When the boy went back to school the following Monday, he had a sudden realization of just how lonely he was. It felt like something had happened to him over the weekend, as if he'd lost every friend that he had in the world. See, he was still being chased by girls, but no one really talked to him. He was still kind of on the outskirts of the social pyramid. He was just...sad.
In each of his classes, he noticed that one or two seats were empty. In his school, it was strange to have space in classes because of how jam packed it was. So it didn't make sense to him that so many places in classes went all year without being filled.
Whatever is making me think like this, it doesn't matter. I've got a magic hole that makes my problems go away, and I love it.
However, in two weeks, he was singing a different song. His life was no longer complicated, but it was like watching a play that had no conflict, or a movie with no plot. The boy went from one thing to the other, getting exactly what he wanted from it. It was too easy, but he just couldn't stop. He had enjoyed this in the past, but was now getting to the point where he realized just how important challenging himself was. If he forgot about studying for a test, or telling The Rabbit Hole that he had a test, he failed astronomically. His grades were slipping, and it seemed like The Rabbit Hole wasn't having as much of an effect as it was in the beginning. For example, when "Failed a test" used to turn a thirty into a hundred, now "Failed a test" turned a sixty eight into a seventy, almost like his life was developing an immunity to repeated changes from The Rabbit Hole. He was starting to become aggravated with it.
But that's not all he was upset with. His parents were noticing the fact that his grades were slipping, and constantly calling him out on it. Eventually, they made him quit his extracurricular activities to stay on track. When the boy had used The Rabbit Hole, nothing had happened. He was frustrated and getting depressed, as he couldn't leave his house much anymore (which also made going to The Rabbit Hole difficult). One night though, after getting a rather harsh verbal lashing from his parents, the boy crept out of his window and ran to The Rabbit Hole, holding a single slip of paper in his hand. When he got there, he paced a little bit, as he was nervous about what he was about to do. With a deep sigh, he looked down at the paper that read "Overbearing parents" and dropped it into the blackness.
He went home and laid down in bed, wondering how The Rabbit Hole would make his parents less overbearing.
*********************************************************************************
The following morning, the boy didn't wake up until almost ten thirty, as he had forgotten to set his alarm. When he bolted from his room, he screamed "MOM, WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?" No response. Arriving in the kitchen, he saw no breakfast was waiting for him like it usually was. Later on, when he got out of the shower, there was still no sign of his mother anywhere in the house.
She probably went to go visit Dad at work today. She does that a lot.
Before he went outside, he noticed something that caught his eye. The family picture that normally hung over the mantle of his fireplace had changed.
It was just the boy.
*********************************************************************************
At school, (which he still found himself going to despite what had just happened), he asked one of his teachers about his parents. The entire class laughed at him. Soon, he heard people whispering behind his back in the halls. That's when it hit him like a train.
I've turned into Anthony Maxwell.
He ran. He ran from the school. He ran from his house. He ran from his old life. He ran to the only thing that made sense.
He ran to The Rabbit Hole.
When he got there, he screamed down into the depths of it. "GIVE IT BACK! I WANT IT ALL BACK! GIVE ME BACK MY PARENTS!"
No response but the wind blowing through the leaves above him.
The boy began to cry as he sat there, just staring into The Rabbit Hole, waiting for something to change. That's when another thought struck him.
What actually happens to things that get thrown down The Rabbit Hole? Are they waiting for you at the bottom? What would happen if...
With that the boy stood and walked to the edge of the hole, just looking into the black abyss below him. He sighed.
There's nothing better to do. I've already thrown almost all of my life down The Rabbit Hole, there's just one thing left to go.
And he jumped.
*********************************************************************************
A teenage girl had been walking aimlessly around the forest. She was just ending one of the worst days of her life, and needed to get some air. However, walking aimlessly was not safe for her, as she suddenly found herself almost falling into a huge hole. When she dropped her backpack to look at it, she found a letter stuffed into the roots of the tree, with
To Whom it May Concern written on it. She opened it to find two pages covered in writing. She flipped the back of the second page to see who had written it. In scribbled handwriting, she read
Be cautious,
----------*
She gasped, letting the paper drop into the hole. ---------- was an orphan boy who had all but lost his mind and then just disappeared last year. The case was going cold, as there was almost no evidence that he had even existed. When the girl realized that she had dropped the page, she shrugged.
It probably wasn't that important anyways. She began reading the front of the first page.
To Whom it May Concern,
It is doubtful you know who I am, but my name is ---------- If you have found this, then I have no doubts you have found the Rabbit Hole as well.
She was too busy reading to notice hear faint voices shouting out "No! Turn around! Forget you saw this hole!"
*********************************************************************************
*: If you though that you were going to get his name after ALL THIS TIME, I'm sorry, you're sorely mistaken. The idea is that he can be anyone. I don't want to tie him down with any kind of name. Heck, for all you know, he could be you.
Final Thanks:
First off, the idea to write this came from Aaron Koehne, so I still have to give him props on this.
Second, a thanks to everyone who was listed as one of the boy's close friends. While I would never make you disappear, you really are some of my closest friends, and I figured that you needed to be in this.
Third, to all of you. If you're still reading this, that means that you've probably (hopefully...?) stuck around since the beginning. If you want me to write another story, just leave comments and I'll work on my next topic.
Thanks guys! I'll see you again in the ward. <3
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
The Boy and The Rabbit Hole, Chapter Four
It had been the best week of the boy's life. He had been accepted to every college he had applied for, gotten thousands upon thousands of dollars of scholarships offered to him, found out that he no longer had to do homework, and was almost constantly being pursued by females on campus that had suddenly developed a massive urge to date him. All in all, a much better week than any other teenage boy.
He was at the top of his game. However, what REALLY caught his attention was that no one seemed to think anything was different. It was as if the boy had always been exempt from homework, extremely desired, and was incredibly successful. This was, of course, not the case. The boy simply assumed it was the magic of The Rabbit Hole that was fixing everything. As long as he was happy, he didn't care if it was Satan himself at the bottom of that hole.
*********************************************************************************
Yet, when the boy went to his car at the end of the day on Friday, he found a note stuck under his windshield. When he picked it up and read it, he broke out in a cold sweat.
Alright, I know exactly who you are and what you're doing. You need to stop using The Rabbit Hole. There are a few of us at this school who know what happened to Anthony. We don't want it to happen again. If you use The Rabbit Hole again, we will personally take it upon ourselves to make sure that you NEVER go back to it. We WILL know if you use it. Once you use it, you're connected to it. We can tell when something has been Changed. Don't make us hurt you.
The boy didn't understand. He was almost one hundred percent sure that no one knew, simply because no one had asked any questions about his sudden increase in luck, including his closest friends.
Whoever left that note must have used The Rabbit Hole in the past and got what they wanted. They probably don't want someone else taking up their days. But what do they mean they know what happened to Anthony...?
That evening, the boy did the only logical thing he could think of. If these people knew what was going on, then by throwing the note in The Rabbit Hole would make them forget all about it. It was a perfect plan.
And he did just that.
*********************************************************************************
The boy was woken up by a loud rapping on his window at one o'clock that following Saturday morning. When he finally gained the consciousness to respond, he could just make out four figures crouched outside in his side yard. What the hell....
He crawled across his room and turned on the lamp by the window. He was shocked to see his four best friends, glaring at him through the glass. James, his oldest friend and neighbor, mouthed "Open up," which the boy did.
"What the hell did you try to Change?" He whispered this as he and the three others slunk through the open window.
The only noise the boy could make was "Huh?"
Hallie, his other neighbor, slapped him across the head. "We figured you would actually listen to us."
Again, "Huh?"
Emma, who he'd just met this year, shook his head. "We told you we would know if you tried to Change anything."
Beginning to understand, the boy turned to the last person, his ex-girlfriend turned best friend Camille, and uttered a halfhearted "Huh?" She didn't say anything, just shook her head.
James took control again. "We left that note. I'm actually amazed you didn't listen to it. Amazed and ashamed at the same time."
Finally the boy's mind connected with his mouth. "Explain. Now."
Camille took the boy's hand and sat him down on the bed, while the other three sat on the floor of his room. "Listen to us, please. We know about The Rabbit Hole. We know how it Changes things. We've all changed somethings about our lives. But we realized that The Rabbit Hole is just as dangerous as a drug. You get addicted to the amount of control that you don't normally have."
The boy looked up to find that the other three were nodding their heads in agreement when Emma piped up.
"The worst thing about it is that there is no 'Undo' function. You Change something, it turns out to have a negative impact, you have to live with it. That's why I stopped. I didn't want to take any more risks. I already screwed up once."
He gave her a questioning look.
"You don't remember him, but I had a brother. He was an absolute pain in the ass, so I threw his name down before I realized just exactly what The Rabbit Hole does. When I woke up, no brother. No pictures, my parents didn't know who he was, his old room was now a guest room. I still think about him every night and day. We want to make sure the same thing doesn't happen again."
That's when the boy flashed back to the note. "You wrote down that you know what happened to Anthony. Can you tell me?"
