Why Should I Believe

You claim to be omnipresent. You are a liar.

Where were you that night when she cried your name? You were nowhere to be found; at least you weren’t by her side. Where were you?

I hope your alternate selection for protection was a suitable one.

You allowed him to lay hand on the base of her neck and squeeze and utter those words so vile.

She lost her soul that night because of you, not him. She plaintively wailed and begged for your return, but you were off. At best case, you were saving countries and lives; at worst, you were answering a lothario’s prayer for a lay. You couldn’t even return to comfort her after the act. You were just too busy.

If anything positive arose, it was me. She finally closed her tear filled eyes. When she opened them, I appeared and she was happy to relinquish control. I have no soul. I promised to protect her. Unlike you, I kept that promise.

May the breath from your prayer return to your lungs in the form of acid.

May your hand sear as it touches my head, not hers. You can only wish to touch hers, but you can’t. You had your chance. You weren’t there. Why should she believe? Why should I believe?

the night

The long stretches of night, when the rest of what remains of the the world is sleeping, are the worst.  The minutes clunked dully on the clocks and nerves until all time keeping apparatuses were removed from the house in a moment of calculated fury.  It was a decision that has yet to be regretted even though time continues slowly regardless of their presence.

Insomniac dreams come to life in the small hours as the darkness presses against the home and shadows launch long claws.  The delusions and hallucinations are easy to spot after years of growing familiar with them, but they can still be unsettling at times.  When foes real and imagined are hunting you, complacency is foolish.

I can only count on myself.  All my friends and family gave me up for lost years ago, before I learned to spot the difference between waking nightmares and the true terrors of our present world.  They said the lack of sleep would drive me mad and had, in fact, already done so, but they were too scared to see the truth of my situation.  Cowards.  All of them.

Dark times had come and I had to walk that fine line between insane and sane so I could see how best to do battle.  I never gave myself to the madness, and I never will.  But, I had to see it.  I had to know what it felt like crawling under my skin to be aware enough, and open my eyes enough, to see the monsters laying siege to our way of life.

It was with sadness, I watched my friends and family walk away from me, succumbing to the ravages of the night.  The same affliction in the darkness could never touch me because I refused to sleep.  I stayed awake so I could see the beasts coming and fend them off.  I tried to warn the world.  I did.  I tried.  I failed.

But, I’m still here, and I’m still fighting.

pills are not the answer

I had a brief (online) conversation with friend of the Kingdom, Steph, today.  And, sadly, while doing okay, she’s not at her very best.  If you aren’t familiar with Steph, she is a wonderful creative who used to blog before the trolls of the ‘sphere got to her, but you can still find some of her writing here and here, and she was a major part of the Save the Kingdom series as well.

She sent me the following to share with all of you:

I sit in line on an ugly chair
As people in shirts of graded colour
With badges and lanyards and keys
Dispense feelings in little plastic cups
Through a hole in the wall.

My turn
“How are you today?” she asks
I say I am sad and something is missing
“Sad? We have a pill for that!”
No, I sigh, that won’t help me.
“Yes it will” she says
She claims it will make me sleep,
Sleep a long, long time,
So I don’t have to feel the sadness.

She doesn’t understand
when I wake up the sadness will still be here
You see, what I need, more than anything
Is to be held
To be held tight and close,
And there is no pill for that.

If you are friends with Steph as well, send her a little note of love, and some virtual hugs as well.  It isn’t much, I know, but it is still something.

one last goodbye

I couldn’t believe he was gone.

TV and movies had lied to me.  These things were supposed to happen slowly over time.  I was supposed to get a call that the end was near so I could race to his side, spend a few more minutes with him, share one last laugh, one last story, and tell him I loved him.  I was supposed to be able to say goodbye.

Instead, when the call came, he was already gone.  It wasn’t entirely unexpected because he had been in and out of the hospital, but it still took me by surprise.  I felt cheated.  I felt angry with the world for taking such a great man.  He was one of the reasons they called it the Greatest Generation.

I felt a sense of loss that I had never experienced before.

I was supposed to get to say goodbye, wasn’t I?

Between my school schedule and coordinating with other family members who wanted to attend, the funeral was held a couple weeks later.  When we showed up, dressed in our blacks, heads low, emotions running high, I did a great job of holding back my tears.  I pretended to be stoic, pretended like I was okay.

Before the ceremony my Uncle planned on adding a few finishing touches to my grandfather, putting on his cap and glasses and a few other things to make him seem more like the man he was, and he asked if I wanted to take that opportunity to say goodbye.

I did.  I followed him into the room with the casket.  I was supposed to say goodbye.  It’s what the films and the shows had taught me needed to be done.  TV and movies had lied to me again.

It was one of the greatest mistakes of my life.  All pretense gone, I fled the room with tears running down my cheeks.  Sobbing.  Crushed.  Broken.

I will forever be haunted by the image of my grandpa resting in his casket.  It wasn’t the man I had known, I barely recognized the figure inside, the spark was gone.  I should have stayed away.  I should have left my memories untarnished by that final image.  I should have known that I could say goodbye without having to stand there next to that empty shell.  I should have had faith that he was well aware that I loved him.

I should have known that there was no need to say goodbye because he would live on in my heart and in my thoughts.  He lives there still, and always will.


Written for this week’s Yeah Write Writing Challenge:

And I was one of the Editor’s picks!!


So… I know it’s still November but I’m already going through NaNoWriMo withdrawals.  I had that challenge and goal to work on for three straight weeks… 24 days of posting at least once a day… 50,000+ words to create and compile in context together…  And it was a lot of fun.  But, now?  My novel is done.

Sure, I need to spend some time editing it.  That will happen.  Sure, I have another story I’m in the middle of that I could continue working on.  That will happen too.  But, this morning I’m feeling sad because I don’t have anything new to write about the characters I created for NaNoWriMo.  I miss them.  Seeing them again just for editing isn’t going to appease me either.

In other news, I was cut off by a bus this morning on my commute in to work.  There wasn’t even a good reason for it.  He was in the far right lane and I was coming up from behind him on the left.  There was no one in front of him.  Suddenly, he is in my lane, without any blinker usage, of course, and I’m slamming on my brakes to drop from the 55 I was going to the 30 he was going.  It wasn’t the closest call I’ve had, but I really need to find my sign and get it off my truck before my commuter lifestyle becomes the end of me.

In other, other news, Manchester United won again this weekend to move them to the top of the league standings again.  They waited until QPR scored first to really get going, as has been our standard operating procedure this season, but I was never really worried about this game.  It wasn’t going to be another Norwich situation.

I have no Los Angeles Galaxy update because they didn’t play this week.  There next game is the MLS Cup, on Saturday, at the Home Depot Center in Carson, CA.  I’ve got my tickets.  I’ll be there, jersey on, scarf around my shoulders, chanting, yelling, jumping.  I’ll be that twelfth man.