Storytelling

He wakes up. The car has been destroyed. Down the bank and into a tree. He’s lucky but he doesn’t believe in luck really. Whatever it is doesn’t matter. Some self searches are pointless.

Out the window and onto a branch. Some minor cuts but the major thing will be finding a ride. The road is black and meaningless. Not a moving thing anywhere but maybe an ant or beetle. At least, I have that, he thinks. Someday humans may be extinct is his next thought.

He pulls up his pant leg, simultaneously, and three bars come forward  from his shins exposing different guns. All small pistols. They appear to have been implanted into his body somehow. Maybe by his own doing. After the war, things never were the same for John. He use to hold his own hand for comfort, and repeat I have my legs still, i do i do. Everyone knew he didn’t. So John isolated himself. Not because he hated people but because he had given too much of himself to other people. He felt he had to fix his own problems. So he did. He took his welding abilities and crafted prosthetic legs with gun holsters. Barbara,  his wife,  almost called the cops in fear he had lost it after the war. But he had explained to her, the guns were unloaded and just for show. She believed him because he had such a interesting sense of humor.

But now, these guns would become no joke. John finally would need them to stand on literally and in the moment. The accident didn’t destroy him but the more he walks the more he struggles. He finds a barn and sleeps in the loft, hoping he can figure out what has happened tomorrow. The accident is just a blur.

“SIR!SIR! ARE YOU OKAY?”

Some girl is talking to him he thinks.

“SIR!”

Ok, definitely is.

“Um, Hi. I had an accident. Sorry. Your barn seemed like a good nap spot.”

“Ok, well. I don’t know if you watched the news, but you probably should.” She says.

He pulls out his phone and feels chills run down his spine. His phone isn’t turning on.

“How is your TV working?”

“Excuse me? Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Listen, I thought…I thought something happened,like an EMP.”

“Oh, well if it did, I would know from the radio or news. I EMP proofed everything.” She states with confidence.

Now he’s scared. For two reasons. One, she seems nutty. And two, he may not know if an EMP hit.

“Just  hurry up” she insists.

There’s a hole. Underneath the John Deere tractor. It leads to a ventilated tunnel. Which then leads to her nutty fortress.

She listens to the radio carefully. Points to it for him.

“Today, America has suffered a blow which will create a division within these boarders. We ask people try to remain calm and help one another through these troubled times. The EMP has destroyed cars, computers, and the power grid. Some states remain intact due to funds directed to the power grid. However, most states remain uninhabitable. The red cross and government will be aided every civilian. Please be patient. Thank you America.”

“I don’t think it is them. I don’t know who but I know it isn’t our country talking anymore.” She says

“I know what you mean. Everything is off balance. I am glad you are prepared though. Definitely helps. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” And she barely smiles.

The Woman Who Lost It All*

She sits on her leather sofa they just bought a year ago, thinking “oh how I once worried about what color this is. Now I just want to get rid of it for free.” Caressing the leather, she imagines she isn’t even there but rather in another state, in a new house, with a new man, and her beautiful children treating him as if he is their blood. Over and over she tells herself it isn’t too late to fight for what she has always wanted; peace.

Their pictures are everywhere. Old memories once kept her sane, but now make her think she is headed inside a straight jacket. His scent is everywhere. All over her clothes especially. She has spent the entire day re-washing everything. Almost symbolic in a way, cleansing the filth of his wrongdoings off of her. So much blame, she says to herself. So much blame I have taken on to get to this point. All the introspection, day and night, beating myself up for what? To be forgotten. What happened to not giving up on someone? These days she perceives everyone as on the go, on to the next, and rather than fixing what is wrong, finding the new thing that might feel right for an evening or two.

Where do I get my faith? Do I ask god why this happened to me?Or rather just face the fact he would rather kiss the lips of another than mine. Why? She asks. In my head, he is still like a god. I still love the part  of him I first locked onto. How could he make it all go away? So quickly? Why can’t i?

She is convinced her heart is a fool or it is derived from gold. She chooses the gold because it makes it easier to hope. Hope for herself and hope for her children to grow up with a male figure who teaches them how to play ball, treat women, and straighten their tie. She wishes it could have been him but some play roles rather than living them.