The four looked at each other and Hallie nodded. "This is what happened. He was a lot like you, actually. Until he found The Rabbit Hole and decided that he had a lot that he wanted to Change..."
*********************************************************************************
By four o'clock, the boy had learned it all. What had happened to Anthony. The exact way The Rabbit Hole worked. Everything. His four best friends looked even more exhausted than he did, so he decided that he needed to call it a night. As he was saying good-bye to each of them, Hallie turned back towards him. "Oh right, the whole reason why we came over. What did you Change?"
The boy paused for a second. He didn't want them to know that he had thrown the note into The Rabbit Hole., or else they would probably get quite upset. So, he just decided to do what he was best at, tell a lie. "You won't believe it. I got pulled over AGAIN on my way home to school today, so it was just another one to get rid of traffic tickets. You got your feathers all ruffled up for a traffic ticket."
Emma, James, and Camille laughed when they heard it and climbed out of the window, but Hallie seemed a little more skeptical. "Okay...sorry for keeping you up so late. Go back to sleep." With one leg outside, she paused, then turned back and gave the boy a bear hug. "Please don't do anything stupid with The Rabbit Hole, okay? We all love you, and don't want to see you do anything to hurt yourself. Okay? I love you, you stupid kid." And she slid out the window without a glance back.
As the boy turned off the lamp, he noticed that Emma had left her purse on the floor. He picked it up and hung it on the handle of his door so he would remember to take it to her house in the morning. The boy climbed into bed, happy that now he not only understood what he had found, but he had such a fantastic group of friends that all knew exactly what he was going through.
*********************************************************************************
When his alarm blasted into his ear three hours later, the boy groaned. Why the hell am I so tired? I got nine hours of sleep, I should be fine right now. What the heck? Why is my window open? Maybe Mom shut the air off last night and wanted me to be cool. That makes sense.
He got out of bed and walked to his door, grabbed the empty door handle, and twisted, walking out into his living room to find his mother sitting on the couch. "Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you open my window last night for whatever reason?"
She looked up from her magazine. "No sweetie, I had the air on all night. Why did you leave your window open ALL night?"
"I'm honestly not sure! I don't remember opening the window at any point last night. And I was in bed at ten, and didn't wake up until seven, but I'm freaking exhausted. I didn't work yesterday, so I'm really confused."
"Son, did you drink last night?" His mother's voice was dripping with sarcasm.
He laughed. "Oh yeah, totally trashed. Have you gotten the paper yet?"
"No, but it's been delivered I think. Can you go grab it?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. Don't get up from your throne, I'll do it."
"Oh shut it you."
The boy walked out into his front yard and saw the paper sitting on the sidewalk. As he bent down to grabbed it, he looked at his neighbor's yard on his right. The "FOR SALE" sign that had been there his entire life was still standing, as was the one to his left. He sighed. Why did we move into a neighborhood where two houses can be empty for seventeen years? I really wish there had been some kids in them growing up. Maybe we could have been friends.
With that the boy turned on his heel and waltzed back inside to his house, yawning.
*********************************************************************************
Author's Note: Oh no, what happened to the boy's friends???? If you don't get it, go back and re-read it, you'll understand.
And, if you're mentioned in this chapter, I love ya <3
He was at the top of his game. However, what REALLY caught his attention was that no one seemed to think anything was different. It was as if the boy had always been exempt from homework, extremely desired, and was incredibly successful. This was, of course, not the case. The boy simply assumed it was the magic of The Rabbit Hole that was fixing everything. As long as he was happy, he didn't care if it was Satan himself at the bottom of that hole.
*********************************************************************************
Yet, when the boy went to his car at the end of the day on Friday, he found a note stuck under his windshield. When he picked it up and read it, he broke out in a cold sweat.
Alright, I know exactly who you are and what you're doing. You need to stop using The Rabbit Hole. There are a few of us at this school who know what happened to Anthony. We don't want it to happen again. If you use The Rabbit Hole again, we will personally take it upon ourselves to make sure that you NEVER go back to it. We WILL know if you use it. Once you use it, you're connected to it. We can tell when something has been Changed. Don't make us hurt you.
The boy didn't understand. He was almost one hundred percent sure that no one knew, simply because no one had asked any questions about his sudden increase in luck, including his closest friends.
Whoever left that note must have used The Rabbit Hole in the past and got what they wanted. They probably don't want someone else taking up their days. But what do they mean they know what happened to Anthony...?
That evening, the boy did the only logical thing he could think of. If these people knew what was going on, then by throwing the note in The Rabbit Hole would make them forget all about it. It was a perfect plan.
And he did just that.
*********************************************************************************
The boy was woken up by a loud rapping on his window at one o'clock that following Saturday morning. When he finally gained the consciousness to respond, he could just make out four figures crouched outside in his side yard. What the hell....
He crawled across his room and turned on the lamp by the window. He was shocked to see his four best friends, glaring at him through the glass. James, his oldest friend and neighbor, mouthed "Open up," which the boy did.
"What the hell did you try to Change?" He whispered this as he and the three others slunk through the open window.
The only noise the boy could make was "Huh?"
Hallie, his other neighbor, slapped him across the head. "We figured you would actually listen to us."
Again, "Huh?"
Emma, who he'd just met this year, shook his head. "We told you we would know if you tried to Change anything."
Beginning to understand, the boy turned to the last person, his ex-girlfriend turned best friend Camille, and uttered a halfhearted "Huh?" She didn't say anything, just shook her head.
James took control again. "We left that note. I'm actually amazed you didn't listen to it. Amazed and ashamed at the same time."
Finally the boy's mind connected with his mouth. "Explain. Now."
Camille took the boy's hand and sat him down on the bed, while the other three sat on the floor of his room. "Listen to us, please. We know about The Rabbit Hole. We know how it Changes things. We've all changed somethings about our lives. But we realized that The Rabbit Hole is just as dangerous as a drug. You get addicted to the amount of control that you don't normally have."
The boy looked up to find that the other three were nodding their heads in agreement when Emma piped up.
"The worst thing about it is that there is no 'Undo' function. You Change something, it turns out to have a negative impact, you have to live with it. That's why I stopped. I didn't want to take any more risks. I already screwed up once."
He gave her a questioning look.
"You don't remember him, but I had a brother. He was an absolute pain in the ass, so I threw his name down before I realized just exactly what The Rabbit Hole does. When I woke up, no brother. No pictures, my parents didn't know who he was, his old room was now a guest room. I still think about him every night and day. We want to make sure the same thing doesn't happen again."
That's when the boy flashed back to the note. "You wrote down that you know what happened to Anthony. Can you tell me?"
The four looked at each other and Hallie nodded. "This is what happened. He was a lot like you, actually. Until he found The Rabbit Hole and decided that he had a lot that he wanted to Change..."
*********************************************************************************
By four o'clock, the boy had learned it all. What had happened to Anthony. The exact way The Rabbit Hole worked. Everything. His four best friends looked even more exhausted than he did, so he decided that he needed to call it a night. As he was saying good-bye to each of them, Hallie turned back towards him. "Oh right, the whole reason why we came over. What did you Change?"
The boy paused for a second. He didn't want them to know that he had thrown the note into The Rabbit Hole., or else they would probably get quite upset. So, he just decided to do what he was best at, tell a lie. "You won't believe it. I got pulled over AGAIN on my way home to school today, so it was just another one to get rid of traffic tickets. You got your feathers all ruffled up for a traffic ticket."
Emma, James, and Camille laughed when they heard it and climbed out of the window, but Hallie seemed a little more skeptical. "Okay...sorry for keeping you up so late. Go back to sleep." With one leg outside, she paused, then turned back and gave the boy a bear hug. "Please don't do anything stupid with The Rabbit Hole, okay? We all love you, and don't want to see you do anything to hurt yourself. Okay? I love you, you stupid kid." And she slid out the window without a glance back.
As the boy turned off the lamp, he noticed that Emma had left her purse on the floor. He picked it up and hung it on the handle of his door so he would remember to take it to her house in the morning. The boy climbed into bed, happy that now he not only understood what he had found, but he had such a fantastic group of friends that all knew exactly what he was going through.
*********************************************************************************
When his alarm blasted into his ear three hours later, the boy groaned. Why the hell am I so tired? I got nine hours of sleep, I should be fine right now. What the heck? Why is my window open? Maybe Mom shut the air off last night and wanted me to be cool. That makes sense.
He got out of bed and walked to his door, grabbed the empty door handle, and twisted, walking out into his living room to find his mother sitting on the couch. "Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you open my window last night for whatever reason?"
She looked up from her magazine. "No sweetie, I had the air on all night. Why did you leave your window open ALL night?"
"I'm honestly not sure! I don't remember opening the window at any point last night. And I was in bed at ten, and didn't wake up until seven, but I'm freaking exhausted. I didn't work yesterday, so I'm really confused."
"Son, did you drink last night?" His mother's voice was dripping with sarcasm.
He laughed. "Oh yeah, totally trashed. Have you gotten the paper yet?"
"No, but it's been delivered I think. Can you go grab it?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. Don't get up from your throne, I'll do it."
"Oh shut it you."
