Literary Velocity

The Oracle

2007-02-24T12:48:00.000-05:00

Shielding my eyes from the bright sun, I stepped from the porch and raised my face to the sky.

"It's a beautiful day," her voice was sweet and tender.

"Yes it is," I replied.

The sound of the screen door slapped shut in the background, his steps thumped unceremoniously across the porch and down the steps.

"You know you will never be happy with him," she whispered into my ear.

"I know," the sinking feeling slowly ebbed in, diminishing the effect of the beautiful day.

I stared at him as he brushed past me without a word and walked to the truck, pausing slightly when he realized I wasn't following him like an obedient dog waiting for acknowledgement.

"I had better go, he's in one of his moods," turning to leave I briefly wished a silent wish that life didn't have to be so hard.

Climbing into the drivers seat, my mind travels, for a brief moment, to a time long ago when I was still a child. My Father had been drinking, a lot of drinking, and we were almost home. He was rambling in the front seat about heritage and how important it was that I live up to my heritage. He had taken his eyes off the road and we had hit a tree head on.

"Are we going to go or what?" Startled by his voice, I turned in his direction and nodded. "What were you thinking about?" his voice sounds worried now, he's afraid I'm having another episode.

"Nothing, I just had a thought," attempting a smile, the reflection in the rear view mirror shows no facial expression at all.

Looking into my husbands face I realize for the millionth time that I do not love him. I try to remember a time when I might have, but I can't. If I were a stronger person I could just leave him, but I'm not. I'm weak. I stay with him because it is so much easier to stay with him and be unhappy than it is to leave him and break his heart.

"Ok, if we're going to get there in time, we've got to get going," his voice has regained it's sense of urgency.

Lovely Lies

2006-05-23T18:04:00.000-04:00

Shielding my eyes from the bright sun, a single tear drifts down the soft skin of my cheek, finally resting in a listless drip at the bottom most part of my chin. Stabbing torrents of pain rip at my chest as I gasp for air, his retreating form growing smaller in the distance, forever lost to me.

"It'll be ok," I speak the words aloud, secretly praying I can believe them. Forcing myself to turn from him, I feel as if the world has slipped into slow motion, every step using every ounce of energy I have left. Overwhelmed by sadness, the tears flow uncontrollably when at last I find myself at my car.

He is gone, not even a spec on the horizon, my eyes will never again rest upon his.

Lost Souls

2006-02-18T19:21:00.000-05:00

I.

The crisp morning air stung deep in her lungs as she hurried along to catch the last vanishing glimpse of sunrise.

"Aaaah.... I made it...." clutching her wrap, she pulls it tighter, every morning a little chillier then the last. The thin fabric of her night clothes do little to block out the cold, yet she pays no attention. This is his time, her time to be with him. Standing alone, she surveys the land around her, thinking of only him. Missing him. Wanting him.

II.

"I really think you should come into town and have dinner with us tonight," a woman's voice on the other end of the phone pauses, briefly, "we would love to have you over. Especially today."

"Why is that?" slightly irritated, she knows exactly why the invitation was put forth. "Because today is the 1st anniversary of his death? I'm a grown woman, you don't have to worry, I would prefer to stay in this evening." Her voice expertly masking the emotions dwelling within, silent tears slip down her cheeks, the voice on the other end never suspects a thing.

"Ok, honey, but if you change your mind, don't hesitate to stop in, ok?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Hey, you have a good day, I'll talk to you later," hanging up the phone, she heads toward the kitchen.

Calculated Risk

2006-02-05T14:25:00.000-05:00

I.

The night is still and unseasonably warm, little beads of sweat have formed above my upper lip and across my forehead. Crouched just beyond the illumination of the window, I see her sitting in the chair lazily watching a TV program, left hand absently twirling a tendril of hair between her fingers. She needs me, I can feel her every fiber calling out to me, yearning for me. The only thing between her and I is a thin pane of glass, I could so easily break that barrier, but I won't, not today.

A loud crash echoes from behind, setting me on edge. Silently cursing, catching a glimpse of her through the corner of my eye, I collapse down to my hands and knees in anticipation of her glance.

She turns and looks in my direction, but I'm too quick, she doesn't see me. I've crouched beneath the window, contemplating. I should leave, I can come back tomorrow, but I have to see her one last time. I can't leave without saying goodbye.

Circling to the side window, I peek in one last time. So beautiful, her head sleepily resting in the palm of her upturned hand, eyes half shut. She should go to bed, she doesn't get enough sleep, she needs me to help her, she needs someone to look out for her.

