Friday, November 4, 2011

Forbidden Fruit.

This story was something I really needed to get off of my shoulders; I've planned it for a solid four months now since a terrible relationship ending and problems I had at home. So as a disclaimer, if this story doesn't make sense to anyone since it's so filled with emotion, I apologize. This is part one of three or four. Enjoy, and thank you to the solid 300 people who viewed my last story. It means a lot.

Forbidden Fruit by Wolfgang Kaiser

            Here we are, Jane and I, sitting here in some sort of basement, locked in and prepared to die. Our families are gone; other than the cannibals roaming around this town, we’re the last ones alive, as far as we know. Given the circumstances, Jane still won’t love me back. I’ll try and I’ll try, but nothing will work.
            She’s laying right here, cuddled up on my lap in the freezing cold. I’m leaning forward, breathing warm air heavily into the back of her shirt to keep her neck warm. It was an old trick my father once taught me. “Whenever you have a girl falling for you and she’s freezing cold, just breathe on the back of her head. She’ll love you and feel protected; like you’re the cure for everything wrong in her life.”
            Jane sits up and walks over the corner and undoes her belt, and looks at me. “Don’t look.” She empties a box full of canned food and blocks the view, and I look away, but I still hear the trickling. The conditions of this basement are terrible. There are no bathrooms. There are no windows out. And as far as we know it, the door is locked as well. The constant banging of the cannibals has come to halt, and hopefully, they’re long gone. Hopefully, they’re dead.
            The trickling stops, the jingling of her belt begins as she’s pulling her pants back up. Instead of resting back down on my lap, she sits right beside me. My guess is, she feels so disgusted having to pee in front of me (she’s always been a private person, keeping a lot of personal things from me, but hey, peeing in front of your significant other isn’t exactly common) that she’d rather not even make eye contact with me.
            “Do you think we’ll ever be a couple again? You know… if I were the last man on earth?”
            “I don’t think so. Sorry Adam.”