The boy walked out into his front yard and saw the paper sitting on the sidewalk. As he bent down to grabbed it, he looked at his neighbor's yard on his right. The "FOR SALE" sign that had been there his entire life was still standing, as was the one to his left. He sighed. Why did we move into a neighborhood where two houses can be empty for seventeen years? I really wish there had been some kids in them growing up. Maybe we could have been friends.
With that the boy turned on his heel and waltzed back inside to his house, yawning.
*********************************************************************************
Author's Note: Oh no, what happened to the boy's friends???? If you don't get it, go back and re-read it, you'll understand.
And, if you're mentioned in this chapter, I love ya <3
Thursday, November 8, 2012
The Boy and The Rabbit Hole, Chapter Three
The boy was confused. The ticket had been right on top of his small collection of receipts; just last night he had double checked before he went to sleep (which probably caused that nightmare of a dream). He rustled through all the small slips of paper, just to check and make sure it hadn't slipped down anywhere. Again he found nothing. He opened the money flap and only found a few solitary one dollar bills. No ticket.
"Sir, please step away from the desk. You're wasting my time" the turtle woman snapped at him. "You don't have any record of a ticket. Maybe it was just a warning."
The boy nodded, then slowly turned away from the desk and exited the building. He was not one to argue about a two hundred dollar ticket that apparently didn't exist, but he knew exactly what had happened. He had hardly slept for two days because of the stress and fear of his parents finding out. For something that serious, what was going on right then just seemed...off.
With that thought, the boy suddenly flashed back twelve hours to the letter. Tomorrow, go and talk to your teacher about the overdue homework and try and explain yourself. If something seems off, then flip this page over. Until then, DO NOT KEEP READING.
This was the epitome of something being "off."
The boy quickly got back in his car and drove towards the woods, silently dreading what was awaiting him.
*********
For only being there once before, and finding the hole when it was close to dark, the boy was surprised by how quickly he found the hole again. It looked exactly as he had left it the day before, and could make out the crumpled letter stuffed in the roots, right where he had left it. As he approached, he found himself thinking about Anthony. The boy was tired of Anthony winding up in his thoughts all the time. It was something that was foreign to him. Now, with the ticket, he didn't think it was going to be possible to forget.
Upon reaching the hole, the boy sighed, but he was confused. Why am I so concerned and nervous about something that is obviously a trick? However, as he bent down and grabbed the envelope, he couldn't help but think that it might not have been a trick at all. Still, trick or no trick, the boy wanted to read the rest of the letter. He opened the envelope, pulled out the wrinkled scrap of paper, and turned it over to discover that it was covered in small handwriting.
If you're reading this, then something happened. I bet whatever was causing you stress resolved itself, in some way. Now, it's time for me to explain the Rabbit Hole.
I'm not even sure what the actual name of this place is, but I dubbed it the Rabbit Hole, because whatever gets tossed into it seems to just vanish into Wonderland. It's a funny story how I discovered that strange ability.
During sophomore year, I found myself a little...over-extended. I was being pulled in so many different directions with school, and work, and hobbies, and parents, and all sorts of other things. One day I just finally cracked.
The boy stopped. Parents? Anthony was an orphan. He didn't have to worry about parents.
One day I just finally cracked. I needed to get away from it all for a little while. So, one weekend, I headed off into the woods not far from my house. These woods. As I walked, I had completely zoned out and soon discovered that I was in a section of the forest I had not been in before. I was unfortunate to figure this out because I found myself almost falling into a concealed hole by a tree. The Rabbit Hole.
Of course it didn't mean anything to me. It was just a stupid hole that I had almost fell down. So I kept walking. However, I somehow must have walked in a huge circle, because an hour later I was back at the hole. Not sure how it happened, but it did. At that point though, I was too tired to care that I might have been lost. So I just dropped to the ground and sat there.
I don't know how much time went by, but it was getting dark when I finally realized that 1) I needed to get home and 2) my backpack was still on. Still, something about just sitting there away from all my problems sounded so...perfect. And that's exactly what I did. Well, sort of.
I figured that just sitting there wouldn't help anything. So, I pulled out a spiral and turned to a clean page. On that page I started listing all the things that had brought me up to this point. The first thing on the list? Too much school work. That was the brunt of my problems at the moment. But after writing that simple thing, I found myself just staring at the sheet. So, deciding that it was a stupid idea, I just ripped the sheet out, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the Hole. With that, I stood up, walked home, and collapsed. No homework, no dinner, not even saying hello to my parents. Completely wiped.
When I woke up in the morning, I didn't feel any different. If anything, my feet hurt from walking so much the night before. But I had almost completely forgotten about what had happened, and had DEFINITELY forgotten about the piece of paper. After realizing that I had, in fact, overslept, I grabbed my stuff and bolted to get to school.
Upon arriving to my first period, I remembered that I hadn't done my homework (honestly, not really a surprise). But, when the teacher came around to pick up the assignment, she just walked right past me. When I asked her about it, she told me that I had been excused from homework for her class. I laughed, telling her that I wasn't THAT lazy. She just kept on walking.
The same thing happened in the next class. And the following. By the end of the day, I was apparently no longer required to do any homework.
Needless to say, I was confused.
When I went home, I asked my parents if they knew anything about it, and they...
The boy again stopped reading. Seriously, what's up with the PARENT thing? ANTHONY WAS AN ORPHAN! Reluctantly, he continued.
When I went home, I asked my parents if they knew anything about it, and they said the strangest thing. "This isn't anything new Anthony. You've never had to do homework. You're teachers have said you don't need to." To this I laughed and went upstairs to show them the massive pile of unfinished (okay, who am I kidding, unSTARTED) homework.
There was nothing there.
So I left. I ran outside and into the forest. I needed to get away and clear my head. After running for a few minutes, I found myself, yet again, at the same freaking hole. The Rabbit Hole.
Suddenly, things started to click. It might have been from sleep deprivation, or too much stress, but it made sense to me that the Hole made things disappear. Then my interest grew. Just how much stuff could it make go away? Feeling my pockets, I found small scraps of paper and a pen that I had stowed there after class that day, and began scribbling. "College" got written, then thrown in. "Enemies" got written, then thrown in. "Traffic Tickets" got written, then thrown in.
And then I left, went home, apologized to my parents, and went to bed.
However, in the morning, nothing had changed. In fact, I had a message from the city saying that I still needed to pay my ticket. I didn't understand.
I went back that night with a single piece of paper. But before I could even begin writing, I saw that all three slips of paper sitting out in front of the Hole. It looked almost if the Hole had rejected them. I picked up the one that said "Traffic Tickets" and tossed that ONE paper in. I watched until it fluttered out of sight. Picking up the other two, I went home.
The next day, there was no record of a traffic ticket.
I went back after school and threw "College" down.
Every college I had applied to sent me a letter the next day saying I had been accepted with a full ride scholarship.
"Enemies" soon went down as well. This is where something went wrong.
When I went to school the next day, not worrying about homework, traffic tickets, or college, I noticed a distinct lack of
This was the end of the page, so the letter cut off there. It was obvious that this was not the end, so the boy looked in the envelope for the second sheet. He searched around the hole. He looked in the roots.
There was nothing there.
Oh well, he thought to himself, it can't have been THAT important. Let's take this time to get rid of some more stress.
So the boy, taking a leaf from Anthony's book, wrote "College" on a slip of paper and watched it fade into the darkness of the hole.
When he got home from school the next day, there were seven letters in his mailbox. Each one was from a different college that he had applied to. He smiled.
I'm pretty sure I just became the luckiest man alive.
********
Sorry for not posting in a while. A combination of writer's block/starting senior year has prevented easy access to my creative juices. Don't worry though, I'm gonna make sure that I keep up with this!
"Sir, please step away from the desk. You're wasting my time" the turtle woman snapped at him. "You don't have any record of a ticket. Maybe it was just a warning."
The boy nodded, then slowly turned away from the desk and exited the building. He was not one to argue about a two hundred dollar ticket that apparently didn't exist, but he knew exactly what had happened. He had hardly slept for two days because of the stress and fear of his parents finding out. For something that serious, what was going on right then just seemed...off.
With that thought, the boy suddenly flashed back twelve hours to the letter. Tomorrow, go and talk to your teacher about the overdue homework and try and explain yourself. If something seems off, then flip this page over. Until then, DO NOT KEEP READING.
This was the epitome of something being "off."
The boy quickly got back in his car and drove towards the woods, silently dreading what was awaiting him.
*********
For only being there once before, and finding the hole when it was close to dark, the boy was surprised by how quickly he found the hole again. It looked exactly as he had left it the day before, and could make out the crumpled letter stuffed in the roots, right where he had left it. As he approached, he found himself thinking about Anthony. The boy was tired of Anthony winding up in his thoughts all the time. It was something that was foreign to him. Now, with the ticket, he didn't think it was going to be possible to forget.
Upon reaching the hole, the boy sighed, but he was confused. Why am I so concerned and nervous about something that is obviously a trick? However, as he bent down and grabbed the envelope, he couldn't help but think that it might not have been a trick at all. Still, trick or no trick, the boy wanted to read the rest of the letter. He opened the envelope, pulled out the wrinkled scrap of paper, and turned it over to discover that it was covered in small handwriting.
