Tangible

I met Death, and he was amused by me.

Maybe it was my confused and bewildered look, or maybe I smelled a certain way.  Maybe it was my frightened and lost tone of voice, or maybe I just plain looked funny.  Either way the whirling around of thoughts in my muddled mind did not help any.

"You don't know what you want," Death said to me.

"This is what I want," I said sure of myself and what I felt.

Death looked down at his watch.  The time was not right I guess for he laughed, winked at me, and then turned and vanished.

I now stood alone in the bright courtyard.  The sun shone down and reflected brilliantly off the new fallen snow.  A tree that was dead with gnarled , old branches stood next to me at my right side.  And to my left there was a small bird sitting upon a small fountain.  The bird pecked at the frozen water, and occasionally the small creature let out a chirp.  One side was death (the dead tree) and the other side was life (the small bird).  But even the side of life there was not peace or happiness.  In fact there was much hardship and struggle as the bird continued to try and get water, but to no avail.  I knew the water was frozen, but the bird did not seem to understand that.

I began walking home.  My lazy feet dragged through the snow soaking my socks and shoes and the bottoms of my pants.  I did not care.  The ability to give a shit had long since passed away and I was now only focused on one thing: my journey home.

A rustle in the bushes to my left made me jump a little.  It was nice to be startled though.  The feeling sort of kept me in reality in a way.  Out from the bushes came a small cat, a baby most likely.  It saw me and stood still hoping I would not see him.  I did not just see a kitten before me, but a living, breathing, normal creature.  I felt normal, id only for a second, seeing that little kitten with its dark, wondering eyes and its soft, fluffy fur.  Then, it walked away, almost taking my sanity with it, and again I began to descend into that dark, deep hole that was now my mind.

But I knew that was not the end.  Deep down I knew hope existed, somewhere, somehow.  I continued to walk thinking of friends and of family; loved ones and those who cared about me and were always looking out for me.  I felt comforted, I almost felt alive.

And alive was good.  I felt like I was a bran new toy just out of the factory, ready to hit the shelves and start a new life of helping others and making them happy.  Alive was more than good, it was great, it was awesome, it was pure amazing!  I was so ready to be alive, and I finally was.

Now I approached a crosswalk.  The light was green and cars sped up and down the road all in a hurry as people rushed to get wherever they were trying to get to.  The signal was a stop sign saying I could not walk yet.  So I stopped and waited for the walk signal.  I waited and waited some more.  I began to grow impatient as I stood there and the cars continued to zoom by.  As I began to get angry I realized that I had neglected to press the button on the light pole.  All this time it had been my problem that I had not started to do something about.  I had not taken the first step in finding a solution.  Feeling sheepish, I pressed the button and waited.  Soon after the signal said I could walk.  So I did.  I walked on.

The Red Blade

Tanner kicked in the door of the building and rushed in, his partners close behind him.  The people standing around the small art museum saw what was happening and at once panic ensued.  Tanner rushed up to the front desk and stuck his gun the the woman's face.  With wide eyes she spoke to him.

"What can I do for you, sir?"  she asked is a calm voice.

"What do you think?  Keep your mouth shut," he snarled back at her.  His partners had sealed the exit, and Big Tony was standing in front of it with his sub-machine gun.  The people had quieted down and were now all in a scared huddle on the floor.  Tom and Mac were in charge of getting the paintings that they had come for.  Bella and Ash were in charge of the hostages.  Tanner was the leader, and he was happy standing their with his gun in the desk lady's face.

It was not long until they heard sirens approaching.  Tanner had been counting on this, which was why he planned on turning it into a hostage situation.  Not only would the paintings be worth a lot of money, but he was planning on negotiating for more money for the hostages.  Lives were usually worth a lot to the police.  It was like a weakness, the importance of human life.  Tanner knew better.  Life wasn't not important, except to live however the hell you wanted.  If he were a cop, he would never negotiate with bad guys, he'd bust in and kill whoever got in the way.  Cops were soft.  He wasn't soft.  That's why he was ahead in so many way.