            Let’s rewind. Two weeks ago, I’m taking this ungrateful bitch to dinner. This was our two year mark. How many high-schoolers make it to that amount of time? None that I know, that’s for sure. I dressed up in a nice dress shirt and tie, just like she likes. Jane always grabbed me by my tie whenever we were out in sort of a frisky manner; she knew that was what I liked. We get to this place, simply called The Restaurant. It’s a five-star restaurant, and with my new job, I was able to take her there. Why it was named that? No one knows. I don’t think it was given a five-star rating for its name. The food is stellar, no doubt about that, but they’re cocky for thinking they can make so much money off of such a shitty name.
            Jane sits there, playing with her food rather that eating it (a fine example of her bulimia) and I am devouring my burger, which I’m sure is attractive to her. Half of the ingredients contained in said burger are presumably on my dress shirt instead of landing on my napkin I so gentlemanly put on my lap before the meal even begun. I catch her staring somewhat creepily as I’m eating, and it causes me to stop.
            “What’s on your mind, hun?” I ask.
            “You ARE aware of what I eat, right?” She responds.
            “Well when you DO eat, you’re a vegetarian.” Okay, so that was a little uncalled for on my part. It was supposed to be a sarcastic joke, but it wasn’t right. And as a disclaimer, I’d just like to say, that was very wrong of me to say. But then again, she’s always doing this. Finding the smallest thing to complain about when I’m simply trying to do something nice for the two of us to keep the love going.
            I’m sorry, Jane. Hopefully some day I’ll be the boy you once loved again.
            To make a dramatic exit, she shoots the chair back so it falls over, and she walks out. If she were actually using some sort of silverware instead of playing with her food with her fingers, it would have been thrown on the plate. I raise my hand, waving at my waiter, saying “check please”. I pay my bill (one hundred dollars for a burger and a pasta dish that she didn’t even eat) and rush outside to see her sitting on the hood of my car waiting for me.
            “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
            ”I made a pretty shitty remark myself, I started it. Don’t sweat it.” And just like that, I thought we were okay. But, as they say, ignorance is bliss. Nothing was okay, especially not us. I drove her home, five miles under the speed limit. That was one of the things I loved about us, no matter whether we were late to any sort of occasion or not, we always drove or walked slower than usual, because we enjoyed our time together. I drove, played some soft music, and right as I began to-
            “Can you drive a little faster, please?”
            And next thing I know, I’m going twenty over speed limit, getting her home. No police cars were out that night, which was convenient for me. I slam on the brakes, right in front of her house.
            “Well, you’re home.” She begins to tear up.
            “What’s wrong, Jane?”
            “…This doesn’t feel right anymore.”
            “Oh, the food? Yeah, it’s not quite settling in my stomach either.” And right as I said that, I understood what she truly meant. She didn’t have anything to eat. Jane was talking about us. I don’t know if it was the terrible dropping sensation of knowing I was being dumped or that burger taking its toll, but I really needed to use the bathroom. Or I felt sick. One of the two.
            “Is it the sex?” I asked her. I felt I had to ask because my shortcomings weren’t exactly bringing her pleasure or satisfaction. Whenever we DID have sex (and believe me, that wasn’t often) at some point she would just tell me to stop, not because I was hurting her or anything, but she just wasn’t in the mood.
            “Well, that is a reason, but a very, very minor one.” Ouch.
            “Well what’s a major reason?”
            “We should talk about this tomorrow.”
            “No, we shouldn’t. We should talk about this now.”
            “Fine. It’s you.”
            “What about me?”
            “I don’t find it possible for me to love you anymore. That spark is gone. There’s no more happiness. We’re so hostile it makes me sick.” I could see where she was coming from. Every little thing we said was rude and nasty towards each other, a perfect example being what we said to each other at the dinner table.
            Jane stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her. I’m one hundred and two percent sure she just broke up with me. I drive home and blast music, smoking a cigarette I promised my father I’d never smoke in my lifetime since I was a child.
            It’s amazing how people come and go in your life. One moment you think someone is never going to leave and you’re going to be the closest you’ve ever been with someone, and they’re gone. Whether it’s a girl, a best friend, a parent… Every relationship I’ve ever had with anyone has eventually gone to shit. It feels like meeting someone for a night and having the greatest night in the world, but the next morning when I wake up, everybody is gone, and I’m left in a bed wondering if it was all just a dream.
            It’s also amazing when you think you know someone so well that you begin to predict what they’re going to say or what they’re going to do when it comes to certain situations. But, in my case, my best friend accused me of lying and over exaggerating about every little problem at home when the one place I would run to from home would be his house. A true friend would not ask questions and force upon me his judgment, because in the end, it’s none of his fucking business. I guess I haven’t found a true friend yet. Matthew, I figure, wasn’t ever really worth my time. I suppose it was his love for Jane that was the final straw on the camel’s back.
            I suppose Jane is indeed my only true friend. She sticks…well…stuck with me no matter what I was going through. I didn’t need anyone else. Not my best friend, not my Mom, not my own family. I hardly saw my family anymore because all I was doing in my life was giving all I possibly had in this world to her. I gave her my all, and the only thing she could do was make it about her. This realization would take time, but maybe I am better off without Jane. And Matthew, well, that’s a given.
            I get home, and of course, Noah is sitting on the couch with my Dad watching television. I suppose I was so shocked by Jane that the news on the television didn’t even faze me. Noah and my Dad didn’t say anything, and of course there were a few empty beers sitting there on the table.
            I lied directly on the floor and plug in my headphones and blast music into my ears. To be more dramatic, I could tell you that I was listening to mine and Jane’s song on repeat. “You’re So Cool” by Hans Zimmer. We decided it would be our song when we saw Quentin Tarantino’s True Romance the first time and it was playing at the end. That was the first time I kissed her.
            I look up at the television and I see the six words on the screen that would change (and possibly end) the rest of my life.
            “Yellowstone to Erupt Any Day Now”