If you're reading this, then something happened. I bet whatever was causing you stress resolved itself, in some way. Now, it's time for me to explain the Rabbit Hole.
I'm not even sure what the actual name of this place is, but I dubbed it the Rabbit Hole, because whatever gets tossed into it seems to just vanish into Wonderland. It's a funny story how I discovered that strange ability.
During sophomore year, I found myself a little...over-extended. I was being pulled in so many different directions with school, and work, and hobbies, and parents, and all sorts of other things. One day I just finally cracked.
The boy stopped. Parents? Anthony was an orphan. He didn't have to worry about parents.
One day I just finally cracked. I needed to get away from it all for a little while. So, one weekend, I headed off into the woods not far from my house. These woods. As I walked, I had completely zoned out and soon discovered that I was in a section of the forest I had not been in before. I was unfortunate to figure this out because I found myself almost falling into a concealed hole by a tree. The Rabbit Hole.
Of course it didn't mean anything to me. It was just a stupid hole that I had almost fell down. So I kept walking. However, I somehow must have walked in a huge circle, because an hour later I was back at the hole. Not sure how it happened, but it did. At that point though, I was too tired to care that I might have been lost. So I just dropped to the ground and sat there.
I don't know how much time went by, but it was getting dark when I finally realized that 1) I needed to get home and 2) my backpack was still on. Still, something about just sitting there away from all my problems sounded so...perfect. And that's exactly what I did. Well, sort of.
I figured that just sitting there wouldn't help anything. So, I pulled out a spiral and turned to a clean page. On that page I started listing all the things that had brought me up to this point. The first thing on the list? Too much school work. That was the brunt of my problems at the moment. But after writing that simple thing, I found myself just staring at the sheet. So, deciding that it was a stupid idea, I just ripped the sheet out, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the Hole. With that, I stood up, walked home, and collapsed. No homework, no dinner, not even saying hello to my parents. Completely wiped.
When I woke up in the morning, I didn't feel any different. If anything, my feet hurt from walking so much the night before. But I had almost completely forgotten about what had happened, and had DEFINITELY forgotten about the piece of paper. After realizing that I had, in fact, overslept, I grabbed my stuff and bolted to get to school.
Upon arriving to my first period, I remembered that I hadn't done my homework (honestly, not really a surprise). But, when the teacher came around to pick up the assignment, she just walked right past me. When I asked her about it, she told me that I had been excused from homework for her class. I laughed, telling her that I wasn't THAT lazy. She just kept on walking.
The same thing happened in the next class. And the following. By the end of the day, I was apparently no longer required to do any homework.
Needless to say, I was confused.
When I went home, I asked my parents if they knew anything about it, and they...
The boy again stopped reading. Seriously, what's up with the PARENT thing? ANTHONY WAS AN ORPHAN! Reluctantly, he continued.
When I went home, I asked my parents if they knew anything about it, and they said the strangest thing. "This isn't anything new Anthony. You've never had to do homework. You're teachers have said you don't need to." To this I laughed and went upstairs to show them the massive pile of unfinished (okay, who am I kidding, unSTARTED) homework.
There was nothing there.
So I left. I ran outside and into the forest. I needed to get away and clear my head. After running for a few minutes, I found myself, yet again, at the same freaking hole. The Rabbit Hole.
Suddenly, things started to click. It might have been from sleep deprivation, or too much stress, but it made sense to me that the Hole made things disappear. Then my interest grew. Just how much stuff could it make go away? Feeling my pockets, I found small scraps of paper and a pen that I had stowed there after class that day, and began scribbling. "College" got written, then thrown in. "Enemies" got written, then thrown in. "Traffic Tickets" got written, then thrown in.
And then I left, went home, apologized to my parents, and went to bed.
However, in the morning, nothing had changed. In fact, I had a message from the city saying that I still needed to pay my ticket. I didn't understand.
I went back that night with a single piece of paper. But before I could even begin writing, I saw that all three slips of paper sitting out in front of the Hole. It looked almost if the Hole had rejected them. I picked up the one that said "Traffic Tickets" and tossed that ONE paper in. I watched until it fluttered out of sight. Picking up the other two, I went home.
The next day, there was no record of a traffic ticket.
I went back after school and threw "College" down.
Every college I had applied to sent me a letter the next day saying I had been accepted with a full ride scholarship.
"Enemies" soon went down as well. This is where something went wrong.
When I went to school the next day, not worrying about homework, traffic tickets, or college, I noticed a distinct lack of
This was the end of the page, so the letter cut off there. It was obvious that this was not the end, so the boy looked in the envelope for the second sheet. He searched around the hole. He looked in the roots.
There was nothing there.
Oh well, he thought to himself, it can't have been THAT important. Let's take this time to get rid of some more stress.
So the boy, taking a leaf from Anthony's book, wrote "College" on a slip of paper and watched it fade into the darkness of the hole.
When he got home from school the next day, there were seven letters in his mailbox. Each one was from a different college that he had applied to. He smiled.
I'm pretty sure I just became the luckiest man alive.
********
Sorry for not posting in a while. A combination of writer's block/starting senior year has prevented easy access to my creative juices. Don't worry though, I'm gonna make sure that I keep up with this!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Boy and The Rabbit Hole, Chapter Two
That night, the boy dreamed of Anthony Maxwell. His face was floating in the hole, and calling out to him. The boy could hear Anthony calling out to him, asking where his parents were. He tried to run, but was pulled over by a cop and given a two hundred dollar ticket because he was apparently running in the "WALK-ONLY" section of the forest. The boy began to cry and turned away from the cop, only to find himself staring back into the eyes of Anthony in the hole. Instead of asking for his parents, Anthony was now asking for the boy's stress, for the traffic ticket, for overdue homework. When the boy threw the ticket into the hole, Anthony caught it in his mouth and vanished, but his voice could still be heard, screaming out for his parents.
He woke in a cold sweat, crying out into the semi-darkness of his room. It was early, much earlier than he ever woke up on a Saturday, but he couldn't force himself to go back to sleep. He was afraid to see all of that again. So he just lay in his bed, his mind wandering between thoughts of holes, tickets, and parents. The boy didn't understand how something so pointless and disconnected from him could torment him so much. Anthony Maxwell wasn't even his friend, he was the school psychopath. It was just a confusing connection.
Even more confusing, if not stupid, was that letter from yesterday. Why would Anthony leave a letter like that? Or was it even Anthony? Maybe it was some disrespectful kid just trying to freak other people out by posing as a dead kid. The boy corrected himself, Anthony wasn't dead, he was MISSING. Though everyone assumed something had happened. Even as he thought that, the boy heard his mother's voice prancing across his head. "You know what they say. When you assume things, it makes an A-S-S out of U and M-E. A-S-S-U-M-E-." His mother still treated him like a five year old.
He was wandering again. He turned his attention back to the letter. The boy also realized that even though he considered the letter stupid, he wasn't exactly practicing good logic skills. What was stopping him from reading the back of that sheet? Absolutely nothing but a threat that had no way of being acted upon. It was pointless to not read the rest of the letter while he could. Knowing his luck, when he went back, the letter would have been blown out of it's hiding place is would be sitting at the bottom of that deep hole. For all he knew, everything that had happened the day before was imagined. The boy did have a very overactive imagination for an eighteen year old.
However, he decided that he wasn't going to let something as pointless as that letter ruin his Saturday. School had only been back in session for a week and he was already exhausted. He didn't want to spend his first day off fretting over that.
And that's exactly what he did. He tried to live his Saturday like a normal teenager, but couldn't help thinking of the hole, and the letter, and Anthony Maxwell. Every place he went, he somehow ended up drifting back. Oh look, a pet store. It probably has rabbits inside of it. Or maybe it went something like Oh look, a mom and dad with their new baby! Anthony never had that... It was terrible.
But then the boy remembered. The traffic ticket. If he went and paid the traffic ticket and disproved whatever the letter was talking about, then he could move on and forget all about it. He decided that he would go and pull the two hundred dollars out of his bank account (he had just gotten paid at his usual job and could easily cover up the loss), then go downtown and pay the ticket at the courthouse. It would be cut and dry, nothing too difficult. He could pass it off without telling his parents, even though it would show up on his driving record. The boy wasn't too worried about it. Other than the fact that it was still a two hundred dollar speeding ticket.
***********
The boy had always been intimidated by the courthouse. It was a huge building, but unlike most courthouses, looked like a prison. It was solid gray, with the only windows shining into the lobby. He remembered taking a field trip here once in fifth grade, and could remember feeling uncomfortable under the harsh fluorescent lights. Too cold and unfeeling for his taste. Yet here he was again, walking through the tall wooden doors and heading to the reception desk, with his wallet in hand. The woman working there had hair that matched the outside of the courthouse and was hunched over an ancient computer, squinting through her narrow glasses. He could barely make out her shoulders under an ugly green shawl that was draped across what looked like her entire body. The more she hunched over the keyboard, the more the boy thought she looked like a turtle, not a human. Judging by the speed at which she was typing, it was very possible the woman was in fact exactly what he was imagining her to be. He found himself laughing as he approached the desk and tapped the bell lightly.