The kids will be home shortly. So should he, but maybe he won’t be. He will probably call and say he is late at the office but she knows where he will be now. Thanks to a good friend at the restaurant, the reservation isn’t unnoticed. All bad deeds come to a bad end. Sometimes they just need a push into the end part so the dignity and esteem of the innocent remains intact.

She knew something was wrong when she tried to use the credit card last week but the credit line was used up. An expensive purchase, a ring, she waited for it last week but it never came for her. She thought it could be hidden around the house but after two days of searching there was minimal hope. She ponders: Why are my dreams always sold away to the desperate girl who would love a towel? That is not love. To be so desperate for someone to take care of you, is never love. I spent my life bearing his children, cleaning his underwear, cooking his food, and paying for a house I cannot even stand in without wanting to cry. I deserve that ring or no one will have it.

It is five thirty. The reservation is for 6. She kisses her children, tells the babysitter it will be a while, then leaves. The sound of the rain upon her windshield reminds her there are some things out of her control; like the weather. Like in life but she would have it no other way. Forget the umbrella she mutters. I want to feel the rain. For so long he kept it out, hid it inside, and now there is a storm.

She is on a mission. Briefcase in hand. Her soon to be ex husband, is desperately trying to woo a young lady after his wallet. Risking his children minds, money, his wife, and the rest of his life for what? An empty mind which needs to be developed. The girl knows better, she wants an easy way out. They both are in the wrong.

She sits down. Rests the briefcase upon the table. Everyone is suddenly still. They think there is a bomb, but no it is a lie detector. She tells him to put his finger in it like it has been in other places it shouldn’t have. Question by question she writes down the results in front of the other woman. For some reason it doesn’t bother her this man is a complete liar. Disgusting, the wife thinks. The crowd in the background is roaring with excitement. They think this is some kind of reality tv show like cheaters. She ensures them it is, knowing people will fall for anything their own mind creates.

At the end, she asks the other woman, knowing he is a liar for years, do you still want this man? The woman says, he won’t lie to me. Noticing the ring on the table, the wife quickly snatches it up and says well then if you are so greedy, why don’t you just eat this ring? If you can swallow it, you can keep it. Their faces are lined up, and the wife aggressively pops the ring into her mouth, makes her swallow it and says well that will be a memorable proposal. And by the way, hunny, could you sign these divorce papers? He quickly does and she is on her way.

The home is still riddled full of his memories and an occasional scent, but she laughs thinking of the last time she saw him. The woman, the ring, the detector, the crowd, and the papers. Her children are playing in the pool, as if nothing has happened. She thinks, I did it soon enough. She watches her new husbands muscle definition as he scrapes the pool, smiling at her children, then running to fetch a band aid after one of them falls to the ground. She thinks again, there is hope in people if they have it in themselves. Glad I never lost myself completely.

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Realization

He stares into the night as if the road isn’t there anymore. He is driving but he appears to be floating mentally above the clouds, placing himself so high no one can catch up. Not even the pope, an oracle, Einstein, Dali, or any brilliantly crafted person could reach him. He chooses to be lost. There is the road but it goes back around in circles, creating a diversion even the strongest person could fall into. I have seen those eyes before, saddened, beat down, and fallin’ like the sword of a samurai. I don’t know when your eyes lost their color but I wish they could be restored the brightest color possible. I try to figure out all the triggers but so many exist it is nearly impossible to sustain some kind of bliss. Your mouth moves like a poem then a dagger. I blame myself but there is no way all your pain was caused by just me, you barely knew who I was. Perhaps, you could not see all your pain eventually manifested in me, like a ghost haunting a soul so I became the warrior. Left with scars, empty eggshells I once cracked to make you breakfast, I hold onto the thought the scars and eggshells will eventually just be nothing more than what they are.They will no longer remind me of suffering but of sacrifice. To change, is to sacrifice a part of yourself you no longer can be at harmony with. You were the part of myself I let go. You are a reminder pain exists but should never be laid upon another soul, already lifeless, already bruised, already out of battle. I may not be perfect but my god I have sustained myself through the impossible of times, and deserve a heart not secured by cast iron. I am too tired to peal back the layers of what is to find what was in someone. I am too broken to trust a world of creatures who move calculated rather than spirited. I will adore those who remain true and ignore those who chose a lie.

