Snippets

I sat on the plane, mindlessly listening to the services as I looked out the window to the beautifully crafted clouds. They were perfectly thick, puffy, and looking oh so comfortable. I imagined many lazy days could be had on them, rolling around and reading a good book.

The sun was just rising over the horizon which gave them a vibrant pinkish-yellow tint. I couldn’t feel the slowly rising heat but I could imagine it - to be wrapped in the warmth of the sun would be a blessing right now. How long has it been since I’ve got to relax on the beach somewhere?

I glanced at my phone, a device most would have some of their most cherished memories with friends and family - even their pets - but I had none. Only mental memories of my old life that slowly fade or change as the time goes by.

To obtain something is to gain or get it usually by planned action or effort, as opposed to chance, purchase, or another method.

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Okay, the challenge here is daylight.

Sure, it's easy to do what I've got to do in the night. Ninja-mode.

But where's the fun in that? Sneaking through the coldness of each aluminum tunnel, left and right, sliding down and climbing up all while attempting to be sly as a fox.

One mistake and I'm d o n e.

I've studied every inch of the blueprint. I know every nook and cranny of this place, there's absolutely no-fuckin'-way I can mess this up!!

Alas, I'm staring down and out through the metallic curtains at the target. The vent brings ice up my spine, prickling the flesh beneath my shirt. Goosebumps.

Fuck! I hate the cold.

Lifting the vent without a peep and sliding the crate with enough room to achieve my goals. Slowly lowering a coin threaded on a very fine wire, accurately placing it down onto the box, and within a few seconds, a sneaky little paw captures the pawn! With the coin trapped, I'm now able to slowly obtain the target!

I grin like a mischievous little child until I hear her scream, "SHE'S GOT THE BOX!" Before they can even-fuckin'-blink, I grab the gun. BANG! BANG! BANG!

All three of them: D E A D.

I glare at them, smothered in paint and the CO2 smoking from my gun.

In haste, I pull the box up to my grasp. "I WIN BITCHESSSS!"

I couldn't help but gloat. My first win. Charlie, Nala, and Calaeno don't even know what they're creating out of me...

BAM!

Heavy, leather, steel toe boots hit the concrete as soon as the creaking bus doors opened. A gust of cold and crispy wind whisking by to kiss my face. “Fuck…” Gray orbs scanning for the nearest something to become a safe haven from the frost I was sure to endure… Yet all I saw was a halo in the sky and if my wanderlust has taught me anything - That’s the sign of civilization. 

I hate the cold…  

Yet, here I am in Montana as the beautiful fall wedding colors begin to fade into what I consider the enemy season; Winter. “Ugh.” Grunting while throwing the heavy duffle over my right shoulder, shifting the weight onto my left leg to distribute the weight evenly. 

I take two steps, the bus closes its doors with a whoosh coming from the hydraulic system. The bus clunks and jerks into gear and soon all you could hear in the eeriness of this empty bus stop is the rolling away of worn out tires on a worn out road and then nothing … 

Oddly enough, I knew my destination and STILL wasn’t prepared for the drastic change in temperature. 

First mission, new clothes.

With my free hand, fingers already struggling to move, I grab a hold of the cotton hoodie attached to this beat up, zipped tight, leather jacket and tug it over a wild set of curls - my ears already grateful for the action - and set my course towards the city or town lights. 

I’ve been through worse.

And it’s true, I have. So, I really can’t complain… Right? It’s just a few miles, give or take a few here and there. 

I really wish…

My heart jerked, ripped, and b l e d. I couldn’t think about it. It was time to move on, I had to move on. Can’t look back…

Having many twists and turns.

Winding.

Marked by devious or indirect tactics.

Complicated, long, and confusing.

______

The fight never e n d s.  Life continues. 

Doubt is a dangerous form of inception.  A virus. 

I’ve had my highs and I’ve mad my lows.  I’ve had a fair mix of love and h a t e.  Overstimulating joy and the darkest depression. 