The woman spun her head towards him and scowled. "Give me your name, address, and reason for an appointment" she almost growled out as she shot him a glance that screamed "I don't want to be here, get away from my desk." Oh she's a turtle all right. A snapping turtle.
The boy said his name and address, along with explaining his ticket. Halfway through his story, the woman held up a wrinkled finger to silence him. "Sir, you have no record of getting a ticket. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
The boy stopped her, explaining that he had been pulled over for going sixty miles per hour in a forty. He had gotten a ticket for two hundred dollars and was coming to pay it.
"Young man, there is nothing under your name or address pertaining to a recent unpaid traffic ticket. Unless you have a receipt, then get away from my desk."
Again, the boy prevented her from shooing him off. He told her that the receipt was in his wallet, and was met by an outstretched hand. He opened his wallet and unzipped the pocket where he kept receipts and the like.
The ticket wasn't there.
MAJOR THANKS TO AARON KOEHNE FOR HELPING ME BREAK MY BLOCK. I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO YOU!
He woke in a cold sweat, crying out into the semi-darkness of his room. It was early, much earlier than he ever woke up on a Saturday, but he couldn't force himself to go back to sleep. He was afraid to see all of that again. So he just lay in his bed, his mind wandering between thoughts of holes, tickets, and parents. The boy didn't understand how something so pointless and disconnected from him could torment him so much. Anthony Maxwell wasn't even his friend, he was the school psychopath. It was just a confusing connection.
Even more confusing, if not stupid, was that letter from yesterday. Why would Anthony leave a letter like that? Or was it even Anthony? Maybe it was some disrespectful kid just trying to freak other people out by posing as a dead kid. The boy corrected himself, Anthony wasn't dead, he was MISSING. Though everyone assumed something had happened. Even as he thought that, the boy heard his mother's voice prancing across his head. "You know what they say. When you assume things, it makes an A-S-S out of U and M-E. A-S-S-U-M-E-." His mother still treated him like a five year old.
He was wandering again. He turned his attention back to the letter. The boy also realized that even though he considered the letter stupid, he wasn't exactly practicing good logic skills. What was stopping him from reading the back of that sheet? Absolutely nothing but a threat that had no way of being acted upon. It was pointless to not read the rest of the letter while he could. Knowing his luck, when he went back, the letter would have been blown out of it's hiding place is would be sitting at the bottom of that deep hole. For all he knew, everything that had happened the day before was imagined. The boy did have a very overactive imagination for an eighteen year old.
However, he decided that he wasn't going to let something as pointless as that letter ruin his Saturday. School had only been back in session for a week and he was already exhausted. He didn't want to spend his first day off fretting over that.
And that's exactly what he did. He tried to live his Saturday like a normal teenager, but couldn't help thinking of the hole, and the letter, and Anthony Maxwell. Every place he went, he somehow ended up drifting back. Oh look, a pet store. It probably has rabbits inside of it. Or maybe it went something like Oh look, a mom and dad with their new baby! Anthony never had that... It was terrible.
But then the boy remembered. The traffic ticket. If he went and paid the traffic ticket and disproved whatever the letter was talking about, then he could move on and forget all about it. He decided that he would go and pull the two hundred dollars out of his bank account (he had just gotten paid at his usual job and could easily cover up the loss), then go downtown and pay the ticket at the courthouse. It would be cut and dry, nothing too difficult. He could pass it off without telling his parents, even though it would show up on his driving record. The boy wasn't too worried about it. Other than the fact that it was still a two hundred dollar speeding ticket.
***********
The boy had always been intimidated by the courthouse. It was a huge building, but unlike most courthouses, looked like a prison. It was solid gray, with the only windows shining into the lobby. He remembered taking a field trip here once in fifth grade, and could remember feeling uncomfortable under the harsh fluorescent lights. Too cold and unfeeling for his taste. Yet here he was again, walking through the tall wooden doors and heading to the reception desk, with his wallet in hand. The woman working there had hair that matched the outside of the courthouse and was hunched over an ancient computer, squinting through her narrow glasses. He could barely make out her shoulders under an ugly green shawl that was draped across what looked like her entire body. The more she hunched over the keyboard, the more the boy thought she looked like a turtle, not a human. Judging by the speed at which she was typing, it was very possible the woman was in fact exactly what he was imagining her to be. He found himself laughing as he approached the desk and tapped the bell lightly.
The woman spun her head towards him and scowled. "Give me your name, address, and reason for an appointment" she almost growled out as she shot him a glance that screamed "I don't want to be here, get away from my desk." Oh she's a turtle all right. A snapping turtle.
The boy said his name and address, along with explaining his ticket. Halfway through his story, the woman held up a wrinkled finger to silence him. "Sir, you have no record of getting a ticket. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
The boy stopped her, explaining that he had been pulled over for going sixty miles per hour in a forty. He had gotten a ticket for two hundred dollars and was coming to pay it.
"Young man, there is nothing under your name or address pertaining to a recent unpaid traffic ticket. Unless you have a receipt, then get away from my desk."
Again, the boy prevented her from shooing him off. He told her that the receipt was in his wallet, and was met by an outstretched hand. He opened his wallet and unzipped the pocket where he kept receipts and the like.
The ticket wasn't there.
MAJOR THANKS TO AARON KOEHNE FOR HELPING ME BREAK MY BLOCK. I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO YOU!
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
The Boy and The Rabbit Hole, Chapter One
There once was a boy who lived on the fringe of some major city, in a comfortable house, with regular parents and a normal sibling. He had an average social life and a perfectly fine number of friends. He was, in all sense of the word, simple in almost everything he did. ALMOST everything.
He excelled in a few places. He was the brightest in his school. He was overly involved in his church and held a major national position in the Boy Scouts of America. To add on to that, he was a senior in high school, and beginning to face the biggest decision of his life: college. It was a avenue that would not be open to him without many hours of work, simply because his family was relying on him to get a NUMBER of scholarships to afford college.
Needless to say, he was under a lot of pressure.
However, one day, while walking though a small forest near his house, the boy stumbled across something he had never seen before. It was a hole, hidden between the roots of a crooked tree. The hole wasn't small by any means; he could easily fit himself inside the opening. He figured it was some kind of animal, like a badger or family of rabbits. Whatever it was, it was deep. The sun was almost directly overhead, shining straight into the hole, and he couldn't see the bottom. The boy reached his hand as far in as his arm would allow, to see if the tunnel turned or got narrow, but it just seemed to go on forever. Already getting bored, he retracted his arm, but not before brushing up on what felt like a sheet of paper stuffed in the roots at the opening. The boy grabbed the corner and dislodged it, discovering a small envelope with the words To Whom it May Concern scrawled in sloppy handwriting on the front. By the look of the envelope, it had been there for quite some time. No doubt the person it was meant for never found it in the roots. Becoming intrigued, he opened it.
Inside he found two sheets of paper folded neatly, a small slip of paper, and a pen. The boy pulled the sheets apart to see both sides of each sheet covered in the same sloppy writing envelope from the envelope. He began to turn back to the front, then changed his mind. Wanting to see who wrote it, the boy flipped to the back of the second page and his eyes jumped to the bottom.
Be cautious,
Anthony Maxwell
The boy gasped and dropped the page in shock, not even noticing that the dropped page was falling deeper and deeper into the hole, until it was completely out of sight.
Anthony Maxwell was a former student at the school that the boy attended. However, Anthony had something wrong with him. He was an orphan, but always rambled about his parents, saying they were just going to come back. His grades were horrendous, always had been, and he seemed none too interested in improving them. Honestly, he seemed to have no interest in improving ANYTHING in the world, and claimed he wouldn't until his parents came back.
Then he just vanished one day. No one knew where he went. The search began, but was declared cold a year later when no headway was made. Soon everyone, including the boy, forgot about him. It was a terrible story.
But this letter could help! It might have been the one clue that they needed to find him! The boy looked down at the first sheet and eagerly began reading.
To Whom it May Concern,
It is doubtful you know who I am, but my name is Anthony Maxwell. If you have found this, then I have no doubts you have found the Rabbit Hole as well. This isn't any normal hole. I don't totally understand it, but this is the extent of my knowledge.
I'm sure you have sources of stress in your life. Everyone does. I'm also sure that you've tried to rid yourself of that stress in a number of ways. No doubt most of them have failed.
The Rabbit Hole offers a foolproof way to escape specific sources of stress. Allow me to explain, because I'm sure you're skeptical. Take a slip of paper (I have included one and a pen in the envelope) and write a minor source of stress in your life (ex. "overdue homework"). Drop the slip into the Hole. Only ONE slip. Then go home and sleep through the night. Tomorrow, go and talk to your teacher about the overdue homework and try and explain yourself. If something seems off, then flip this page over. Until then, DO NOT KEEP READING.