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Enlightenment

He sips his drink…the cigarette meets the end of his fingers yet he has no idea it has reached the filter. Just like his life, he cannot shake it is the end of the smoke, for it cleared already and the pain he feels is of his own making. Hold the cigarette tightly, then light, then puff, then put it out. Just like life it must have a course of action. It must be attended to or else it will sting. The same conclusion will happen with no action over and over again until there is nothing left but burned fingertips. Light, puff, then put it out. Please for the sake of your own sanity put it out. Don’t fall into the abyss like so many others for it is easier to give up then it is to continue to go straight. And how can you love someone who doesn’t love themselves? How can you breath their last breath for them? You can’t. You can only sit and watch the pain they self inflict upon themselves as well as you for caring. I may care too late sometimes but forgive me if there is a god for I have lived in fear and it is all I have known. But I am tired of excuses. I am tired of this life full of fear, shame, avoidance, and guilt. I don’t expect anyone to save me from it when they cannot save themselves.We all have turmoil. Some hide it well, others display it on a platter for the world to see. I don’t care anymore if  my makeup isn’t done, my clothes don’t match, my heart is in the right place. I ask if there is a superior being to help me achieve some kind of enlightenment for it has been too long fighting the negative forces around me. I see where I went wrong, I see where others go wrong, I try to help them and myself but really all that matters is what energy I expel. I hold onto my own hand as if it is the last time I will feel my pulse in my wrist for tomorrow is unknown. Life is beautiful enough, and I hope someday I can feel as if I don’t have to speak any words to someone, just feel their embrace and know all the pain was worth it. I love too much, lost too much, but live no regrets for regrets do nothing but hold the spirit down.

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Rant and Rave

I recover like no other. I hit the dirt and wander through the pines alone and weightless like a small deer ready to escape across the road and into the unknown. I don’t care to become part of the herd, but to live effortlessly alone. I don’t care for the partner in life anymore since nothing has been gained through anyone but what emotions I have been left to face. Alone. Alone. Alone. It has always been that way. Did I forget the same forest I ran through as a child is the small forest I run through today? Has my memory failed me or my lack of foreseeing this never ending cycle called life is what it is a cycle until death? Should death be feared if it means an end? Are all ends feared? No. I fear nothing but the monsters of people who inhabit this earth inflicting pain upon others for whatever they see as gain. I fear those who start war for money. I fear those who don’t release cures for diseases. I fear those who abuse just to feel better about their pathetic existence they created for themselves. I fear global warming is real and we are screwed. I fear clean water will eventually run out. I fear the planet will become so overpopulated we will have a mass extinction of the elderly. I am afraid everyday about things everyone should be afraid of. If one person counteracted one of these fears every day isn’t that better than avoiding them? What is it about society where we feel avoidance is the best remedy? Why do we run from what we should face and face what we should avoid? I am tired sick and sad everyday seeing the world as an oyster losing its shell. I tell myself though there are others out there who know what I feel. My existence is not unique, we are taught we are all unique but really are we? Isn’t it easier to realize we are the same in a lot of ways. Isn’t it easier to put aside the self righteous attitude and treat each other well? It is easier than fighting.

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Running

She has been running a long time. Running from everyone and everything. It is time to face whatever is following her. She looks to the left, to the right, behind and suddenly right in front of her is a reflection she cannot bear. She sees nothing but sadness, and realizes there is no point to it. Get over it she says. Whatever deep down is bothering you just let it go. She starts to run…her pants dragging upon the ground since they were never tailored, never cared for and never bought not on sale. They trip her up, but she fights every misstep well as if she has done this many times before.The same run through the same forest over and over until suddenly the scenery changes. The memories fade, becoming nothing more than a time once had with someone. Rather than remembering his face, she will remember the same woods as a child. She becomes free with a wild imagination, laughing, crying, and at times silent. There are no words to describe her existence. She lives free with emotion, feeling everything moment by moment, appearing to be in her own realm of reality. She watches her moments and others trying to figure out her own puzzle as well as theirs. Then she realizes it could take a lifetime to fulfill the answers to her questions. She smiles.