            I pull out my headphones, and my Dad, slurring his words, says, “They are fairly confident it’s going to go west first, meaning we’re going to be the last ones affected. So just relax, we don’t need to pack and go anywhere just yet. Besides, where is there to go?”
            “Dad, we should still pack. We don’t know what’s going to happen.”
            “No, don’t worry about it.” My Dad has always thought much easier than I have. I’m the serious one in the family, but I don’t mind it. I get shit done. I don’t worry about things until the last minute. I stood up and started walking right past them on the couch to head toward my room, but my Dad grabbed me from his seated position to push me back down to the ground.
            “Sit down. Just watch the news.”
            “Guys, can we stop?” My six year old brother has witnessed too many fights between my Dad and me for his own good. I stood back up and dodged my Dad’s hand reaching for me, and headed to my room. I grab my suitcase and start throwing clothes in it, but my Dad grabs me by my hair and pulls me back.
            The relationship between my Dad and I has never been very easy, for either of us. And now that I think about it, with him gone, I regret every little disagreement I ever had with him. I’ll never have closure, so maybe this is something I shouldn’t exactly worry about either. But the fights, just before the eruption, erupted. They started getting physical. And when I went to Matt’s house, all I would ever do was get crap for it, saying my Dad was a good guy.
            “I thought I told you not to worry about it.” He says.
            At this point, he’s ripped a good portion out of my hair, and I turned around and swung at him. With my short arms, I missed, but I was able to get ahold of myself to grab his arms as he swung at me. With just the power of my legs, I pushed myself into him full force, right into my cheap door. The door cracks in half and we fall right through it, but I didn’t stop there. At this point, I have myself on top of him, and this dark, dark mindset overcame me, causing me to shake and nearly black out.
            And at this point, for everything he’s ever done to me, he was going to pay for. For the constant jokes pointed at me while Jane was around, for treating my little brother like shit, for spending half of the child support on alcohol to dull the pain, for making Mom leave… I punched him. I punched him hard. Each time making the tight packing noise I would only think to be in films were actually coming to play. My ears were ringing so loud I couldn’t hear Noah from a distance screaming at me to stop. Of all times to fight with me, my Dad picked the worst. I knew I had broken his nose from this point, and his jaw was soon going to go out of place. Pack, pack, pack. His hands spoke the words his mouth couldn’t, reaching up for my face and chest, patting on me to stop. After a solid nine punches, Noah came running for me and gave me a big hug, gasping for air from crying so hard. I sat back and collapsed against the wall and looked at the masterpiece that I had made.
            My Dad, still breathing but not conscious, had a black eye, a huge swelling right cheek that was growing bigger and bigger by the second, a missing tooth, a broken nose, and every orifice on his face was bleeding. All of my anger was gone. Any emotions I ever held against him disappeared, and for a quick second, I felt relief. But that short amount of time had to come to an end; the world didn’t want me to be happy. Especially not like this.
            “Get out.” My Dad whispered quickly, not looking at me, gasping for air and staring at the ceiling. He coughs, and a tooth spits out of his mouth, landing right in the center of his forehead. The most beautiful moment we have ever shared resulted in me never, ever stepping foot in his house again. I promptly did what I was told, as much as I didn’t want to, it was the right thing to do. I grab my suitcase that I packed with clothes, went straight for the door without looking back or saying good bye to Noah, the only person I was truly concerned for.
            I got in my car, throwing the suitcase in the passenger seat beside me, and gave Jane a call before I started driving. Seeing as it was in the middle of the winter, we were reaching freezing cold temperatures here in Fort Collins. She didn’t answer, but I left a message.
            “Jane, we don’t have to talk about anything that happened tonight, but I’ve just been kicked out, and I may even be going to jail. Can I please just stay at your house for the night? My car is freezing cold. I love you. Good night.” Maybe saying I loved her was the reason she didn’t call back; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that was why.
            So, I drive around town listening to music, and I notice something quite peculiar about Fort Collins at eleven at night. Usually, the roads are never this busy. They’re usually empty at this point, and I can speed down Harmony road without facing any issues. But, the roads were packed. Everyone was going one way or another. I couldn’t help but notice there were hundreds of cars pulling into grocery stores, with people running out with arms full of grocery bags stocking up for Yellowstone to erupt.
            Right there, in the middle of the road, every car came to a halt. Everything was dead silent, so I pulled all of my car windows down to hear the sounds of outside. People were getting out of their cars and running.
            The ground below me began to shake. Just a little bit; not enough to make any vehicles of any sort tip over, but then it began to shake violently. I found myself grabbing my steering wheel as hard as I possibly could, like I was on a roller coaster shaking me so hard that I couldn’t control myself. I hate roller coasters.
            The passenger seat of my window shatters into thousands of pieces, some pieces landing on the seat. Before the other windows would break, I got out of the car and ran to the grass and laid down, putting my hands over the back of my head and shielding myself from whatever was to come next. I look to my right, while the city was still shaking vigorously, and the road begins to crack and split apart, breaking everything beneath me.
            The road, as unbelievable as it sounds, split apart, causing certain wheels of different cars to fall in, and some to flip over. The roads, at this point, were impossible to drive on. Noticing that I was right next to the Safeway of my part of Fort Collins, I knew Jane lived close. I got up despite the shaking, and ran straight for her place, a solid two miles away.
            And for a split second, I considered going back for my family first, but unfortunately, being a dumb teenager, I figured saving the girl I was madly in love with that shared no said emotions back was a smart idea.
            Buildings were collapsing into disgusting piles of rubble, with people inside screaming for help, if not already dead. I ignored their screams, for there were too many to save and I figured Jane was going to die if I didn’t save her. I kept running, ready for any obstacle to come my way, for nothing was going to stop me from saving her. Although I didn’t understand how the earth was still shaking so violently, I knew one thing was true and I couldn’t avoid it any longer.
            My world, our world, was coming to an end.