The boy scoffed. This was rubbish, obviously some stupid ruse to learn people's problems. Still, he was interested in disproving the letter, so he grabbed the pen and wrote "traffic tickets" on it with the pen (he had just gotten a two hundred dollar ticket the past week and neglected to inform anyone of it yet. His copy of it was still sitting in his wallet, in a zipped up pocket with other recent receipts). He dropped the slip into the opening and watched it flutter away. He was laughing, thinking just how stupid he was to try this. The boy slid the letter back into the envelope and stuffed it back in the roots. When nothing happened the next day, he wanted to come back and laugh at the stupidity of Anthony Maxwell. He stood and turned, leaving the hole behind him, and returned to his simple life, with Anthony on his mind, wondering what exactly had happened to him.
MAJOR THANKS TO AARON KOEHNE FOR HELPING ME BREAK MY BLOCK. I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO YOU!
He excelled in a few places. He was the brightest in his school. He was overly involved in his church and held a major national position in the Boy Scouts of America. To add on to that, he was a senior in high school, and beginning to face the biggest decision of his life: college. It was a avenue that would not be open to him without many hours of work, simply because his family was relying on him to get a NUMBER of scholarships to afford college.
Needless to say, he was under a lot of pressure.
However, one day, while walking though a small forest near his house, the boy stumbled across something he had never seen before. It was a hole, hidden between the roots of a crooked tree. The hole wasn't small by any means; he could easily fit himself inside the opening. He figured it was some kind of animal, like a badger or family of rabbits. Whatever it was, it was deep. The sun was almost directly overhead, shining straight into the hole, and he couldn't see the bottom. The boy reached his hand as far in as his arm would allow, to see if the tunnel turned or got narrow, but it just seemed to go on forever. Already getting bored, he retracted his arm, but not before brushing up on what felt like a sheet of paper stuffed in the roots at the opening. The boy grabbed the corner and dislodged it, discovering a small envelope with the words To Whom it May Concern scrawled in sloppy handwriting on the front. By the look of the envelope, it had been there for quite some time. No doubt the person it was meant for never found it in the roots. Becoming intrigued, he opened it.
Inside he found two sheets of paper folded neatly, a small slip of paper, and a pen. The boy pulled the sheets apart to see both sides of each sheet covered in the same sloppy writing envelope from the envelope. He began to turn back to the front, then changed his mind. Wanting to see who wrote it, the boy flipped to the back of the second page and his eyes jumped to the bottom.
Be cautious,
Anthony Maxwell
The boy gasped and dropped the page in shock, not even noticing that the dropped page was falling deeper and deeper into the hole, until it was completely out of sight.
Anthony Maxwell was a former student at the school that the boy attended. However, Anthony had something wrong with him. He was an orphan, but always rambled about his parents, saying they were just going to come back. His grades were horrendous, always had been, and he seemed none too interested in improving them. Honestly, he seemed to have no interest in improving ANYTHING in the world, and claimed he wouldn't until his parents came back.
Then he just vanished one day. No one knew where he went. The search began, but was declared cold a year later when no headway was made. Soon everyone, including the boy, forgot about him. It was a terrible story.
But this letter could help! It might have been the one clue that they needed to find him! The boy looked down at the first sheet and eagerly began reading.
To Whom it May Concern,
It is doubtful you know who I am, but my name is Anthony Maxwell. If you have found this, then I have no doubts you have found the Rabbit Hole as well. This isn't any normal hole. I don't totally understand it, but this is the extent of my knowledge.
I'm sure you have sources of stress in your life. Everyone does. I'm also sure that you've tried to rid yourself of that stress in a number of ways. No doubt most of them have failed.
The Rabbit Hole offers a foolproof way to escape specific sources of stress. Allow me to explain, because I'm sure you're skeptical. Take a slip of paper (I have included one and a pen in the envelope) and write a minor source of stress in your life (ex. "overdue homework"). Drop the slip into the Hole. Only ONE slip. Then go home and sleep through the night. Tomorrow, go and talk to your teacher about the overdue homework and try and explain yourself. If something seems off, then flip this page over. Until then, DO NOT KEEP READING.
The boy scoffed. This was rubbish, obviously some stupid ruse to learn people's problems. Still, he was interested in disproving the letter, so he grabbed the pen and wrote "traffic tickets" on it with the pen (he had just gotten a two hundred dollar ticket the past week and neglected to inform anyone of it yet. His copy of it was still sitting in his wallet, in a zipped up pocket with other recent receipts). He dropped the slip into the opening and watched it flutter away. He was laughing, thinking just how stupid he was to try this. The boy slid the letter back into the envelope and stuffed it back in the roots. When nothing happened the next day, he wanted to come back and laugh at the stupidity of Anthony Maxwell. He stood and turned, leaving the hole behind him, and returned to his simple life, with Anthony on his mind, wondering what exactly had happened to him.
MAJOR THANKS TO AARON KOEHNE FOR HELPING ME BREAK MY BLOCK. I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO YOU!
Starting a series!
I've decided that writing short poems and stories are starting to bore me slightly, and want to show that I am more versatile with my writing style, so I'm going to start a small series called "The Boy and The Rabbit Hole." I really hope that you enjoy it and would love to hear feedback from everyone as the story progresses. Thanks everyone! But a major thanks to Aaron Koehne for giving me the advice that broke my writer's block. This story is dedicated to you Aaron!
R. R. Barrett
R. R. Barrett
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Art of Road Trips in the Rain
Here for
a moment,
Then gone
when eyes are opened,
I can’t
help but feel a pang of sorrow
Knowing
I won’t ever see that landscape again.
I won’t
ever be back in a place
Where
EVERYTHING was perfectly untouched
Next
time I return, if ever,
So much
will have changed.
Trees will have grown.
Grass
will have died.
Leaves
will have fallen.
Life will
have continued.
But
if I had tumbled out of my shelter
And run
off to explore,
Would
I have grown old with it?
Could
I escape the ferocity of a concrete jungle?
Yet
even now I know that I cannot.
There
is too much to do,
Too many
to leave behind,
Too much
lost.
Even
with that thought,
My sorrow
returns.
There
is nothing preventing me from leaving,
Yet so
much holds me back.
A
seat belt, yes,
But
my mind finds family,
A place
where everyone loves you.
This can’t
be found out there.
So I sit
back and sigh,
And turn
to gaze at the leather in front of me.
Still
I can’t help but look out
And sorrow
turns to envy.
How I
long to travel out into that landscape.
How I
want to escape my invisible bonds.
How I
wish the water pouring down
Would
wash me into the unknown.
To
explore, to grow old,
To escape,
to be reborn.
So I dream
of escaping the pavement
And getting
swallowed by a landscape.
Being
lost in the green.
Running
until I vanish into the rainstorm.
Why,
oh why,
Can I
not escape?
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Thanks
In response to "Apologies,"
I felt this was almost required.
Because for every apology,
there are plenty of people that I haven't ever thanked.
Many overlap.
It's going to be another ongoing list,
so if "Apologies" wasn't your cup of tea,
keep moving.
But this is just as important,
and I already know that at least one is about you.
To those who told me I couldn't do it,
you pushed me to be the person that I am today.
Every insult, ever demeaning remark, ever pull down
just pushed me further into my future.
Thank you.
To those who told me I could do it,
you helped me get back up when I fell flat.
You challenged me to surpass what I had already done,
even when I didn't think I could do it.
Thank you.
To those who stuck by me during rough times,
you were an amazing friend, and I couldn't ask for more.
All I can hope is that I have the ability to repay you
if the time comes.
Thank you.
To those who inspired me,
you mean more to me that you realize.
The things you do and tell me have helped me through
the hardest times in my life.
Thank you.
To those who made my heart jump,
you know who you are.
You made me realize that the world isn't full of vile people
and even as a teenager, happiness can be found.
Thank you.
To those who ripped my heart apart,
it might sound weird that I'm thanking you,
but each heart break proved to me that
I don't have to rely on another person to be happy.
Thank you.
To those who taught me,
I try to take everything that I learn and use it
in some form or fashion.
Every situation is a learning situation.
Thank you.
To those who gave me another chance,
God knows that I have had some rocky friendships,
and I am more grateful then you know for
the chance to redeem myself.
Thank you.
To those who tormented me in middle school,
you don't realize how much you changed me.
I'm stronger know then I ever could have been,
simply because you threw all that petty drama my way.
Thank you.
To those who insult me,
you help me realize my faults,
and I strive to change them.
Even though you deliver them in a slightly rude way, life isn't ever pretty.
Thank you.
To those who read my writing,
the fact that you keep coming back for more
does so much that you can't comprehend the magnitude
of importance you have to me.
Thank you.
To those who I call fellow thespians,
I probably thank you most of all.
Some of my best moments have happened amongst theatre kids,
and all of you mean so much to me that I can't ever fully express it.
Thank you.
To those who I call fellow Boy Scouts,
the skills that you have taught me far exceed fire building and how to use a knife.
Scouting has opened tons of doors for me,
and if I worked for forever and a day, I couldn't ever repay you.
Thank you.
To those who I have met through my church,
you are the chain that keeps me from falling into the endless pit of high school drama.
From choir to youth and everywhere in between,
you have pulled me off the edge.
Thank you.
To my sister,
the fact that you get your own entire stanza should say enough,
but I'm going to break the template just for you.