Nevertheless, I didn’t lose it.  F a i t h. 

Faith that I’ll survive.  Faith that God has His hand on me. 

To whom it may concern,

Finding my scribbles of what one would deem nonsense means that I fucked up some where along the line and didn’t survive another day. The odds were not in my favor; Fuck, I knew I could only last so long in their world. 

This also means that the t r u t h about me has been revealed. The search for a missing Florida Girl that has been labeled: Case - c l o s e d. 

You may be asking yourself what I mean by all this - like I said - nonsense, I promise to get there, however first and foremost I need to tell my family this:

I don’t know how to put an apology of such magnitude into words that will ever change the outcome of your lives due to my actions. The only selfless reason I can give for leaving is so that you wouldn’t die a brutal death as I’m sure I have - one that will only be explained by the writings of my madness and if this ever makes it back to you.

A mother’s love is e n d l e s s until it is; I became the murderer of her. Not the cancerous battle, not the insufferable pain of recovery. In the heavens above I pray that you know I did not mean to make you suffer more than you’ve already had. The fear of my death has always haunted you, taunting you; I know how you’d lay awake at night until you heard my truck pull up in the drive. I know how you’d wait for an “I’m safe.” text to put your mind at ease when I stayed out. I know how your heart would break with every beat, shattering like glass that cut through your veins with every pump, at the simple t h o u g h t of something bad happening to me. Yet, little did I know the implosion you’d experience when the search for me went cold and how it would kill you! I hope you have p e a c e now. 

Not only did I become a thief of her life, but I also took yours. It was us against the world. I was your ‘big little sister’. I left you as if you were nothing to me; You were everything to me. I know you’re still alive but are you living? I know you still breathe but are you breathing? I took the quality of your life away; How dare I! The burden I left upon your shoulders with no one to help you through. Oh, how I stole so much from you! The worst part is that you should h a t e me for what I’ve done and yet I know that if I had ever made it back to you, you’d love me as if I’ve never left. I truly pray with all my heart that God grants you the peace of mind to move forward in life, to ease your pain, your suffering, and the guilt I know you feel. It was never you. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have done more to save me, to save her. Release yourself of the burden and let me carry it in the h e l l I now live in; Where it and I deserve to stay. Unfortunately, sister, with all I’ve been through I will not be seeing you in salvation. Only the blind and faithful will be there with you. Stay blind and faithful.

Brothers, you’ve abandoned us before I even left and in truths, I’m not sure what my departure has done to you. In my memories you’re both a gust of wind, flowing in every once in a while but never seen; Never staying. I wish you would have stayed for Mom, for your sister, but who am I to talk... Right? Take it from me, beyond the grave, take care of our sister. She needs you both.

If you value your peace of mind, s t o p here. For ignorance truly is bliss- I wished to have lived my life by that quote but instead I followed another:

“Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back to life.”

At the end of the day, my motives were selfish. I didn’t fit into this world and so I thought I’d fit into theirs instead...

The study of flags.

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The pencil flicks between my pointer and middle.

The tips tapping the table at each end.

Tensions high.

Me against y o u.

I take a sip of the piss warm beer.

We're on the last question.

Winner takes all.

Grinding my teeth as my brain scrambles through random facts learned throughout centuries of life.

The host, with his bellow voice, began to set up the crowd.

"Alright folks. This is it. Last question of the night. Two players left."

Every word d r a g g e d out of his lips.

Alas, the question:

"Which British overseas territory does this flag belong to?"

The image then flashes to the screen.

I gasp!

I scribble the answer down and SLAM my hand against the bell so hard that it sandwiches beneath my palm.

I bleed a little.

I turn the scrap of paper in.

The host takes a deep breath.

"Ladies and germs," he tries to be funny, "for the win is the answer B E R M U D A ?"

He takes the clicker into his palm and painfully slow flips to the next page.