God knows that useless excuse of a husband doesn't. How does someone like that end up with someone like her? She deserves someone so much better, someone who will take care of her, someone who will make sure she eats properly, and gets enough sleep, someone who will love her the way she deserves to be loved.

II.

Sitting in the recliner, eyes heavy with sleep, the warmth of the house has lulled her into an almost dreamlike state. Her husband was due home hours ago, she is not worried though. He is always late, she has grown accustomed to it over the years. Trying her best to stay awake, she tries without much success to follow the story line of a sitcom.

Quickly glancing across the street, she is startled suddenly by the neighbors garage door slamming shut. "One of these days someone is going to get hurt by that Bill...." she says to herself. For years that door has had a mind of its own, slamming shut at the least expected moment.

Yawning, she pulls herself to stand, stretching, the need for sleep has consumed her.

III.

To Be Continued.....

Chance

2005-12-03T20:14:00.000-05:00

I.

Sputtering to a stop at the edge of the road, he slammed his fists on the dashboard in anger, cursing his wreck of a life. It is now 3 o'clock in the morning and he is stranded on the side of a barren highway. Not quite sure what to do, he exits the car and circles it several times, finally reaching in to pop the hood, not that it will do any good. A mechanic he is not.

An hour passed by before the welcoming sight of headlights on the horizon. Jumping out of his car he anxiously awaits it. A man in a pick up truck eventually slows to a stop and asks if he could use any assistance. Without hesitation he climbs aboard the truck.

"Hey man, you have no idea how glad I am to see someone out here!" He's shaking the pick up drivers hand and beginning to unwind a little. If he can catch a lift to the nearest service station, he'll be back on the road again in no time.

"Well, then, I'm glad I came along when I did," the pick up driver's voice is low and quiet, his eyes never leave the road.

Several minutes pass in silence as an unease begins to creep over him. He is silently convincing himself that everything will be ok as soon as he gets to the service station. He pushes from his mind the confining feeling of the surrounding darkness, the silent danger of the quiet pick up truck driver.

Relieved to see the oncoming lights of the service station, he breathes a sigh of relief, wiping his sweaty palms on the fronts of his jeans. The pick up driver watches, through the corner of his eye, as the man nervously clutches the door handle, trying to escape him. 'Not this one' he tells himself. "Hey man, I sure am glad you came along when you did." He's not as excited as he was when he first climbed aboard the truck. He knows.

"No problem," the pick up driver replied, turning slightly to look his passenger over from head to toe.

"Hey man! Where the hell are you going!" the driver picked up speed as the service station flew past. As the realization of the situation closed in on him, tiny beads of sweat form above his upper lip, the color slowly fades from his face.

"I have something else in store for you, Roy."

II.

The same old feeling of dread and self loathing washing over me as I pull into that God damn driveway. My face contorts with disgust and hate, the only thing keeping me from torching the place is Roy. Tonight's the night, tonight is going to change everything. Roy is going to help me change everything.

"Get out of the truck Roy," flipping the visor down, grabbing the key, gotta be quick. Gotta be quicker then Roy, he's too fidgety over there. I can see his mind working overtime, I'm much smarter though, he doesn't have a chance.

"Look man..... I'm not Roy, for God's sake, I don't even know a Roy! Just let me go man, I swear I'm outta here and you'll never see me again!" he is panicked, his hands are fidgeting, sweat is dripping in his eyes.

The corners of my lips are curling into a smile, he's scared and I haven't even started yet!

Spring Love

2005-11-27T15:10:00.000-05:00

After searching all morning, he finds her sitting by the old stone fence. The morning sun reflecting from her hair, silky and shimmering, beautiful reddish brown waves cascade down her shoulders and back. His heart skips a beat as she looks up and smiles to him, waving for him to come join her. He smiles back in return.

"I've been waiting for you all morning!" she playfully teases him. Her face is flushed with excitement. So nervous, she begins to fiddle with a stray wisp of hair that has blown into her face.

"If you had let me know where you were going to be!" he teases back, kneeling down to kiss her lightly before he seats himself across from her. So shy, they both stare intently at the ground before them.

"Did you bring it? I can't wait to see it," she looks up at him, still smiling the lover's smile. The intoxicating, all consuming smile that shines from within.

"It's right here," he says, pulling a package out from under his coat. It is a picture of the two of them smiling and looking into each others eyes. Holding it in her hands, she lightly brushes her thumb over his face, her heart swelling inside her chest, she wants to sing and dance and cry all at once. He leans into her and lightly kisses her cheek, her scent lingering in his nose as he pulls away.