You fit into almost every category above.
You love me when no one else does.
You help me when no one else can.
You pull me up when everyone else shoots me down.
You laugh with me when everyone else laughs at me.
You laugh at me when I need to laugh at myself.
You taught me that country is the best genre of music.
You inspire me to reach for greater heights.
You calm me down when I'm about to explode.
You are the best sibling one could ask for, and most certainly not the one that I deserve.
You won't ever let me make up all the things that you did for me, because you love me too much.
You are the best thing that I have in my life.
You are my best friend.
Thank you.
As I said, it's not going to stop here.
"Apologies" and "Thanks" will keep growing.
If you know what you did to me,
you know which ones apply to you.
There's only one thing left to say.
Thank you.
I felt this was almost required.
Because for every apology,
there are plenty of people that I haven't ever thanked.
Many overlap.
It's going to be another ongoing list,
so if "Apologies" wasn't your cup of tea,
keep moving.
But this is just as important,
and I already know that at least one is about you.
To those who told me I couldn't do it,
you pushed me to be the person that I am today.
Every insult, ever demeaning remark, ever pull down
just pushed me further into my future.
Thank you.
To those who told me I could do it,
you helped me get back up when I fell flat.
You challenged me to surpass what I had already done,
even when I didn't think I could do it.
Thank you.
To those who stuck by me during rough times,
you were an amazing friend, and I couldn't ask for more.
All I can hope is that I have the ability to repay you
if the time comes.
Thank you.
To those who inspired me,
you mean more to me that you realize.
The things you do and tell me have helped me through
the hardest times in my life.
Thank you.
To those who made my heart jump,
you know who you are.
You made me realize that the world isn't full of vile people
and even as a teenager, happiness can be found.
Thank you.
To those who ripped my heart apart,
it might sound weird that I'm thanking you,
but each heart break proved to me that
I don't have to rely on another person to be happy.
Thank you.
To those who taught me,
I try to take everything that I learn and use it
in some form or fashion.
Every situation is a learning situation.
Thank you.
To those who gave me another chance,
God knows that I have had some rocky friendships,
and I am more grateful then you know for
the chance to redeem myself.
Thank you.
To those who tormented me in middle school,
you don't realize how much you changed me.
I'm stronger know then I ever could have been,
simply because you threw all that petty drama my way.
Thank you.
To those who insult me,
you help me realize my faults,
and I strive to change them.
Even though you deliver them in a slightly rude way, life isn't ever pretty.
Thank you.
To those who read my writing,
the fact that you keep coming back for more
does so much that you can't comprehend the magnitude
of importance you have to me.
Thank you.
To those who I call fellow thespians,
I probably thank you most of all.
Some of my best moments have happened amongst theatre kids,
and all of you mean so much to me that I can't ever fully express it.
Thank you.
To those who I call fellow Boy Scouts,
the skills that you have taught me far exceed fire building and how to use a knife.
Scouting has opened tons of doors for me,
and if I worked for forever and a day, I couldn't ever repay you.
Thank you.
To those who I have met through my church,
you are the chain that keeps me from falling into the endless pit of high school drama.
From choir to youth and everywhere in between,
you have pulled me off the edge.
Thank you.
To my sister,
the fact that you get your own entire stanza should say enough,
but I'm going to break the template just for you.
You fit into almost every category above.
You love me when no one else does.
You help me when no one else can.
You pull me up when everyone else shoots me down.
You laugh with me when everyone else laughs at me.
You laugh at me when I need to laugh at myself.
You taught me that country is the best genre of music.
You inspire me to reach for greater heights.
You calm me down when I'm about to explode.
You are the best sibling one could ask for, and most certainly not the one that I deserve.
You won't ever let me make up all the things that you did for me, because you love me too much.
You are the best thing that I have in my life.
You are my best friend.
Thank you.
As I said, it's not going to stop here.
"Apologies" and "Thanks" will keep growing.
If you know what you did to me,
you know which ones apply to you.
There's only one thing left to say.
Thank you.
Apologies
I would like to apologize.
To you.
And you.
Even you.
It's been very long overdue.
I am not perfect,
I won't even pretend that I am.
However, if any of my countless flaws
have ever caused you any pain,
I am truly sorry.
If you read this, you might just think,
"Oh look, he's hiding behind his blog,
he doesn't have the decency to apologize to my face."
The fact is, there are too many faces I would have to approach,
and too many people that would just laugh right back in mine.
So I'm just going to throw my apologies
into my ward.
If one of them seems to be pointed towards you,
it's probably meant for you.
Just read them all, I'm sure one relates to you.
I'm sorry for judging you.
I jumped to conclusions about you
when I only had one side of the story,
if that.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry I distanced myself from you.
I was going through a really rough time,
and I thought that i could do it alone.
I couldn't.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for lying to you.
The truth is so hard for me to face sometimes,
and I thought that lying would make it easier.
I guess that isn't so true, since I have to keep living a lie.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for disrespecting you.
You were just trying to help,
and I couldn't get past my ego
to accept your help.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for insulting you.
Truth is, I admire your qualities,
and I even admit to being jealous of you.
The insults just seemed easier to live with.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for holding a grudge against you.
Even this long after what happened,
I still can't find it within myself to repair our friendship.
But I can't stand living with this grudge.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for clinging.
You had done something to me that I wasn't used to,
and I couldn't help but want more,
even though it was obvious you didn't.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for taking advantage of you.
I was vulnerable, but you were more so.
I wanted to feel better, and felt like you could do that to me.
I just hurt each of us even more.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for leading you on.
This might seem a lot like taking advantage, but it's worse.
I played with your emotions, simply because I didn't understand mine.
It was terrible, and I still feel horrible because of it.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for demanding you change.
Not to steal song lyrics, but you're perfect the way you are.
I couldn't look past my own personal opinions to see how
the real you is light years better then I will ever be.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for overstepping my bounds.
What I did was rude and selfish,
and I know that you know I was just trying to protect you,
but it was not something that a real friend would do.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for that conversation.
I shouldn't have ever pressed "Send" on that text,
because even though you said it would be alright,
I already know that our friendship won't be the same anymore.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for doubting you.
After everything that I told you and you helped me through,
I didn't believe you in your darkest hour.
It was really inexcusable.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for keeping the truth from you.
It isn't lying, simply because I never said anything constituting a lie.
But you spilled yourself out to me,
and I couldn't do the same to you.
Please forgive me.
This list won't stop here.
I will mess up again.
And when I can't face you because of how bad I made it,
expect to see an apology here waiting for you.
Please accept it.
To you.
And you.
Even you.
It's been very long overdue.
I am not perfect,
I won't even pretend that I am.
However, if any of my countless flaws
have ever caused you any pain,
I am truly sorry.
If you read this, you might just think,
"Oh look, he's hiding behind his blog,
he doesn't have the decency to apologize to my face."
The fact is, there are too many faces I would have to approach,
and too many people that would just laugh right back in mine.
So I'm just going to throw my apologies
into my ward.
If one of them seems to be pointed towards you,
it's probably meant for you.
Just read them all, I'm sure one relates to you.
I'm sorry for judging you.
I jumped to conclusions about you
when I only had one side of the story,
if that.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry I distanced myself from you.
I was going through a really rough time,
and I thought that i could do it alone.
I couldn't.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for lying to you.
The truth is so hard for me to face sometimes,
and I thought that lying would make it easier.
I guess that isn't so true, since I have to keep living a lie.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for disrespecting you.
You were just trying to help,
and I couldn't get past my ego
to accept your help.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for insulting you.
Truth is, I admire your qualities,
and I even admit to being jealous of you.
The insults just seemed easier to live with.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for holding a grudge against you.
Even this long after what happened,
I still can't find it within myself to repair our friendship.
But I can't stand living with this grudge.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for clinging.
You had done something to me that I wasn't used to,
and I couldn't help but want more,
even though it was obvious you didn't.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for taking advantage of you.
I was vulnerable, but you were more so.
I wanted to feel better, and felt like you could do that to me.
I just hurt each of us even more.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for leading you on.
This might seem a lot like taking advantage, but it's worse.
I played with your emotions, simply because I didn't understand mine.
It was terrible, and I still feel horrible because of it.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for demanding you change.
Not to steal song lyrics, but you're perfect the way you are.
I couldn't look past my own personal opinions to see how
the real you is light years better then I will ever be.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for overstepping my bounds.
What I did was rude and selfish,
and I know that you know I was just trying to protect you,
but it was not something that a real friend would do.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for that conversation.
I shouldn't have ever pressed "Send" on that text,
because even though you said it would be alright,
I already know that our friendship won't be the same anymore.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for doubting you.
After everything that I told you and you helped me through,
I didn't believe you in your darkest hour.
It was really inexcusable.
Please forgive me.
I'm sorry for keeping the truth from you.
It isn't lying, simply because I never said anything constituting a lie.
But you spilled yourself out to me,
and I couldn't do the same to you.
Please forgive me.
This list won't stop here.
I will mess up again.
And when I can't face you because of how bad I made it,
expect to see an apology here waiting for you.
Please accept it.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Yourself
Every student in high school wishes one thing,
to fit in.