"DING, DING, DING!! WE HAVE A WINNER!!"

Confetti flies in all directions as they grab my arm and lift it to the air like I've won a wrestling match.

"FREE APPLEBEES FOR LIFE GOES TO CHARLIE!!!"

I snicker, greedily taking the card of unlimited meals!

Guess dating a chick taking vexillology (the memory of helping her study makes my eyes roll- soOo boring) class paid off.

I give the card to second place, grab my stuff and leave.

A woman who loves or is loved.

Female sweetheart or lover.

----

I gaze down onto her b e a u t y.

Ocean eyes. Golden hair. Sunkiss skin. Lush pink lips.

I trace the outline of her, less than, dramatic curves. Down, down, down. Up, up, up.

A finger swirls around the tiny lump against her chest, the circle slowly getting smaller as I make it to the peak.

I tweak the rosy bud. Mmm.

She's c o l d.

I cup her jaw, my thumb glides gently along the edge. Her cheek rolls into my palm.

My body lays along hers; Naked and unafraid.

Intimate. Satisfying.

After being in the deep throes of passion t h i s is the aftermath.

My arm wraps around her frame; I pull her close.

Her slumber isn't shaken.

"Mi inamorata," I whisper into her ear before the tip of my nose traces down her neck; Taking in the gardenia scent that lingers.

Moisture in the sheets, against her skin- It sticks to me.

My stomach growls; The call of my inner beast.

I have no choice but to obey.

I weep.

"I'm sorry..." For no one makes it out of bed with me a l i v e.

Precarious.

Not securely held or in position; dangerously likely to fall or collapse.

Dependent on chance; uncertain.

----

We all sat across the table from one another -

h u n g r y.

Our stomachs growling, sweat beading down our foreheads. Eyes suspiciously shifting onto one another.

I lick the salty liquid away from my upper lip.

Held close to my chest was three hearts.

I could almost feel them beat.

I know I'm in a precarious situation.

I glance to the table. One heart sat there. I try to keep my own at bay with meditating breaths.

Seconds feel like hours in the heat of the game.

We couldn't trust eachother; not at such high stakes!!

Sun-glazed eyes move to the man in charge, betting him my a l l.

I'm starving and all I needed was one more heart to get my fill. One more. Just. ONE. More.

But it couldn't be just any heart, it has to be h i s.

I hold my breath as I see the man play his final move.

"AH HA!" I scream at the top of my lungs as I lay my cards down onto the table. "ROYAL MOTHER-FUCKING FLUSH BABYYYYYYYYY!!!"

10, Jack, Queen, K I N G, Ace!

I laugh maliciously while leaning over the table with my greedy paws piling up the bills and sliding them to my chest.

Solipsism.

A theory holding that the self can know nothing but its own modifications and that the self is the only existent thing; also: extreme egocentrism

Bumptious. 

Presumptuously, obtusely, and often noisily self-assertive: obtrusive

--- 

It was no secret that everything about me was n o r m a l. 

Borderline boring. 

‘I get it.’ 

There was no room for me; As if that was new. Even in my own reality, I was an outcast. Very few moments in time did I feel like I fit in - even with my closest friends but very often I just felt like an extra body to fill the space. Nothing more or nothing less. Just someone breathing the same air as them so that they could expand the number of people present, have someone else watching the nonsense, becoming a witness to whatever they wanted gossiped about the next day. 

Shit. Did they pick the wrong person. I suffered from a form of solipsism back in those days and no, I wasn’t narcissists' but it was very hard to believe in anything other than myself.

I was my own saving grace from the darkness of my mind when things went wrong and I was filled with a void I couldn’t escape. 

However, things took a turn for the worst as the years went by. I was naïve to think they’d get better by simply doing nothing. 

It was the first time, in my life, I’ve been struck across the face by the male species. I don’t even want to refer to him as a man - He was no man at all. 

The hit was a r e a l i t y check. 

Didactic. 