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Against The Glass

It was like you had my face pressed against glass. You said breathe when I couldn’t but let me occasionally gasp enough to stay alive. It was like I would have rather been dead then be teased with the idea of my life in the hands of someone so cruel. Or perhaps you were not cruel because you felt nothing. You were more like a sociopath, able to turn off the part of the brain which processes the infliction of pain on another soul is torture. I have many theories as to why you hated women. Why you decided they were of no use other than cooking, cleaning, and fulfilling any other selfish desires you had. Like their entire existence should be you, for you, about you, and all around you. Then suddenly, I am gone. Off wandering inside my head doing the dishes, thinking of palm trees you promised, skydives, and that resort we drove past. I would have loved to ride a segway in the woods and I am sure looking back any friend I had would have loved to go with me. And I am so angry. Why did I spend all this time upon someone who could not accept who I was, what I did for them, how much I cared, and how much I lost of myself for them. I don’t know if I can ever be the same after this. I use to think the world was wonderful and people were who they seemed to be but now, I see vultures. I see people almost programmed into similar relationships and hear the same stories from different mouths all the time. No one realizes how alike they truly are. We are programmed to think we are all unique which is not healthy. We need human connection, we all strive for it in some way, through family, friends, and lovers. It is what makes life balance out. But at what cost does it become more of a burden than a gift? What if you feel you have endured enough pain for a lifetime? I feel there should be no more pain inflicted on my soul by another as long as I live. I will not be troubled to save anyone anymore who does not want to be helped. I will be surrounded someday by good people.

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Wow! Lots of Little Men Boys Out There

I know the look in his eyes and he is looking for a superficially pride to fill up all that is missing inside. I could cook, clean, and run around like a machine but it wouldn’t impress him. He doesn’t care. He only feels his own pain. I could watch Martha Stewart ritually and come out of the kitchen with a 7 tier cake and get a WOW! A wow really. I could walk through the Sahara saving him from death and i’d get a thanks. WOW! Then he would ask me to stop at the nearest store buy him some snacks cuz’ he left his wallet somewhere again. Somewhere again. In the milky way it is flying around us, passing satellites and eventually boom! WOW! Its there again to buy something for himself. How amazing. I call it the greatest wallet magic trick ever overly used. I don’t why my heart beats around him. No I really don’t know because I think now it isn’t love but pure anxiety. I think it could explode again if he has to make one more public scene for his enjoyment like he is so hotshot on youtube pulling pranks. C’mon grow up. They aren’t clever. Be clever and nice it will go farther. Oh my bad I think, I know nothing about social norms. I only make commission off of being nice to people. I don’t think my thoughts are even worth expressing to this person because they just want to hurt my feelings even if I am right. WOW this is messed up! If I am wrong, it’s more pain. I know it’s there and I keep thinking, why the hell are you in it? Get the heck out. This could end up  even crazier. And so it does, and so I am left with nothing but what I thought and never said. Which is my gift and curse. Wouldn’t trade it for a blank page.

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An Evening of Unsplendor and Running Away

He invites me over as if the Queen is ok with it. I speak to the queen and she says favorable things to me coaxing me into a night of fire and music. I believe this to be true, since I ponder why a human being would devise such a plan to overthrow my evening. Especially not knowing who I am and how I carry myself. She speaks of harlots and youthful demeanor’s as if she knows firsthand from experience how to spot such qualities. She stares in my direction as if she speaks such words about me but I know they are of her own making. From the depths of her mind she unravels with each sip becoming close to her last. Not caring about her last moments, living a life of an existence she created out of a lack of empathy. She does not know who I am but knows my eyes speak truth, beauty, shame, remorse, revenge, guilt, empathy, and honor. I am everything not just one of those things. I am a multifaceted character with little ambition to live on the terms of others. To speak distastefully of another for one’s enjoyment is to speak with a false tongue. Your own words become yours and in the end of the night you are the one who must ponder if they were spoken too soon. Farewell my fallacy of a friend, for you waste your own time now.