To be continued…

Thursday, October 27, 2011

In the Nude.

(This is a short story I wrote for Creative Writing within an hour and a half, and frankly, it's pretty bad. I just wanted to see if I could write an entire story over the span of my class time. Enjoy. Well, as much as you can, at least.)
1.      Clean kitchen for Kate, for the sake of giving her a break when she gets off work.
2.     Turn off all lights; unplug everything from outlets in order to save money on the power bill.
3.      Check thermostat, make sure it’s on a cool temperature, Kate likes sleeping in the cold.
4.      Go upstairs, brush teeth, wash face, and head to bed.

Every night it’s the same routine. Kate and I are to the point in our relationship where every little thing causes us to fight, so since at this point I’m currently unemployed, I’ve just done whatever it takes to make her happy. All the little things are the most important, I suppose. Whenever she left for work tonight, we didn’t leave on the greatest of terms. She has yet to shoot me a text message or anything like that, and with the way Kate works, I can’t text her first. We have always played these games when we’re talking away from each other: If I text her first and apologize, she’ll think of me as a little bitch. Seriously. She’ll talk down to me like she has the upper hand in the relationship, and that’s what the entire relationship is: A game of dominance. Since her Mom passed away last year, she has been this bitch that feels she needs nobody. Her Mom hated me too, maybe that’s why Kate thinks so low of me. Her Mom, I swear, her last words were at me, because I was the only one in the hospital room while she passed away.
“I’ll be watching you.”
At this point I’m pretty confident that Kate doesn’t love me anymore, so right now, she DOES have dominance. I’m always sucking up to her in every little way possible that it’s become disgusting (see steps 1-4). She feeds off of me, I swear. Like she’s some sort of vampire. Huh. Maybe she IS a vampire. She’s always in the house during the day, but never eats anything. She’s always gone at night, probably feeding. She is perfectly fine with barely getting any sleep. She still looks like she just turned 21, beautiful and majestic, although she and I have aged 12 years since then…
Meh. Crazy thought. It’s been a long day, you know, not working and all. This whole unemployment thing has its ups and downs. The ups are: I don’t have to work while Kate has a steady paycheck that can pay all the bills and then some. I can walk around naked at night, which is quite beneficial to me, not wearing clothes and just letting it all hang out. Any other time if Kate were to see me sitting naked and lounged on the couch watching Scrubs, chances are, she probably wouldn’t be very happy, nor would there be even a slight hint of arousal. Now that I think about it, maybe that is something to try.
Note to self: Get naked and watch Scrubs tomorrow when Kate gets home.
The downs are… I get lazy. I procrastinate. It’s hard to find a job whenever I just got fired for my drinking problem. That’ll look good on my resume. “Hobbies: Watching Scrubs in the nude, sucking up to my girlfriend, drinking to decrease the pain of my girlfriend and increase the pleasure of watching Scrubs naked.” Whenever I do start looking for a job, I’ll definitely need to find different ways to impress the employer.
SO. Anyways. I grabbed myself some whiskey and went upstairs to our bedroom, you know, the one we barely share anymore because of her night shifts and my non-existent ones. We have a nice, king sized bed decorated in pillows. Kate has some sort of obsession with pillows. Whenever Kate steals all the blankets (which is every damn night, I swear) I find myself covered with pillows. We have:
·         Many decorative pillows.
·         A Dakimakura pillow, a hugging pillow popular in Japan.
·         A Guling pillow, a hugging pillow originating in Indonesia.
·         An Abrazador pillow, which is an even LONGER hugging pillow from the Philippines.
·         Two husband pillows.
·         And a bunch of other random shit that ends up in the closet because it won’t fit on our bed BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY DAMN PILLOWS.