Richard sat on the floor holding his sobbing girlfriend, Amanda, against his chest.  He stroked her hair gently and whispered to her that it was going to be alright.  They had come here on a date Amanda being a fan of art.  Richard had thought she would like it, and she had very much been enjoying it until this.  He looked around the room.  There was nothing he could use...except...

"Excuse me," he said.

"What?" asked Bella.

"I've got to go to the bathroom."

"Bull, you haven't even been sitting there twenty minutes."

"I had to go before, and I just hadn't yet."

"I don't care, stay there."

"Come on, you want me to piss all over the floor?"

"Not my problem," said Bella turning away.

"Naw, come on Bella, what's he gonna do?  Sure, I'll take you to the restroom.  Anyone else gotta go?" Ash asked.

"I do!" said a woman, but Richard gave her a look and she lowered her hand and shook her head.  "Never mind."

"Alright, let's move," Ash said.

Richard got up and moved down the hall, Ash following him, his shotgun sticking out in front.  As they walked they heard the voice of the police over a loud speaker.  Ash looked back for just a second, and it was enough.  Richard spun around, swinging is arm around and knocking Ash into the wall.  The shotgun clattered to the floor.  Richard jumped for it but was grabbed around the middle by Ash.  They struggled.  Ash tried to pull a revolver from his waist, but Richard got it first.  He hit Ash over the head with the pistol and then put him into a headlock.  He put the gun to his head and moved forward.  They came out of the hall and Richard called attention to them.

"The rest of you better put down your guns or I shoot him!" Richard said.

"Ash!" Bella cried.  They were brother and sister.

"Put 'em down now!" shouted Richard.  The other's began to lower their weapons, but Tanner looked right at Richard and raised his pistol and fired off several rounds.  He hit both Richard and Ash, killing them both. Bella screamed and rushed forward.  Amanda cried out as well and when she moved to get up Tanner turned and shot her as well.

"Tanner what are you doing?  You said no one was supposed to get hurt!"  said Big Tony.

"Shut up and watch the door like you're supposed to." Tanner said.  Tom and Mac had stopped gathering the art and were exchanging looks.

"Tanner...you just killed three people, including one of our own...what the hell man?" Tom asked.

"Finish the job, or I'll shoot you too," Tanner spat at him.  The lady behind the desk began screaming hysterically.  "SHUT UP!"  She kept screaming.

BANG!

She slumped to the floor, a pool of blood forming around her body.  Tanner looked around the room just in time to see Mac raise his gun and shoot him five times.

Outside the police hearing the gunshots decided to send in SWAT.  They burst in, tear gas being thrown everywhere.  Tom, Mac, Big Tony, and Bella were all arrested and the hostages taken to safety.  Those declared dead at the scene, including Tanner, were brought to the morgue.

That night on the news the story of the bloody, failed museum robbery was the top talk.  A man and his wife sat eating their dessert after dinner, sipping tea and just relaxing.

"This is why I hate watching the news, Bill," said the woman.  "These stories are so depressing."

"I know Clara, want me to change it?" asked Bill.

"Please..." she said.

"If only you could just change life's channel with the click of a button..." Bill said with a sigh as he switched to a game show.

To Crawl

Stepping lightly, trying to avoid the stumble
An inevitable process of falling and bruising
The hurt causes you to stay stuck to the ground
And you are forced to crawl slowly forward
But you've forgotten how to crawl
Being on your feet for so long
And such a simple process as this
You must relearn and master once again
And that first time you stretch out your arm
The first time you grab and pull is the hardest
It is not easy, and you are not used to it
But it is life, which was not made to be easy
So you press on
You learn to crawl again, so you can walk
But when you walk again, remember this
The time you crawled, because as hard as it is
Crawling is important, because its are constant change
Always a reoccurring step, nothing new
But always a challenge every time, always new
Remember to crawl, when you can't walk
Remember to crawl

Love

He puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles at me.