Designed or intended to teach

Intended to convey instruction and information as well as pleasure and entertainment

Making moral observations

Glean.

To gather grain or other produce left by reapers

To gather information or material bit by bit

To pick up after a reaper

To strip of the leavings of reapers

To gather (something, such as information) bit by bit

To pick over in search of relevant material

Find out

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In this new world, I never knew what to expect. I had to find it all out on my own at first. Slowly but surely, gleaning, learning, and storing what I’ve learned for later use. 

Unfortunately, the knowledge, I was gaining meant that I was more of a target. I’ve found this out the hard way. 

The ‘upper class’ off t h i s world has met me and actually let me live. 

This was not good, I think it made people more curious about me. Okay, not people - BEAST. 

Not to mention the kingpin himself. He was quite a didactic person. The very first and only time we’ve spent time together in the same air, I could see the way he watched me. Just watched. Silent. Curious as to why I was being chased by wolves.

The smoke from his nasty cigarette engulfing me; COUGH. Just the memory was enough to make me cringe. 

Nevertheless, he was the first to understand my willingness to d i e for the sake of knowledge so he granted me it. 

Confused or meaningless talk

A complex and sometimes ritualistic procedure

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B l o o d. 

Screaming. Panic. Pain. 

I toss, I turn. I’m uncomfortable. I could feel the heat of my adrenaline. I could feel the pace of my heart; Explosive. My eyes shifting in every direction trying to catch the scene, every detail. It all moved so fast. Everyone began to vomit, children in agony over the sight. W A R. 

Yet, this was to prove a point. A don’t you dare fuck with us kind of point. It was inhumane. My heart kept swelling with emotion as my orbs finally landed on the victim of such circumstance; Aren’t we all just victims of circumstance? 

Restrained, down on their knees, arms spread out. Every single fuckin’ rib ripped away from the spin - it’s placeholder. Tragically pried from the body but stuck by the muscle. The victim bellows out in agony, their head was thrown back and screaming to their god to help. Oh, but my sweet, he was not coming. They never do. Not that one at least.  He begged, and begged, cried, asking for forgiveness as the knife carved and scraped against his peeling skin. Cutting into the flesh to get to the next piece of the puzzle, the lungs. They were extracted, stretched like gum, and pulled over the ‘wings’ formed by the ribs; How is this man still alive? His blood creating a crimson pool the Vikings took p l e a s u r e in.

Alas, the man began to heave, and slowly but surely he took his last breath. 

The malice of this Viking rigmarole; The Blood Eagle performed from beginning to end, and I witnessed it... 

To inform against: betray

To turn informer: blab

Fun Fact: Did You Know? If you guessed that the origin of this verb peach has something to do with a slightly fuzzy fruit, you are unfortunately incorrect. The fruit peach is an unrelated word that traces back to the Latin phrase malum persicum, literally meaning "Persian fruit." The verb blossomed from Middle English apechen ("to accuse"), itself an offspring of the Anglo-French verbs apecher and empecher, both meaning "to ensnare." Empecher is also an ancestor of the English verb impeach, meaning "to bring an accusation against." Both of these English verbs can be traced back to Latin impedicare, meaning "to shackle the feet," and that word is itself rooted in ped-, pes, meaning "foot."

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Everyone is fuckin’ n u t s. 

"Nuts I tell you!” I threw my hands up and stared at my friends. A chuckle escaped my lips just before placing the Frost Flavored aka Light Blue Gatorade to my lips and taking a long refreshing drag. 

Leaning back against the football bleachers, legs stretched out, elbows keeping me perched, sunny glasses on, curls a wild-fuckin’-mess but who did I have to impress? No one. It’s the way I liked it, living up to anyone’s expectations could be quite tiring which is why I set the bar low.

 It’s homecoming weekend and my friends were dying to get to the game, I just came for the night out of the house and the free food that was offered. Food will get this chick anywhere. The tips of my shoes tapped against the metal as the game raged on; We were not in the lead. We never were. I have no idea as to why the game mattered so much. Wrestling is where our school excelled, not football. 