I turned on the TV and watched a bit of some show, too lazy to hit the “info” button on the remote to find out what it was. I kept drinking and drinking until things got blurry, as they always do. I caught myself smiling, not able to process any complete unhappy thought. That’s what I love about being drunk. There’s barely any thinking, and if there are any thoughts, they’re incomprehensible and incomplete. The one thought I could process was that, since Kate won’t be in bed, I could strip down without her scolding me with disgust. So, and I’m sure at this point I’m coming off as repetitive; I took off my clothes and drank more.
Sadly, there was a comprehensive thought, and that was that after ten years of a relationship with Kate, we STILL aren’t married. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve proposed. Multiple times. She doesn’t believe in marriage. How do you not believe in marriage, exactly? Who the hell knows? If all women are this neurotic then there’s no hope for us men. If we can’t marry, and all we do is fight, what the hell are we doing together? That’s what all of my friends ask, and I’m sure all of her friends ask her the same thing. My own relationship disgusts me more than my beer gut. Screw this; I’ll go join a nudist colony.
All these random thoughts aside, all I remember from this point on is black. I must have passed out. I could hear things in the background so I felt I was still awake, but at the same time, I couldn’t see anything. I could hear Kelso’s voice from That 70’s Show, and at some point later, Jimmy’s from Raising Hope. I wanted to wake up and watch the shows, but all I could do was chuckle at the voices, for I couldn’t see. I think I was dreaming WHILE I was watching the shows because I was definitely seeing things. I could see the entire room in black, but one corner especially more black than any of the others.
In my blackout, what I was seeing was either totally real or totally not, but right next to the closet (which I forgot to close) was this black figure. My mother used to always tell me to close my closet, or I will have disturbances while I sleep. I’ve always been afraid of open doors leading to darkness at night. It was foggy, too, it seemed there was a mist floating off of the figure and slowly evaporating. This organism, I swear, had its black figure, but bright yellow cat-like eyes. It stared at me with the biggest, stretched out eyes, as if it was just as scared of me as I was of it. It started floating toward me, but then it stopped and let out this frightening shriek, and quickly floated into the closet and slammed the door. Conveniently, the slamming of the door woke me up to my front door actually slamming. Kate must be home early. The alarm clock said 4:04AM, but immediately turned off along with the television. The damn power was out again. This is the third time in the last week. I swear, all it takes is the slamming of a door and everything goes off.
So, I get up and throw on a robe, and go to the basement with a flashlight to fix the power. As I’m going down the stairs, I give my girlfriend a “Hey, baby. Go up to bed, I’ll meet you there in a second.” I get to the bottom of the staircase, and my basement is cluttered. There aren’t any ghosts or scary black figures, but just like I did as a little kid, I do what I need to do and book it up the stairs. When I get to the top, I notice the power STILL isn’t on, and I’m so drunk and tired that I don’t care enough to try again until the sun comes out.
I get upstairs, take off the robe and get back into bed, hoping to surprise Kate and have some 4:07AM relations. I get into bed, and I hear slow steps up the stairs. She must have had a long night, but that doesn’t surprise me. She always does. The door opens slowly, without any creaks or anything, and I can’t see her. From this bed its pitch black dark, so I can’t see anything.  She drops all of her stuff right on the floor of the entrance of the room, as she usually does.
I know it’s her, everything is okay.
I could vaguely see her, but from what it looks like, she’s taking off her work clothes, and she gets into bed. She lies there, and lifts up the blanket to see me, totally nude. She says nothing, so I cuddle up next to her and kiss (what I hope) was her neck, I couldn’t see a damn thing. Surprisingly enough, Kate kisses me back. It was an aggressive kiss, and next thing I know, she’s rolling on top of me and is continuing to kiss my neck while she’s taking off the remainder of her clothes.
I won’t go into detail, but what you think happened was exactly what happened. She rolls over, and we both go to sleep due to exhaustion. Finally, I got Kate to show some physical affection for the first time in about two months.
I wake up four hours later, and the sun is out. I reach my arm over to wrap it around Kate, but, she’s not there. I hear footsteps going down to the basement, so she must be fixing the power. I laid there for a good five minutes, and I don’t hear any flicking of switches to turn it back on, so I get in my robe and go straight to the top of the basement stairs.
“Kate? You okay?” I don’t get any response, and the way to the basement is pitch black. I didn’t want to go down there blind, so I went to the kitchen to grab a flashlight. Right there, just sitting there, is a letter that I clearly didn’t see the night before, from Kate.
“Hey. Just wanted you to know, after I get off of work, I’m going to my friend Betty’s house. I won’t be coming home. See you in a few days.”
I look back at the basement door, into the open doorway leading to total darkness, and I hear her mother’s voice.
“I’ll be watching you.”

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


After deep slumber on a Sunday night,
Waking up on a Monday was usually
The worst thing in the world.
I found myself designing shapes with
The paint blobs across the ceiling.
It was never the way to live.

But this morning, after yesterday,
After my dream, both involving you
The day ahead of me didn't look so bad.
I hope you're here to stay.

Waking up to get in the shower,
Floating through halls invisibly,
Staying the silent one
In the back of class;
My existence became more and more subtle.

Lately I have become this social butterfly,
My constant smiling and thoughts of you
Brings radiant color to my daily routine.
A life without harmony,
You sought to cease my monotonous essences.

The beautiful outweighs the bad,
The only sorrowful thought
Is the very thought of feeling so marvelous,
That the slight chance of the feeling fading is frightening.