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I Never Owed Anything and Neither Did You

I didn’t owe anyone anything when I was born. I should have came into this world free but instead I came with the cord wrapped around my neck, figuratively. And somehow I went through abuse and neglect, thinking this was normal and everyone does through it. I stumbled along realizing none of it was, my life was destroyed by those who should have helped me succeed, and the only person I had was me. I walked with my animals, knowing they would never betray me. I protected, fed, and cared for them wishing someone cared for me. I gave my life to things I knew wouldn’t hurt me and played it safe but it was only for so long. The boredom mounted, I needed social interaction or so I thought. But social interaction is only as good as the people involved. There are too many out to belittle others, tearing them down until they don’t even want to wake up. Then they have the nerve to flip it, like the person was deserving of it when they shouldn’t have wasted their time. People who hate themselves hate others. They hate what they cannot communicate. They hate they have to wake up and realize their life is not what they wanted and instead of changing it, take the easy way out. Pick a target, maim them, take away their independence, their individuality, and harvest upon it like a whale taking out a sea lion. One second, it’s over, they hit you hard, then run away like a coward.Say you don’t know pain when they created it for you. A regeneration of past memories surfaces in your brain of all the pain you’ve endured and you wonder why? Why do some go through so much and others so little? Why is it in most people’s nature to target the already targeted?They think you’re not worth a dime, but your thoughts are worth a million, forged out of every tragedy yet you will not end like a Dorian Gray. They will. And maybe you cannot even speak, you appear dumb, simply because they do not waste breathe on people who strive for a temporary satisfaction. The kind of people who stomp on others when they are already in a pile. You deserve nothing until you earn it. You don’t earn it by inflicting pain on others but being kind. Simple. Be mature, don’t misrepresent yourself, be kind, and people will open up. And not everyone is the same, some have unusual talents, so realistically no one is not deserving of anything. We are all deserving of something. We all can contribute in some way to society, it is just if we have the desire to. And desire can be evil or good. It is up to the person but if you chose evil be prepared to surround yourself with it, eventually having to decide if you can cope with the guilt and shame you feel for being that kind of person.

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Insecure

You never opened your mouth when you kissed me. I didn’t know for sure but I thought you either were insecure about your teeth or maybe you didn’t think I was worthy. Either way, it was lame. There was little to work with, but I had to create this kind of situation to fix. I was used to struggling, broken hearts, and ending up alone. Figured I had nothing to lose but I did have something: me. I never thought the light coming from your eyes was not pure and blinded rather than led. I followed it like a child on a leash, feeling diminished yet knowing eventually I would chew out of the collar. It just doesn’t make sense to restrain someone. No one truly can own another person. You should be with someone not by force but by feeling safe with them. I realize how blind I once was and now see some angels as devils because nothing can erase the pain. And i try not to relive it….for I know my spirit deserves peace or companionship. No more pain.

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On the Porch

I’m on the porch, sitting with a cat I have no name for. His owners pushed him out the door and left him to run wild again. But the problem is, he was tamed and now cannot find his bearings outside. He cries, I cry, and I touch his head and around his face like I wish someone would do for me. It is hard to look at him and not see myself. Pushed out a door and into a cruel world, a world waiting for a gullible person like me to surface. So I can learn the dark depths of the truth concerning human nature. I remember a time when everything was night bugs, swimming, campfires, gardens, and love. That time feels like 23 years ago because it was but still all those years ago I cried for suffering. Despite the lack of empathy towards me my whole life I was able to maintain some kind of faith that there is always something worth saving. And ever since then a hole in my stomach has slowly been getting eaten away by the acidity of the world. I try to keep it going with food but how many mouths i have fed becomes gut wrenching. Some still pretty in their big houses, never taking in a stray, never having a child, never contributing to another person in a positive way. Those who have power rarely use it in good ways. They play it safe while the rest of the world plays a cruel game. I stare back at the cat…I am crying. He is crying. And I think how beautiful it is to have the ability to cry and feel empathy after going through enough to lose hope.

