Blue World - 31

He pushed out his breath in white clouds that lasted as long as his dreams as he dug his gloved fingers into the shadowy ice. Despite its blackness in twilight, he could feel the cool breeze sweeping tendrils of snowy chill into every hole in his clothes. His eyes shone in the dark, gleaming as the moon rose behind him, turning the curve of the ice's peak into a glowing wave of silver. He gritted his teeth in excitement as he thrust himself slowly upward. As he neared the shining tip of the wave, the beat of his heart grew unbearable, pounding furiously, fueled by the adrenaline that filled his veins. He set a hand over the tip and hoisted himself up, catching a glimpse of the world in frosted blue before his gasp sent shockwaves of cold straight into his mind. Over the edge of the precipice lay an eternity.

The tips of snow-brushed mountains cast massive ebony shadows over a vast landscape of gurgling rivers and roaring oceans frozen in motion. The flash frost petrified the grass instantaneously, coating them with a misting of ice. Trees were suspended in all strange angles, grudgingly arching their bodies in the face of some terrific wind as the ice grew and coated their ancient figures.

He pulled out a specially modified camera and, standing straight on the ridge of the massive wave he had scaled, snapped a picture of the end of all life. As he looked back on the trail he had left, the only shadowy footsteps that blotted his blue world.

Keep the Faith - 30

She shuddered in her hospital bed, knowing that she wasn't imagining the soft knocking at the front entrance of the hospital, even though she was three floors up. She was terrified of her Death. She had seen a man die before. Fiery eruptions had split the earth and from the crevices that appeared, out sprung a limber young man with smile lines that wrinkled his eyes. His youthful face creased in a smile as he sprung forward and thrust his hand straight through the man's body. Ignoring the organs and blood that spewed from the shrieking mortal, he lightly lifted his hand above his head, easily bearing the man's weight with his arm still thrust through his midriff then the youth jumped straight back into the pit of hell, smiling cheerfully at her, merely a young girl at the time.
So as she heard the light footsteps ascending the stairwell, she could see the boy in her mind, smiling quietly to all he passed as he danced his way to her room. Every other step, she could hear a soft clink. As of metal on tile. The tile of the hallway. Tap, clink, tap, clink. She began to shiver uncontrollably, making the blankets rustle. Finally the steps stopped and she could see a tall silhouette parked outside her door. She threw her sheets over herself and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain that would undoubtedly follow. And sure enough, it did. A hand pierced straight through her chest into her heart, popping the fragile organ, then emerging straight from the middle of her shoulder blades. As the hand pulled itself out, she felt a warmth spread through her like a drop of hot chocolate, melting away from the point and she gasped, knowing it must be the blood. Flowing down her gown like a river. Then she felt a firm grasp on her hand pull her upward and she opened her eyes in terror to behold the most ancient man she had ever seen, his other hand tightly wound around a walking stick capped in silver.
His eyes were an ebony black, soulless, but as she followed his pull up out of her bed, she could feel the wings that had sprouted from her wound, downy feathers brushing lightly against reality like a curious child. She sighed and relaxed, following the hollow man through the roof into the impossibly bright sky.

We Can Try - 29

He looked into her clear blue eyes that reminded him of the sky every time he gazed upon her delicate face. The laughter wrinkles that creased the edges of her eyes were as endearing as her unkempt hair when he first met her in her art studio, paint dotting her hair tied in a bun. He had grabbed her for himself like he was snatching the greatest gift that life could possibly give him and married her within the year. When they moved into their first and final house, they noticed the doormat faced outward but they were too elated to fix it as he carried her into the house, always leaving it for "later".

The clouds reflected in her irises grew dark and heavy as they knew that death was knocking upon the door. Three times the slow, soft thud permeated the house. The great windows in her new studio splayed a strange pattern of light over the floorboards.

She gave him a quivering smile as she asked, "do you want to get it or should I?"

He stroked her cheek and kissed her on the forehead as he stood up. They held hands and approached the great oak double doors. In the fogged windows that framed the beautiful wood they could see a great shadow and the gleam off his sickle. Behind him, the blue sky mocked his presence even as it acknowledged him by covering itself humbly in clouds. They grasped each others' hands like lifelines and hesitated.

"Do you think we could... We could leave wi... With stre-"

"We can try," he cut her off, gently releasing her hand. He reached forward and thrust the doors open, embracing his old friend.

They were swept off their feet and the only thing left behind was a doormat facing the wrong direction. "Welcome home."