"It's alright, you're free now," he says.

There were holes in his hands.  And I knew what he had gone through to buy my freedom.  But he did it.

Because he loves me.

Hopeful Tendencies

Don't bother trying to help, you'll hurt more than you know
If the thought has ever crossed your mind then you know too
Like a winged gargoyle posed for the strike, so is the pain, waiting
Causing pressing fear, that moment before the needle enters the skin
That time when you know you're about to die, but it feels forever

And the moon won't save you, even as it laughs in your face
The stars have closed their eyes to you, and pretend not to hear
The sun is long gone, and has given you over to darkness
Your hair falls flat against your face and eyes are blank and staring
Memories of long forgotten pasts rush back to the forefront of the mind
Tearing a hole in your sound philosophy, your judgement is gone

So crawl back to your friends, the ones who cast you out
Because you think you will find solace and safety there
But you will not, you will find empty words and empty actions
Failed and worthless attempts to comfort and protect you
Lead by hand that only half care, faces that have no real pity
Only selfish desires, to turn and ask you for your life in return

And when your lights go out, and death finally takes you
What will the maker say to you and the life that you have lived
You cannot look back and be proud because you were a failure
You let yourself, and everyone down, defying the creator, shaking your fist
And shame will swallow you, and you will be ready to fall
But a reaching hand pulls you up, and your savior looks you in the eye
Love and peace fills you, and the suffering that He endured was for you

Cap-Ture

Traditionally a concept not worth viewing
His mind not of the seventh tradition
Basically a leader among the minute and poor
Leaving his mark staying behind for more
Painting a picture of red and blues
Blood and makeup thrown across canvas
Telling the story no one wants to hear
Making a blame of your own self and being

The ridicule is too much for a man
So the flight of many birds is a storm
A tornado that sweeps through and devastates
A thunder cloud that burns its mighty crown
The rain forward showers blankets of sheets
Rice and ice, a pool of flooding fur and shame
It is not for one to cry out nothing
But for all to keep quietly to themselves

So a disaster, holding in my arms
Like a bowl of envy and worry and hate
Dropped into a pit of the human souls
A box of evils that you can release and
Only one can tame and control, but not keep
Such a light to stop the dark, it is there
But you hide from it, dwelling in pity
You rule out all need for sanctity and measure

So back up, the shore is creeping towards you
Grasping at your feet and ankles craning its neck
It has to eat, you have to feed
It has to swallow you whole before it grows
If you want to be free, the chains are broken
The clouds will cry, the wind will be hesitant
The shouting won't end, but you will die
All death will take up
And then eternal life...

What a weird dream...

He switched the station and looked down at the cup of juice in his hand.  He swirled it around and then took a sip.  He rolled his eyes.  It was warm.  It was so hot out the ice had melted and the drink had warmed up.  It was so hot out he was sweating just sitting down.  He watched as the talk-show host prattled on about something that was of no importance.  There was nothing good on the television.  The room smelled too.  It smelled like week old Chinese delivery, and possibly a mixture of old pizza and bad milk.  The windows had stayed closed, the blinds drawn, the only light coming in through the skylight overhead.  But it was so caked with dirt and muck that it barely let in any light anymore.  He looked down again.  There were stains on his sweatpants...they probably smelled a bit too.  His shirt stank for sure, though it had fewer stains; mostly it was just wrinkled and squashed, a few holes in it here and there.  But he really didn't care.  It didn't much matter what he looked like.  He hadn't left his house in over a week.  He hadn't even answered the phone, and there were countless messages beeping for his attention.  His voice box was full he was pretty sure.  But he really didn't care at all.  No one had come to visit him...at least not that he knew of.  He sort of tuned out any sound other than the television, and his door was padlocked.  But obviously no one cared, or they would have tried harder to see if he was alright.  But hey, he didn't care.