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GABA Ruins

F*ck sh*t f*ck! It happened again. I fell for a person who doesn’t really exist. They created an image of themselves as if they were god then subjected sad females to the torment of being dragged through a fallacy. It is as if the relationship was on a stage, lighting done perfectly, his hair gelled, his airplane ready, his smile practiced, and his words written inside his head before even spoken. I hated the way his mouth moved as if the words came out showing a disconnect from his brain. And I knew what it could mean, but I doubted myself. He made me doubt my own intelligence. Made me introspect until there was a war going on inside my mind but at both front lines was me. Just repeatedly taking the bayonet and trying to force it between my ribs but finding my ribs in the way every time. As if my own mind was trying to protect itself from evil. In the back of my head, a voice going off saying self inflicted pain does not promote a healthy outlook. Especially if it is influenced by a cruel human being.You need introspection, he’d suggest. Meanwhile, he’s popping xanax and drinking the shittiest rum on the planet. And i am thinking, you escape reality every morning, do not improve everyday, and sit with your finger pointed at everyone else. Who the f*ck are you?  Your GABA receptors have overturned your brain turning it into a constant state of “calm.” But is it calm? Do you wake up already calm or does your body crave the calm? I think the latter. Your brain could no longer function without it. It would have to face the harsh reality that by trying to escape anxiety you have created a point where it will all have to come back rushing over you like a high tide. The inevitable faces you. Be a tool for the pharmaceutical industry or decide to almost die trying not to be. And trust me, you will want to die but you will be so messed up mentally you couldn’t even execute a plan to. You will lie on the floor in disbelief a drug like this is even FDA approved. Your body will get hot then cold, cold then hot,you sweat through your face right to your toes. You cry, you laugh, you don’t know where reality is but you know it exists but your own brain cannot see it. You know time is the only thing standing in your way. Time could kill you. And when you think it’s over, it isn’t. You can’t sleep for months, you try everything but your brain won’t shut off. The GAMA receptors are overfiring now, making up for loss time. You feel like you should be in a cage as an experiment because you cannot believe this drug is out there on the market. You become sickened by the idea your suffering is fueled by money, once again, money. You read other peoples responses to it and notice over 80% seem to have the exact same issues. How could the statistics not show this? Who did the actual testing? who were the patients? I have no idea. I think they chose to show the information which was most beneficial for them to pass with the FDA. And now I see suffering everywhere in people who take it or stopped taking it. It’s not right. People should be warned by their doctor how life changing this drug can be. And if you take this drug and try to have a relationship you should warn people you are at the point of possible detox. It might make someone more sympathetic when they understand what you are going through rather than just coming off cruel. I will spend the rest of my life dedicating my existence to those who suffer from this drug and help them realize the brain may not function the same ever again, but there is life outside of it. They can recover and become productive in society. I hope those of you going through this realize you must accept help from others. Do not hurt people just because of your own pain.

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The Families of Hazmat Suits

There was a bomb, I thought. And all the neighborhood heard it. Those with guns were preparing for war. The peoples faces were covered in ash, and a couple children made streaks underneath their eyes like Indians. I wondered if they watched too much television and hoped their parents would slit the neck of any person trying to do harm to children. The dust was everywhere in the air. We all assumed we would have radiation poisoning but just wanted to find somewhere safe.

John, four houses down, suggested we follow him. He had been working on an underground shelter and became very withdrawn from the world. He spent his days trying to craft the perfect underground fortress with no vulnerable areas. The design was not flawless but as close as one could get to flawless. Each room had a hallway connected to it, which had a series of doors. There was a control room which has access to all the doors. A second control room was created with the ability to override the first incase an intruder seized the more obvious control room. Every family would have their own area to live with extra protection. If one family died in an invasion, the other families would constitute enough power to avenge. Each person would wear a suit as well…when entering and exiting at all times. These suits have controls which can only be accessed with unstressed facial recognition. Therefore if sometimes tries to make a person access these out of fear the program detects the threat and overrides that persons ability, almost as if it reads your mind.

The entire operation has been thought out by John for years, he has given up seeing his children play baseball or ride a bike just to prepare. He knew if he did not prepare no bikes or baseball would even exist for them in the next ten years. The country was on the brink of disaster. Too much debt, no jobs, and corporations finally owning the rest of the population. Congrats! You ruined the economy he thought to have so much money you couldn’t even spend it in your lifetime. But yup, yell at the poor.

John had selected which famlies he would help if this situation ever happened. This list was chosen years ago and did not include new friends of him. Choosing was hard on him. It was like choosing who deserved to live more, and also who had the skills necessary to benefit survival. John had to rule some families out because of health conditions alone. A shame he thinks he couldnt save everyone and everything though. But he knows his efforts went above and beyond what most would do.

John rallies up the Westons. They are the tech experts. Each one has some kind of degree in engineering, computer science…you get the hint. Their dad is a scientist and has warned everyone of a nuclear bomb but no one bothered to respond but John really. The Westons funded part of John’s underground shelter and even know how it operates. They are the dorks. You have a math problem, computer issue, anything tech related the Westons can fix it all. With a family run computer shop they all are used to working together as well. John ranks them high on the survival scale.