Sins - 28

I remember the night that hell was born for me. I heard the whistle of a bullet for the first time. It was always a whistle, but as it zipped past my ear into my wife's head, it sounded more like a shriek. And shortly after, hers mirrored its nightmarish sound. I remember yelling in horror as her blood spilled onto my neck and spurted onto my clothes. The thieving bastard bent low to my face and his yellowed teeth smelled exactly as I had imagined. The cavities that dotted his pearly not-so-whites looked like mines on a battlefield. I sealed my mouth and began to sob. He grabbed me by the hair and grinned malevolently. I knew then that the boss was done for me. He began dragging me toward the room where I had given up my sweet little daughter to the mad experiments of the devil-spawn. I blinked away my desperate tears as I felt my wife's body slump away from mine, lifeless. He pulled me toward the room and I looked up into the mirror. I couldn't look at her. All I saw was the yellow biohazard triangle stamped onto the pipeline feeding poisons into the room. He set me down and suited up, pulling a gun from its holster. He swung the door open and thrust me into the room, slamming it shut behind me with enough force to crack the frame. I looked up at my child's face as blood dripped from her cracked lips, thick with saliva. Her eyes were pitch black, hollow. Even the whites of her eyes had been burnt black by the toxins. She staggered toward me, her tattered clothes barely covering the huge gaping holes in her flesh where she had eaten herself. Her nose picked up the scent of blood on me and I saw her cock her head like a beast. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared, and she dived at me. As her teeth sank into my neck, my vision darkened and I saw the monstrosity of the darkest realms of hell standing over her, hand tightly clasping her shoulder as blood flowed freely from his pure-white eyes.

Monument - 27

She stared up at its spiraling peak with gleaming eyes. The sheen of the brilliant sky reflected off her eyes and her sweet mouth curved into an innocent smile. She grasped her mother's hand as the tour guide opened the door and showed them into the monument. Inside, the floor was cast with marble and she saw other children with their mothers and fathers. Her smile flickered like an old tape and her mother kissed her tenderly on her forehead, an apology. She bounced into the magnificent lobby and her pigtails shook with the movement, swaying like soft curtains. The tour guide gathered them together and they stepped into the elevator as a group.

Slowly they rose to the peak of the tower in the glass cage. She could see the view for miles but all the beauty of nature was suppressed into roaring civilization. From her perch she could see all that was wrong with the world. In an alleyway, an innocent man lay gasping for breath as he watched his assailant break into a stumbling run, carrying his wallet away into the dark underground of Utopia. They reached the top and stepped onto the windy height, swaying as a group before the majestic carved angel that rested at its tip. As the guide began to explain its significance and how it came to rest just so, she grew bored and began once more to examine the streets below. At the base of the building, she saw a fight break out.

As the two men pummeled at each other, a crowd began to gather, obviously excited by the violence. They watched with eyes that glowed with a dark fervor, screaming vulgarities as the men pummeled at each other, driving fists home in each others frames. Her eyes began to blur as she watched the terrible scene. She clenched the railing so tightly that the edges of the nails driven into the metal began to dig into her young fists. Her jaw began to grind almost imperceptibly as a blinding headache crept into her mind. She edged slowly closer to the edge until her feet rested half on the building, watching in horror as she realized the men were brothers. She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned away to face the angel once more.

As her eyes swung around and met the angels', she lost her footing and slipped off the edge. Fear froze her body and the ice-cold fingers of death gripped at her insides, holding her scream inside her. Her small body landed right next to the growing circle of people watching the fight with a sickening crunch.

As blood began to blur her eyes once and for all, she saw the onlookers scream and their demonic faces turned to horror. The brothers themselves stopped fighting to stare in mortification at her mangled frame. Men and women clutched at each other, suddenly bound together in grief where earlier there was nothing but a fevered lust for the violence before them.

Breath - 26

He stumbled outside and felt his muscles remember what it once was to walk. As his crippled feet stretched and contracted, a slight breeze began to soothe his swollen ankles. He took another step and his feet, already weary, almost gave out beneath him but he caught himself and pulled straight. He took another cautious step, and another, and another. The breeze began to blow faster and it swirled strongly around his ankles knowing, pushing the rain out of his eyes. As his heart began to sing with majesty and his mouth break into the first signs of a smile, a shaft of light penetrated the cloud bank and lit up a hill. His eyes began to glisten with happy tears and the driving rains poured down ever harder to crush his pride but he looked at the heavens and he laughed, taking another trembly step. As his eyes scanned the skies, he cried out in joy and the laughter in his voice echoed the happiness of the heavens as the wind blew off his worn clothes to reveal a splendorous robe of blue. His eyes crinkled and the clouds were blown off as he yelled his exuberance to all that could hear. His ancient, creaking voice broke and a deep melodious tone boomed forth. He pushed his legs forward and began to run and all his cares broke from him as youth flooded his veins. The sunlight spread like a wave across the land and he ran until his skin was smooth and his voice was rich, then he stopped at the feet of an ancient caretaker, dressed in robes of white. All around him echoed the memories of all who had ever been and a thousand ancestors, a million, more whispered stories of gratitude. The boy knelt at his feet and carefully brought his glance up.

The youth cautiously met the eyes of the ancient and as he saw all the joy that two eyes could hold merge seamlessly with all the sorrow, a word was wrung from his lips. His body was destroyed and he walked free as the whispered sounds fell to the earth.

Father.

Vines - 25

Wasteland. What was once brown soil flushed with the vibrant activity of life is now gray dust, layer upon layer stacking to make the earth turn black. Veins of ash trace every edge of our ancient mother. The remains of the vines that burnt into black soot when the world ended in fire and ice. The world turned white and blue, a massive glacier until the sun grew large and all burst into flames. Nothing stirs in these swaths of gray and black.