Both of them wishing for this one single moment in time to last forever.

My Life

2005-11-21T21:28:00.000-05:00

He's in one of his moods again. I hate it when he gets like this. I never know what to expect.

It's 2:30 in the morning and he has flipped on the bedroom light, purposely, to wake me up. Grumbling in the bathroom about white linoleum, he never lifts a finger around the house but feels it is his duty to criticize the way it looks. He's drunk again, he probably has no idea what he's even doing. Tears stream down my cheeks but I pretend to sleep through the whole ordeal. He doesn't say a word as he heads back down the stairs, leaving the bedroom light on. It's moments like these that I wish he would go away and never come back.

I'm unable to sleep at all for the remainder of the night. I just lay there awake and listen to him snore on the down stairs couch. I want to leave him, but I can't. Financial obligation and responsibility have trapped me into my current living hell. I would give anything to be able to escape. I am miserable and I have no idea how much longer I can survive like this.

After laying awake for hours, I decide to finally get up and get my day started. Barging into the bathroom while I'm showering he slams the door behind him. The force of the slam is enough to bounce the rod that holds the shower curtain several inches toward me. I'm frustrated at his disrespect and yell at him. Pointless on my part, it only makes things worse, he starts yelling back at me. Not a good start to the day. Shutting down conscious thought, I block the rest of the scene out of my mind. Inwardly I'm thinking about the time we took the kids to the beach and spent the entire day sitting in the sun and having fun.

I've kept this a secret from everyone who knows me. Embarrassment and shame keep me from talking about it with anyone. I don't want people to know my secret. What would they think?

A glint of light reflecting from the razor catches my eye. Without realizing it, I reach up and remove it from it's holder, staring at it as I hold it in my hand. My mind is blank, I have given up thought. The bathroom door slams shut as I watch the first drop of blood fall into the flowing water, swirling down into the drain. Spurting rhythmically with my heartbeat, the water at my feet is deep red.

I must catch my balance with the shower wall, I've grown extremely light headed. White spots dance before my eyes as I sit clumsily in the tub. The pitter patter rap of tiny hands on the bathroom door draw me from my trance, but it is already too late. A rush of fear sweeps over me as I realize what I've done. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is the tiny smiling face of my wonderful little boy.

The Watcher

2005-11-13T10:18:00.000-05:00

I.

The crisp November wind chilled her to the bone as she quickly made her way down the lonely wooded path. She could feel it's eyes upon her, watching her every step. It's heartbeat echoed in the recesses of her consciousness. Listening keenly for signs of movement, she quickly glances around at her surroundings.

She is praying silently to herself, as she does every night that she makes this trek. Through the woods she can see the lights to her home. Sighing with relief, she pulls her coat tight and bolts the remaining distance to the door. Only when she is within the safety of her home does she allow herself to relax, to let her guard down.

II.

He sees her off in the distance, hurrying down the path to her home, an aura of panic surrounding her. Many times he has watched her flee through the woods, always waiting until he can smell her fear in the air before departing. He is drawn to her, captured by her spell, overcome with the need to be near her.

In the blink of an eye he is outside her home, disguised by the darkness, undetected by the occupants. She sits at the table eating her meal alone while her husband and children frolic near the fire. He can feel the loneliness of her soul calling out to him, begging to be rescued.

Startled by the sudden growling from the dog, she quickly turns to face the window, he is already gone. Absently staring toward the darkened window, she raises a gentle hand to soothe the riled dog. Satisfied that the threat of danger has vanished, the dog reclaims his spot on the floor at her feet to continue his rest.

III.

Her dreams have become haunted with visions of an unearthly creature who has taken the form of a man. She tosses and turns, unable to lay claim to a restful nights sleep. Shadowed with darkness, her eyes indicate just how long peaceful sleep has eluded her. Wearily, she slips out of bed and silently heads toward the living room. Her husband has grown impatient with her incessant ramblings about 'The Watcher'. Starting to doubt her own sanity, she no longer brings the subject up. Instead, she has created a journal to document her thoughts, a journal that she has skillfully kept hidden from the remainder of the world.

She can still feel it inside her mind, probing her innermost secrets. Never has it lasted this long, her brow is creased with worry as she furiously scribbles the words 'why me' over and over upon the page. She continues to write as her thoughts take her elsewhere, to a time when she was still whole, to a time before it had found her. The snapping of her pencil lead pulls her back to reality. Recoiling in fright, she loses the white knuckled grip of her pencil allowing it to fall to the floor. The words 'you have the key' have been scrawled along the bottom of the page.