Next it is the McKinley’s. The thinkers.The people of high anxiety but highly energetic.They care too much at times, but overall can analyze situations beyond what normal minds can do. They are intuitive, observant, tactical. Their father is a guiness world record holder hunter, who can shoot an enemy as a far distant with no problem. He is a master at tactical methods. He has taught his family well, and they all stay fit like a FBI squad. They all mastered the gun, the bow, the crossbow. There is nothing that can take them down without a fight. John needs force in his bunker.

The Evans are creative minds. They are artists, journalists, lawyers, musicians and designers. They do not follow the normal pathways like others. They have had a long hail of struggles to become successful but still carry a liveliness and sense of humor. They view this catastrophe as somewhat of a social catastrophe. They have studied and researched events leading up to the collapse and have an idea of what lies afterwards. They above average intelligence and capability in many areas which is why they are appealing to John. They are adaptable people.

Everyone meets at the shelter entrance wearing hazmat suits and respirators. Shall we….John says and jumps down the stairs…..

Continued…..

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Grandma Day

I think of her randomly. When a truck almost hits me head on; I think of her. When her sweater falls upon me from the top shelf; I think of her. When I see a small, big-eyed, older, and smiling woman; I think of her.

Your face was like the sea and your voice was like the air. You always believed in something good. Despite having little your whole life you maintained a kind of hardness. You took care of those younger than you before yourself. You tried to pave their road with as little rocks as possible.

Into the fields you went. Hands in the soil, buckets in hands, and a heart of gold you carried it all. The weight of the generation beneath you and your own. Grandma, your hands were never pretty, but they never had to be. Your skin was tougher than any warrior of ancient times. You didn’t need a sword because you had a heart fear couldn’t touch. That type of character is now almost extinct and with your memories I keep it alive.

I don’t want to forget you, your struggle, and your stories. Your fears, your love, and beliefs. Time can not change what you have taught me. When I look up at the sky I imagine all the shades of blue are caused by your fingertips, dancing upon the horizon. I would say I love you but the previous words said it all my love. I hope you are resting well, smiles and all.

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Drunken Writing Experiment

So..I have never done this before and I don’t why. I decided this afternoon I would drink some rum and write about nothing in particular just to see if anyone really gives a s*it.  I’ve decided I want to try to fulfill the drunk writer stereotype just for today and it is kind of fun but something I would honestly not do every day. Anyways, and yes I am throwing in a typical anways with a mother fucking comma like a cliche retard….right now I am listening to Eyedea and Krisoff Krane “Best Friends.” I think it is one of the most creative lyrical rap songs. Maybe it is honestly because rap lyrics usually are about tits, ass, cleavage and butt cheeks. Haha, I just said the same thing twice on accident. OH not really, just on purpose to get my message across. I really enjoy this song and I think I should invest some time into music reviewing. I just realized I listen to about just everything and I fucking hate people who say they do when they don’t. To listen to everything would mean you have been pushed to such boredom you must find something new everyday to listen to.  That sucks..and yes, I live in a shit town where I must do this but you know what? I don’t care because I have culture without the culture. I have been reduced financially as a poor student to find my only way of expression…which is compounded by a lifetime of influence no one thought would mean shit but I knew all along would eventually be admired by the general public. I have literally watched everything I listen to become mainstream. I am not going to be one of those people who complain about it but rather I think it is evolution of music. However, I think if a person has talent they should just start their own label. Do it and be it. You don’t need a contract anymore. Be thankful for that. I think writers should also be thankful they have access to such inspiring music without the need of money anymore either. It essentially makes it possible for writers to zero in on any genre, any artist, any medium, anything you fuckin want. We may think we do not have freedom as writers but we do now more than we ever have. It is an illusion they want you to believe you cannot have influence.

I write every fucking day not because I want attention but because I want to be an inspiration. I also want to appreciate other artists, especially in music since it has been the backbone of my spirit. In times when humans were not there for me it was all I ever had. And I believe I owe something to it. And maybe i dont owe anything, anything but really I want to make it right. It is like if someone buys you lunch,  you buy the next lunch. That is how I feel about anything that gives me inspiration. i have to take that energy and use it and by god I will.

Life is a quest for nothing; but it is in nothing that we find everything.

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