different things alone the path to encounter. We all do the best that we can in the worst of times. I find it hard to understand why those who know no fear can live so full? I fear everything. I live in a state of fear. I keep it close and dear to me. I would not want to live without it because if I do then I would undoubtedly have the worst things possible happen to me. I lived without fear once in my life and the worst did happen. Point taken.

When I was 18 I remember sitting on a public bus in Gainesville going to work at the VA Hospital and a lady passed by me. She was old with white hair twirled in a messy bun on top of her head, she had good skin and carried one of those reusable canvas shopping bag. Those that have experienced trauma tend to be very observant and aware of people. She gave me good reason to be aware of her. As she passed by she glared at me, looking me right in the eyes. The kind of glare that stays with you. Odd and creepy. The kind that chills your spine and sends goose bumps to the surface of the skin. Of course, she sat behind me too. I did not know whether to move or get off the bus.

My senses were now on full alert. My intuition was heightened. It was like I could feel her breathing on me. Needless to say, I was unable to move. I slightly turned my head to do a passenger position check on the lady only to find indeed she was mere inches from my face. I leaned forward and turned as I asked her if she was ok. She laughed. I told myself that maybe she needed some mental help and was about to leave when she reached out for my arm and I pulled it back so fast like a snake after it has bitten its prey.

Was this the point that I should retaliate and run? Did she want something from me? Did she have a weapon? Yes you could say I was in a state of FEAR. So many things running through my mind that all I could do was press my body into the seat in front of me and hope that she would notice how uncomfortable I was. She did. We all would like to think we would know what to do in a confrontational situation, but I would argue that most of us don’t know. She stayed leaning in but moved back a tad as to give me my breathing room back. Then she looked at my face and understandably saw what I was feeling, fear.

She said, “you don’t need to fear me girl.” I said, “I am not fearful of you” and she swiftly whispered, “you are so full of fear right now your face is wet from the overflow from your eyes” I went from being scared to being confused, what did that mean? She then proceeded to tell me that my eyes held all my power and if I wanted people to not see my fear to change the windows to my soul. She stated that she could see pain in my eyes. Ok now I was shaking. I mean did I know this lady? It was almost as if she was reading my mind when she said, “no, we have not met, I know you are wondering how I know so much but know so little about you”. She proceeded to claim that those who have endured so much pain in their lives that they carry the pain in their eyes. I turned around in my seat as to not face her anymore and thought to myself, well if that is the case then I must have had billboards in my eyes advertising my pain. I shrugged at the thought and squirmed in my seat not wanting to give into the lady’s silly banter. Trying to think of something to say in return but coming back with nothing that would not sound like denial. I turned around to ask her in all her wisdom how I could disguise this so called fear and was bewildered to find her gone. I didn’t even remember the bus stopping but I guess it had.

From that day on I changed my windows.