He woke up with a start and looked around the room.  It was clean.  He squinted as bright sunshine shone in through the window, which was now open with the blinds drawn back.  Fresh air streamed in and a fan was set up across the room, helping to keep the air circulating.  The smell had been much reduced, and was now replaced by the slight smell of lavender from a purple candle that was lit on the small table next to the couch.

His cloths were the same, still stained, wrinkled and ripped.  He sat up.  The television was off and he heard someone in the kitchen.  He walked towards the noise of dishes being moved about and entered through the doorway.  Standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and humming quietly to herself was his wife.  She was dressed in one of her short, low cut summer dresses with the flowery pattern.  She had flat bottom shoes on and her curly, brown hair was hanging loosely around her face.  She looked up when he walked in and smiled at him.

"Look who finally woke up!" she said playfully.  He looked puzzled.  She cocked her head to the side.  "What's wrong honey?  You look like you've see a ghost."

"Are...you...you a ghost?" he asked frightened.

"Silly...what are you talking about?"

"You're...you're dead...I saw you...you were dead..."

"Do I look dead to you?  Honestly...you must have been having a bad dream is all!  I'm perfectly fine, standing right here in front of you!"  She dried her hands and walked up to him and kissed him on the lips.  

"You feel real enough..."

"Of course I do, you silly boy...but goodness, you need to brush your teeth and take a shower baby, you're smelly."  She rolled her eyes and tapped him on the nose and went back to the dishes.  

He turned and went into the bedroom.  He undressed and stepped into the shower.  He washed up, shaved, and brushed his teeth and then put a pair of clean jeans a t-shirt on.  He looked at himself in the mirror before he left the room.  He looked much better now.  He went back to the kitchen.  His wife was now standing at the counter chopping vegetables for soup.  He walked up behind her and put his arm around her and began kissing her neck gently.  

"I'm sorry...I guess I had a dream and was just a little groggy still..." he said in between kisses.

"Obviously!" she said with a laugh as she turned and kissed him.  They kissed a bit more and then she looked at him, still smiling happily.  "What shall we do today?"

"I don't know...maybe go to the park?  How about a picnic?"

"Oh good choice...we haven't been on a picnic in a while!  Let me finish getting the soup ready for dinner tonight, then I'll pack us a lunch and we'll go."

"I'll go pack up the car?"

"Sure!"  she turned back to the soup and he gave her one last kiss on the cheek before going out to the garage to grab the picnic supplies.

As he loaded up the car a man in a dark suit approached him.

"Mr. Gable?" the man said.

"Yes?" he replied turning to face the man.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

"...I'm going on a picnic with my wife...who are you?"

"Detective Rice with the Branson PD.  Why don't you come with me a moment."

"Why?  What did I do?" he was starting to feel nervous...something didn't feel right.

"You've done nothing...I just would like to talk with you."

"We can talk here..." he said.

"Who's there honey?" asked his wife coming out of the house.

"A detective Rice, he's with the police...I'm not sure what's wrong..."

"Who are you speaking to?" asked Rice.

"...My wife..." he said looking from his wife to Detective Rice.

"Mr. Gable...your wife...she's dead..."

"What?" he said almost laughing.  "She's right here!  Is this some sort of joke?  Alright, who put you up to this, buddy?"

"Mr. Gable...your wife died a week ago...no one has heard from you since...your neighbors said you were still in your home...but we've been keeping an eye on you...your sister is worried about you..."

"No...my wife...she's right here...honey, tell him you're right here..." he said turning to his wife.

"I'm here Detective Rice...I'm as alive as you are!" she said with a look of disbelief.

Detective Rice looked at Gable as he continued to talk to thin air.  The man was crazy.  A week of solitude after his wife's death had sent him over the edge.  Rice had seen this happen once before, and this was just as sad as the first time.  

"Mr. Gable...please just come with me...you can go on a picnic with your wife when you get home..."  Gable looked at Detective Rice and then said goodbye to his wife.  He kissed the air and then followed Rice to the car across the street.  Rice put him in the front seat and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Bye honey!" called Gable from the car as they pulled away. "I'll be home later, I love you!"