The places I have always imagined of being
The feelings of euphoria and love
The dreams of success and happiness
The desire for daily spontaneous adventures
Finally feel easier to accomplish
With you by my side.

(Mr. Wright felt I needed to share this.)

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


She’s gone. My mother just departed
On the shuttle to the airport.
Like a cartoon, my heart explodes
Out of my chest.

Get me wrong, this isn’t the
First time she has left.
But it seems every time she leaves me,
It hurts a little bit more.

Me alone, just for a bit.
I need to regain my sanity.
I need to embrace my feelings,
I need to embrace reality.

Myself and I, once again.
Sitting in the dark corner
Known to others as my life.
Boy, I miss the memories.

Is to the times that
You held me in your arms,
You made me feel loved,
You made me feel happy.
I miss you already.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Let's Go Fishing.

to the very few of you that read my blog, thank you. i write for you.
i'm taking a break from Lucidity because my friends didn't much like the second part.
i'm moving to a different, one part story.
so here's an old, old story i did for my teacher a couple years back, the new story should be here within a couple of days.
thanks again.

Let’s Go Fishing.

“It’s hard to believe that just three days ago, a shooting at Kamiak High School in Mukilteo, Washington took place. Today, Kamiak is holding a memorial service for the eight teenagers that were shot and killed. To anyone that is mourning a death today; Channel 7 News wishes you the best. Back to you, Diane.”
Dad turned the television off. In just a few seconds, after the commercial break, the news channel will show a fashion show, a kid that survived leukemia, a faggot trying to show that it’s okay to be gay. The media doesn’t give a shit about anyone shot; they care about the person who sees it. They’d care less if half the world exploded. If it’s a way to attract more viewers, they’ll show it. Nobody is mourning but Dad, sitting silent slouched on the couch, dressed in black.
Along the wall were fishing poles that were put out for a fun trip for Dad and his son to go fishing with. They had planned to go fishing the day of the shooting, just after school.
Mom steps out of the hall, holding Little Sisters hand. They are silent. They too, are wearing black, and are ready to go to the Memorial Service. Mom has big purple circles under her eyes, she probably hasn’t slept. Little Sister sits there with a frown on her face, still a bit confused as to where her brother was.
Little Sister did not understand. What is happening? Why is everyone crying? Why hasn’t she seen her big brother in three days? A three year old can have a lot of damage done if you let them sit and think. 
“..Are you ready to go?” Mom asks Dad. Dad doesn’t answer. He hasn’t talked or eaten in the past three days. The last time he spoke to Mom was when he told her his perfect son was shot by a crazy kid. 
After a moment of anxious silence, Dad finally got up. He grunts and groans, but he has to get up. Dad is usually a big, strong guy, but he had lost his appetite, and was losing weight fast. 
Mom, Dad, and Little Sister make their way to the garage. In Dad’s big pick-up truck, he rides shotgun as he did on the way home from the crime scene. This, too, was unusual. He never let anyone drive it, except for his 18-year-old son.
Ryan was gone. Nobody could face that fact. Little Sister was bouncing in the backseat of the car, excited because she thought they were going to see him. And in a way, they were. After just a few minutes, they arrived at the high school. The parking lot was full, so they parked in a handicap spot. “What is the school going to do, kill my child?” Dad thought to himself. “Oh wait, they already did that.”
They make their way past lockers, including one with flowers all over it. This wasn’t Ryan’s locker, it was someone else’s. The three knew that Ryan’s locker would be covered in more. They find their way to the library, and this is where it all happened. Little Sister notices that there is yellow tape all over the door. She was too confused. She lets go of Mom’s hand, and goes to the door. She rips pieces of the tape off, and tries to push on the library door. Locked. The strange thing is that Mom and Dad were talking about how Ryan was in the library. Mom and Dad took Little Sister’s hand and they made their way to the library. Little Sister continued to stare at the library until they pass the corner.
Sometimes in movies, Dad would see people cheering during memorial services, to celebrate someone’s life, not mourn their death. But this wasn’t the case. The gym doors were open, and there was pure silence. Spots were reserved for the three of them, right in front. 
Mom was crying. Little Sister wasn’t paying attention to the speaker. She was paying attention to her Mom. Little Sister started to cry too, but she didn’t know why. Dad sat there, and closed his eyes, and remembered one of the best times he had with Ryan.

“And don’t forget, Ryan, you can’t let go of the pole. When the fish bites, reel it in.” Ryan was fishing for the first time, at the age of fourteen. It’s hard to believe this was only four years ago.
Dad remembers how impatient Ryan was. It took Ryan nearly twenty minutes to catch a single fish. He caught a catfish that fought a good fight. After putting three more fish in the bag, Dad’s phone rang. Mom was pregnant, with Little Sister. Ryan beamed a smile, he always wanted a sister.