In the horizon, a pinpoint of light has begun to grow. Rays of light pour out and the thin threads grow in strength as they reach outward. The grayed clouds burst open at the seams and torrents of water gush down from their containers in the heavens, a thousand years of pure water bundled in all the putrefaction left behind by the remains of civilization.

Rivers roared, cleaving pathways in the ashes of the earth and marring the settled gray powder. Lakes and oceans appear and at last the rains subside into mists and fogs on the highest peaks as the world once was. The waters cleanse themselves and once more sparkle in the new light a clear blue.

Still, though, the lands are gray and the veins lay dusty and dry. Rains fall and out of the ashes rises a phoenix child. From deep in the bowels of the earth, a single sprout pushes its way forth through the remains of its ancient ancestors, worn away to nothingness. It breaks through the crust and sets a grip upon the earth. New leaves moist with dew each morning grow and eventually the first flower bursts forth and reds redder than the fires of the faded sun send a pulse throbbing through the earth.

The veins of ash shed their layers and green buds sprinkle the earth just as the dirt of the ground is cleansed by mists and rains and the wholesome brown soil appears once more. A speck, two, five, thirty, a hundred, a thousand specks of discarded life are absorbed and we are given a second chance. A chance to try again without loss. Somewhere on this continent born anew, a woman walks and wonders at miracles the likes of which she has never seen. Inside her smooth belly, a foot kicks against the skin.

Dream - 24

I dream of the rain that we love. It falls so gently that it gives the illusion of a light mist, obscuring nothing but the farthest mountains that we don't care about. The weather is just perfect and the world is damp and nothing more. I step out the door and there you are waiting for me. The flowers are blooming in fall and that makes it all the better. There is nothing in the sky but clouds. An eternal sea of the most beautiful gray. I tell you the world seems to glow in your presence and it surely does. A spotlight, nothing less.

Then the rain stops and the clouds part to reveal the sun. You smile and the dream shatters.

It's broken and now I'm left missing and hating you. Hating you for leaving me. Then I remember how much I loved you and I grow weary and the ache in my heart starts again.

I throw my things together haphazardly and I leave to go see you. The journey is as long as ever and I'm as afraid as ever. The flowers that I bought have begun to lose their petals, as if knowing where they're headed. I arrive and the rain that we love is falling. It obscures nothing but the farthest mountains that we don't care about. The flowers aren't blooming in fall except in the shops. There is nothing in the sky but clouds.

I see you and I approach as quietly and as slowly as I have ever done. The dream has made me sadder than ever. I scatter the flowers over you and I whisper that you look as beautiful as ever and that I miss you and I see the tears on your cheeks as the flowers dissolve into nothingness. I tell you not to cry, but as ever you cannot hear me. I see you mouth my name and turn away, leaving only tears and tulips on my grave.

Song - 23

He lived in perpetual sorrow and he had no joy. The sorrow flooded in from the earth, from the air, from the rain. From the music. He borrowed of this sorrow and lived it in full, expelling the excess, which there was never a lack of. The sorrow flowed in and poured out, mingling with his own. It left through his heart, through his eyes, through his hands. He made his own music and he let the sorrow flood into each note, filling it to bursting before sending it floating gently out the window and releasing it to the winds. Then one day, the sorrow stopped.

He stopped playing his song and began anew. The bloodstained earth grew rich and brown, the ceaseless rain stopped falling and the angry clouds parted, creating a patchwork blue. Into this new song he poured all the grief he had ever known and he sent it away once more. These notes held so many tears and so much sorrow that they destroyed the last cities of men. And into this new song he introduced joy. He felled the last great ruins and divinations of our kind and he made the world whole once more.

Let Me Count the Ways - 22

I love you.

But that's not enough.

I love you like I love sunshine glimmering on the surface of a lake, I love you like I love the perfection of crystallizing breath on a cold winter morning, I love you like I love watching the first blossoms of spring come to life, I love you like I love watching the leaves turn red, I love you like I love the world.

I love you like I love nothing else, I love you like I love everything.

I love you like you.

Oh mummy, you're everything that's wholesome and kind about the world to me. When you die, I don't know what I shall do. I used to think suicide, but then you'd be disappointed. I used to think I'd cry, but that would never be enough. I love you mummy.

I just thought you might want to know.

Just for safekeeping.

15 years old, going on 16.

February 13th, 2011.

1 month, 5 days from my birthday.

Someday I'll read this and I'll know full well exactly how much you meant to me. Someday I'll read this and I'll realize that everything else I hold dear pales in comparison to how much I love you now.

Pain - 21

He crawled onto his bed, tucking the sheets firmly in around his body. As he waited for the warmth to seep through, he worked on pushing each difficult breath out of his lungs. He felt the comfort of his sheets slowly ease its way into his bones. He relaxed and his mind drifted slowly off into sleep. As his exhausted brain wove its way through his dreams, his beleaguered breaths increasing between each interval until he inhaled his last shuddering gasp.

The dull red pain that had always sketched the edge of his thoughts faded at long last to a peaceful black.