It was time for the announcements of Homecoming Queen and King. I wondered if this would play out as it did in the movies - with the cliché popular kids winning or a prank done on to the so-called “n e r d s” of our senior class. 

As most would assume, I’ve always been quite a loner or with a small group as I am now, though most of them were ‘coupled’ up except me; Truth be told romance wasn’t my style, feeling certain ways was foreign, so fuck-me sideways when my eyes landed on him. 

I couldn’t help the way my body slowly leaned forward, hands reaching for the bar in front of me to pull all 135 lbs up off my ass. I tilted my head forward and the glasses slid down the bridge of my nose giving me a more clear vision of the blond-haired, roughly 5′11, well built (too well for high school; S H I T), holy mother Greek Gods of a man. 

Captivated. 

Until I got smacked on my back and brought into reality. “Yo, Vic. You good?” I shook myself from the hypnosis I was put under and my brows knit together as I turned to face my friend. “Yeah, yeah... I’m good.” I knew my face was flushed from its olive tone and replaced with a crimson shade.

An associate or coworker typically in a profession or in a civil or ecclesiastical office and often of similar rank or status : a fellow worker or professional.

---

I laughed. It was a laugh from deep inside, one that caused my arm to coil around my ribcage, my knees buckle, and down for the count rolling all over the floor. Tears began to flood my sockets and over flow as I roll onto my back and begin to calm the laughter with a few deep breaths.

I was at work but is okay since I was cleaning up the dressing room; Retail, gotta' love it.

My boss just finished telling me about a one night stand that involved a monkey incident all the way to her peeing her damn pants and I was D Y I N G.

I needed a good laugh.

When I finally managed to make it to my feet, I could feel her playful glare. "Girl, that's not even the worst part!"

"No, no, don't tell me!" - "Yes!" - "NO!!!" - I screamed and laughed dramatically, falling to my knees again. This was hysterical! I can't deal! I am deceased, coffin, decayed, and dust!

Little did I know that this colleague of mine would become one of my closest friends, my confidant, my back bone. I loved her so much!

Full of windings and intricate turnings: tortuous

--- 

When you meet someone, you never know how life will change. You don’t know if this person will become a sentence, paragraph, chapter, or the rest of your whole damn n o v e l.

You begin slow. 

Hello there. 

That’s how it started. Hello. There. Two simple words. Every morning. H e l l o T h e r e. They follow me everywhere. Every time I hear it, I wonder if that’s you; Your voice is the only one I can ever hear saying those words... 

I didn’t know when it started but after a few hello there’s; This wall of mine began liquefying. I can see your smile. 

We spent every day since we met talking non-stop. 15 hours a day and I swear at night we’d meet up in our dreams and continue talking. That’s all we did. Talk. Nothing more and nothing less, yet it was enough. You’re enough. 

Eventually, I felt this tug inside. A pull of strings reaching out, extending across the world to get to you. My soul. My soul. My soul. Our souls. They were anfractuous. 

Of, relating to, or consisting of two dactylic hexameter lines the second of which lacks the arsis in the third and sixth feet

Written in or consisting of elegiac couplets

Noted for having written poetry in such couplets

Of or relating to the period in Greece about the seventh-century b.c. when poetry written in such couplets flourished

Of, relating to, or comprising elegy or an elegy; especially: expressing sorrow often for something now past

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English was my most favorite subject in high school. So much so that I actually bonded with the English teacher - Ms. Lewis. From Freshman to Junior year she took me down the wonderful world of literature.  I guess you could say I was a favorite of hers, I used to sit with her after class working on puzzles together and talkin’ about everything in the love of w o r d s.

I’ve always found my peace in between the turn of a page. Lost in the elegiac perfection of what literature has become today. How it’s grown, how someone can bring to life the feelings they harbor deep inside.