Dad stood up from the memorial service, left the room, and went outside to get some air. He was sweaty, his armpits dripping. He still wasn’t ready to face his son’s death, let alone mourn it. 
It’s hard to imagine what this world would be like if everyone fit in, if there was peace at schools. Drama and popularity have infected schools with the need to be loved by everyone, or they won’t go to school. Girls sometimes don’t show up for fear of getting in a fight with one person. Guys don’t show up for fear of a fight at school. Would you rather be the most popular person in your school, or would you make your social life non-existent, so you assure yourself a better future?
Kids these days just don’t get it. They’re partying hard, and sure, that’s what kids do. But what they don’t see is themselves in ten years, is them scrambling for money and living off of their parents. If kids just went to school and listened to the bullshit their teachers are spoon feeding them, their life could be so much better in the future.

Little Sister stood up on her chair, looking for Ryan. Mom set her back down on her chair. Little Sister had to sit through this old man talk about something that happened a few days ago, that she had no interest for.
Little Sister thought for a moment and closed her eyes.

“Come on,” Ryan said. “Please go down the waterslide with me, Sis?” 
Little Sister was scared, so she shook her head no. Ryan was disappointed, but he didn’t show it. “Okay.” Ryan always made her laugh and giggle. He taught her how to swim, and how to go underwater. Little Sister only cried when she got water in her eyes, but the pain from the chlorine passed.
Ryan would put Little Sister up on his shoulders while he walked around. Every once in a while, he would jump, just to mess with her. He’d put Little Sister on his back, and swim around, and she would just rest her head on his back, and sometimes even fall asleep. Ryan and Little Sister were the best pair. Bonnie and Clyde. Elvis and Priscilla. Siegfried and Roy. Not in the loving sense, but the partnership sense. Nothing could split them apart, except for two shots to the chest.

Little Sister got out her seat, and ran out of the gym. She felt she knew where Ryan was. She screamed, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Ryan, I’m coming!” Mom got up and went after Little Sister. She opened the door going outside, but only found her husband. He was sitting on a rock, his face buried in his arms.
“Your daughter is missing. She ran away, somewhere in the building.” Mom told Dad. Dad got up immediately, and they both knew where Little Sister was. 
Meanwhile, Little Sister ran to the library door. She pulled and pushed, pushed and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. “Ryan, come out!” She screamed. “Please, big brother, I miss you!” She looked through the window into the dark room, but saw nothing. Little Sister then started crying. She wiped her eyes, tear for each finger. Mom and Dad ran to the library hall and grabbed her.
“..Where’s Ryan?” Little Sister asked. Mom and Dad looked at her, and Dad spoke first. “Claire… Ryan isn’t coming back. He’s gone to heaven. God has taken him.” Claire, for the first time, understood what happened to Ryan. “But Dad, he’s my brother. Why would God take him from me? Why does God make people sad?”
It felt impossible for Dad to answer the question. “…God works in mysterious ways, Claire.” He replied.
“I don’t think I like God.” Claire said. Mom and Dad were both very Christian. They took their kids to church every Sunday. They dressed them up, they did bible studies. They held hands at dinner and said grace before they ate. But this time, they let Claire think what she wanted to.
And maybe, just maybe, it was God that had killed Ryan. No, not God, but Ryan’s faith in God. Maybe the shooters went through and killed who had thought that there was a heaven above us, and a hell beneath us. Maybe they picked out each individual student, and asked them for their beliefs. Maybe they left the kids who didn’t believe in anything, they left the atheists.

“I’m hungry, Dad. Let’s go to that Macaroni Place again.” The Macaroni Place was where they had their last dinner with Ryan. The restaurant laid paper on the table for them to draw on. While Claire was being carried, she closed her eyes, thinking and remembering their last supper.

“Look, Ryan! I drew you!” Claire yelled. Ryan leaned over to Claire, who was standing on her seat, to see the smiley-face and stick body that she drew oh so well. “That’s cool, sister, but look at my drawing of you!” Claire walked over on the bench to see a girl in a big empty plain, the wind pressing hard, her carrying a kite, and her hair going out. She had big blue eyes, long, beautiful brown hair, and a black dress that hung down under her knees. 
“This is you when you get older, Claire.” The picture had a yellow flower put behind her ear. “But, where are you, Ryan?” Claire asked. “I’m probably the one taking the picture of you with the kite. When you get older, Claire, you should go do this sometime, so the drawing is true.”
Claire fell in love with the picture. Every day, Claire told herself she was going to marry Ryan, as all other little girls do with their father or brother. “Can I put this on my wall, Ryan?” Claire asked. 
“Only if I get a big hug.” Ryan said. Claire walked right next to him, gave him a big hug, she squeezed too hard, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Their food came, and it was Dad’s last meal. They all had plates of different types of ravioli.
“Hey Dad.” Ryan said. Dad stopped from his meal to look up at his excellent student, his quarterback son, his greatest achievement. “Yes?”