Acting on instinct, she tosses the journal into the fire. Her heart is pounding, she must escape, but there is nowhere to go. It is everywhere all at once, and nowhere at the same time. The sound of a distant howl breaks the silence in the room. Raising a visibly shaking hand to her forehead, she begins to silently pray.

IV.

It has taken so long for him to find her, he is beginning to grow impatient. Her growing weakness is beginning to concern him, it takes very little effort to reach into her mind. It is no longer an option for him to wait for her to find him. He will have to go to her.

Sadness and despair overcome him. The time has nearly come for him to complete his journey. Unaware of how crucial her role is, she is the key to his survival.

V.

Through the corner of her eye she sees movement off in the woods. At first she dismisses it as one of the playful squirrels that have been dancing around her all morning. Smiling to herself she glances off in the direction from which she spied the movement.

Something is not right. The woods have grown silent, the restless little squirrels and chipmunks have all disappeared. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end at the realization that she is not alone. It is out there.

"Hello there." Out of nowhere a man has appeared at her side. Startled, she screams out in fright and tumbles backward away from the stranger. He remains still and calm, watching her. There is a dark familiarity to him that she can't put her finger on.

"Who are you?" her voice is trembling. She turns her head for a brief second, scanning her surroundings. No footprints. She does not see a single footprint. How did he get there?

"It's time to start again." Still watching. Still calm. Still no footprints.

"Who are you!" she yells at the top of her voice. She wants to run but she can't, it won't let her. Tears have begun to stream down her face. If only she could run.

"I've tried to be patient, but I can't wait any longer." Without a step he is suddenly mere inches from her. The world goes black as she collapses to the ground.

He must act quickly, his time his running out. Leaning above her, he pulls out the knife he had tucked away in his jacket. Blood droplets splatter his face as he makes the incision, it goes unnoticed. His every last muscle is focused at the task at hand, he must not make a mistake. Skillfully, he reaches in and removes the growing fetus from her womb, the fetus that had not yet been discovered by her.

The man and fetus are gone in the blink of an eye.

VI.

"When did you last see your wife?" The officer is fiddling around with a note pad. He is irritated, this is the second time this week he has been called out on a missing persons report. This is the stuff they send the rookies out to, not people like him.

"This morning, she was still in bed sleeping when we left," grief stricken, her husband has his face in his hands, cursing himself for leaving her alone. He knew she wasn't well, he left her anyway.

"Is there any reason why she would leave without notifying you of her whereabouts?" Lifting his eyes from the note pad, the officer is getting impatient.

"No, God damn it, there is no reason why she would just disappear!" her husband explodes. His eyes are red rimmed, his voice hoarse.

"We will be in touch if we receive any leads. Just had a man go MIA earlier this week. It's like he disappeared into thin air, nobody's seen a trace. He didn't happen to know your wife did he?" Her husband stares at the officer in disgust. The officer is oblivious to anything and everything but himself.

Silently he curses himself, wishing that he had paid more attention to her, listened to her when she told him something was wrong.

VII.

"Damn, I forgot to get a fricking photo!" Forced to turn back, the officer curses his ignorance. Now he is going to be late for the poker game! Trying to cut some time from the trip back he pulls onto a little used trail that goes past the missing woman's house. The dispatcher's voice on the radio catches his attention causing him to look in the direction of the radio. Reaching down to answer the call he glimpses a flash of color through the leaves.

Stopping his car, he places a hand on his holstered gun and heads in the direction of the color. He immediately sees a human form laying on blood soaked soil and leaves. The woman's chest is slowly rising and falling, her breathing coming in shallow gasps. He knows without a doubt that this is the missing woman. Franticly he pulls open her coat and rips her shirt apart. No wound. So much blood, where is it coming from, how could she possibly still be alive? He flips her onto her side and scans for any sign of a gun shot or stab wound. Nothing.

VIII.

"How are you feeling Honey?" her husband is placing yet another bouquet of flowers on the table in her hospital room. She flashes a weak smile in his direction and nods her head in acknowledgement. For the first time in months she is at peace, it has finally left her alone. Leaning down to kiss her forehead, her husband inquires if she has regained any of her memory yet.

"Not yet," placing a hand on her stomach, she smiles at the wonderful news they had discovered earlier in the day. Soon there would be the excitement and joy of a new baby in the house. Pushed from her mind are the memories of her opening her eyes to the sight of the officer and ambulance crew, the sight of all the blood. For the life of her she couldn't remember how she got there, or how all that blood appeared. One minute she was walking in the woods, the next minute she was being hauled away on a stretcher.

All of that was behind her now, she was sure of it.