“After school tomorrow, let’s go fishing.”

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Warming Embrace.

Lucidity Part 3 is on its way. I put this on my Facebook quite a while ago.

As he ran around as a little kid,
He didn't have a care in the world. 
All of his friends had parents that were seperated, but it was okay, because his were still together and happy. 

The kid got into middle school, had his heart broken multiple times, and the only one to help him was his Mom. She waited for him all day to come home from school to cry in her arms and she could make everything better just with her warming embrace. Whenever he came home with a bad day, she would make him hot chocolate with marshmellows, his very favorite. They would sit there and talk about everything, and she would make her boy smile. 

When the kid grew up and became a teenager, his parents fell out of love, and one day, the mom just... left. It killed her to leave the boy that she had raised, but it felt she needed to, because if she stayed with the husband, all they would do is fight in front of the boy. 

The mom spent two full years away from the boy, seeing him only time to time, barely keeping contact with the boy. The boy and his dad weren't too close, so he went to friends and girls for comfort. 

After two years away from his mom, the boy met a girl who took his heart and snapped it in two. He tried to talk to his dad, but his dad couldn't help. He just didn't have that embrace that his mom did. 

One day, while dealing with heartbreak, the Mom called to check on him. The boy, to take out his anger, yelled at his Mom, cursing and accusing her of abandonment. As much as the Mom tried to explain her reasoning, he never forgave her.

The boy never filled the hole in his heart. 

He kept good grades, graduated from college, and began a writing career. All he could ever write about were past experiences and fun times he had with his Mom before she left. The boy found a woman that was able to make him happy and forget all of the bad things he endured while growing up. As soon as he found that she could make him happy, the boy married her. 

Whenever the boy and his wife had troubles, he nearly considered going to his Mom, but he could never talk to her, because she was the reason for his insecurity and lack of trust to everyone around him.

The Mom, one day, dwelled over how much she missed her boy. She called her boy. The boy saw that she was calling, and didn't answer. She nearly cried when she was leaving her message, "hey son. I just wanted to say, I miss you with all my heart. give me a call sometime. I'm so sorry, for everything."

One day, the boy's wife had a baby girl. They couldn't decide on a name. It bugged them for quite a long time. About a month after the baby was born, the wife told the boy that she was no longer in love with him, and wanted a divorce. She did not take custody of the baby she had with the boy, knowing that the boy would be able to take care of the baby more than she could. It was an easy divorce, they remained friends, although the boy was still in love with her. 

The Mom heard from the Dad about the divorce, and she felt horrible, however, she saw the perfect opportunity to once again warm her boy with a loving embrace, so she went to a store near her son's house to get him something special, and got back in the car to begin driving to her son's house. 

She was so eager to see him. The boy's wife was gone, and although the boy was grown up, he would always be her son. Driving fast and not paying too much attention, she ran a red light, while a semi truck was driving full speed, coming from her left side. It hit her, glass broke and shattered everywhere. 

The boy, driving back from work, noticed there was a significant amount of traffic. Seeing the car, which very much looked like his mother's, he drove right up to the accident. He got out, forced the car door open, and pulled the mom out of the car. 

There were numerous lacerations from glass all over her arms, her neck, and her face. He held her in his arms, crying, and her last words before she left the earth were, "check the passenger seat." she smiled, and closed her eyes. 

The ambulance showed up and took her away from him, but they knew they couldn't save her. He sat there for a good amount of time, but he got up, and walked to his mothers car. 

In the passenger seat, sat a grocery bag. He grabbed the bag and gently opened it, and inside contained the only remaining passageway to his heart. Inside the bag, contained a box of hot chocolate, with marshmellows. He reached in the bag, grabbed the box, got back into his car, and drove home. 

There sat the baby, with the babysitter. The babysitter saw that the boy was upset, so she left without asking questions. The boy took his baby to the kitchen, and he enjoyed a warm glass of hot chocolate.

Looking at his baby, he named her after his mother. 

"Anne," He took a sip of hot chocolate, which mixed with the taste of tears. "Your name is Anne."