When that can't be done...
What is one to do with their life?
It's almost torture having to keep putting on a mask every time
you walk onto campus,
then take it off later
if you can.
Slowly, those masks take over your whole life
and the person that you truly are
is forced into a shell that gets tossed
into the sea of high school terror.
When you find that person
that makes you stop and think about taking the masks off,
you jump at an opportunity to be yourself again.
But it falls short.
Shut down.
Forced away.
Re-masked.
Forgotten.
What ever happened to class?
Where have all the good friends gone?
What ever happened to good morals?
We all need our heroes.
But how do we separate the heroes from the villains?
Eventually everyone goes.
When it comes down to it, the only person you can trust is
yourself.
But is it you that you're trusting?
Or is it your mask?
Maybe fitting in
isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
I would rather stand out
then wear a mask any day.
But it's too late.
I'm lost.
I am not myself.
Your are not yourself.
As much as you hate to admit it,
we are all just masks in the freak show of life.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
As The Rain Falls
*A little background information, this piece was an indirect assignment from one of my favortie authors, Stephen King. He outlines all the information in his book On Writing. If you are interested in it, I'm sure the challenge is somewhere on Google. Just look up "stephen king dick and jane challenge."
Rain is one of nature’s great mysteries. How can something as simple as falling water be able to invoke memories of situations long forgotten? How can dihydrogen monoxide affected by gravity send someone not just into their past, but into a world of their own creation? A world where one cannot be harmed. A world where it is just a single person, their thoughts, and the rain. A world where one escapes commitments and problems, happiness and sadness. Joy and fear.
Except no one can escape fear.
Fear. What a world it is to be able to live without fear! I cannot even begin to explain how life has changed, now that Nell and I don’t need to worry about the fear that plagued us every day when we walked in the door. Two years ago. Two years ago today, we escaped that beast, that SHELL of a woman that used to be my wife, her mother.
We escaped fear.
Except no one can escape fear.
Little Nell hasn’t even mentioned her mother. She is so young…I am thankful for the mind blocking out those things that it knows are bad. Nell was fearful, so very fearful. But then it changed. She escaped it
Except no one can escape fear
and kept living her life right away. I haven’t been so fortunate. I still make sure that no one is anywhere in the house before I leave and right when I get home. I still have the gun hidden under the floorboard that Jane and I ripped up to hide our belongings when we left town. The “decorative” samurai sword still hangs over the fireplace. For whatever reason, I just can’t let go of them. The terror I outran would find me. I would again be held by fear.
Except no one can escape fear.
Sitting here, looking out the window, I know now that I did the right thing. Jane needed help. Something was wrong with her, and I couldn’t do anything to save her. The hospital is working to fix it, whatever “it” is. Jane is safe, she will be cured. Maybe she can come home soon. Maybe we can all go picnicking as a family again, with Nell and her dolls, and Jane spraying on the lavender perfume she loved so much. Maybe she won’t be so disturbed, so abusive, so…paranoid.
But I know that can’t happen. It’s just the rain playing tricks on me. Jane can never come home. The hospital can’t make her better. She is a mental patient, patient number 112358-F, and she will be until the day she dies. She can’t ever leave the hospital. She can’t ever escape her fear. She can’t ever be like me and Nell.
Except no one can escape fear.
It’s just the rain. A silent storm. Drop after drop hits the window, no thunder to be heard, no lighting to be seen. Nell calls storms like this “Angel tears,” because the angels are sad about what is happening on Earth, but they don’t want God to hear them crying. Sweet Nell… I’m sure she would love to be right where I am now instead of upstairs taking her nap. That was something that Jane was always good at, putting Nell down for her nap. It’s still a fight to get her to sleep. Luckily, once she’s down, she’s out for the count. Even if the angels were screaming, not crying; even if thunder rolled and lightning crashed, she still wouldn’t be waking up. Nell always sleeps through her naptime, and through the night. I wake up every now and then looking at the empty spot next to me on the bed. I wonder if I did the right thing with Jane, condemning her. Then I remember the fear that Nell and I lived with, and how happy we are without
Except no one can escape fear.
her in our lives. What a world…
I actually thought about this a lot last week. I saw in the paper that a mental hospital burned down in a freak accident. Of course the first thing that I thought of was Jane. It wasn’t her hospital that burned down of course, she was in New York. There is more than one mental hospital in New York, of course it wasn’t hers. I almost went to see her after I saw the news, but it’s late November in Maine, and I don’t want to worry about foul weather. So I stayed. I called a few times, but always got a busy tone. Probably other panicking relatives.
I fixed myself a pot of coffee, and went to sit on our covered porch. The storm was starting to pick up a bit, now there was quite a bit of wind to accompany the rain. For whatever reason, I like sitting outside when it gets windy. I guess I’m hoping that the wind will carry me away from all my problems, my future. My past. Especially my past. One thing is certain; the wind definitely carried me away from my fear.
Except no one can escape fear.
The wind and rain made for a calming sound, and I watched all the raindrops fall into our pool and send small ripples out. Drop, ripple. Drop, ripple. Drop, ripple. Drop…ripple… Drop…
A crash woke me up an hour later, making me spill my now lukewarm coffee all over my lap. The wind, which had really picked up, had blown the front door open, and as I ran to close it, I saw that the same thing had happened to many other houses down the street. I shut and locked the door, then turned to go up the stairs and check on Nell and change. But as I approached the landing, a smell hit my nose that was all too familiar. Memories flooded back to me, good ones and bad ones and memories that even the rain could not wash the dirt off of. Memories of picnics and dolls and fancy perfume.
At the top of the stairs, looking into Nell’s bedroom, spraying on that damn lavender perfume was Jane. She sent a playful wave in my direction, then pressed a single finger to her pale, chapped lips, and walked into the room. I sprinted up the stairs, suppressing the urge to shout out her to get the hell out of my house, and before I knew it I was in Nell’s doorway. Jane was sitting on the bed, watching Nell sleep with the bottle of perfume on the ground by her feet. In her right hand, she caressed the gun from under the floorboard. In her left, the sword from the wall lay flat against Nell’s stomach. Her hair was flat against her face, soaked by the rain, and an old, dirty, ripped smock was plastered onto a body obviously suffering from malnutrition.
“She grew up so fast. Two years and she already looks like a young woman. Hello Dick, how ya been?” Jane whispered this as she ran the sword up and down poor sleeping Nell’s body.
“Jane, get the hell away from my daughter.”
She laughed. “YOUR daughter? Why not OUR daughter?”
“You lost your claim to her the first time you slapped her. Get the sword away from her, point the gun elsewhere. Just leave her alone.”
“Point it elsewhere? If that’s what you want.” She slowly lifted the gun and pointed it directly at me, the sword then following. Her arm was steady as the heavy samurai weapon became parallel with the floor. “Let’s talk. Downstairs.” Jane began walking towards me and to avoid the point of the honorable blade, I was forced to walk backwards, down the stairs and out onto the patio.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of hers. “How did you get out?”
“We all did our own laundry. Two years of smuggling bleach and one match made it pretty easy. I’m sure you saw ‘Mental Hospital burns in Freak Accident: No Survivors.”
“You’re insane.”
“Dick, you abandoned me! I loved you so much and you shut me up in that godforsaken place. Why did you do that Dick? Why?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “You didn’t love us. You TORMENTED us! The last few years I tried to save you, but I ended up LOATHING you, not loving you.”
“But you knew something was wrong. The doctors from hell told you I had something wrong in the head. But they were wrong. I knew what I was doing, and I know what I’m going to do.”
“Jane, you’re disturbed. Get out, or I will call the police.”
“Go ahead! I already called them! Someone is going to need to clean up the mess that you caused.”
“There hasn’t been a mess since you left and we finally started living a life that we enjoyed, and life with happiness, and without fear.”
“Oh Richard… What a true sentence. Except no one can escape fear. You should know that. Well, I restate that. No one LIVING can escape fear. You want to escape it? I will be more than happy to oblige. I’m taking my daughter back. Good-bye Dick. Escape your fear.” With that, Jane lowered the gun and leveled two shots into my chest. I couldn’t feel them, but I knew they hit, because I saw the world falling down as I collapsed on the floor. I saw Jane drop the gun. I heard a small voice cry out “Daddy?” And everything slowed down.
Jane spun around, swinging the samurai sword at the source of the noise that had violated her ritual. I saw the sword fly back in the air, crimson drops scattering off the front of the sword, and watched Nell’s body drop to the floor, her head rolling up against the opposite wall. I heard Jane scream and heard the clatter of the sword against the cobblestone floor. I saw her run, and run into the arms of one of the three policemen at the front of the patio. I heard the police calling for back up. Then I heard Nell’s laughter, she was calling to me. Singing, over and over again.
No more fear Daddy! No more fear! We escaped fear! No more fear Daddy! Come picnic with me, come play with my dollies! Come on daddy, we can make angel tears now, let’s make angel tears. Don’t let God hear you, he might get upset! Let’s cry on Mommy, let’s cry just for her!
Angel tears…Let them fall. As the rain falls, let the tears of the angels fall onto Jane.
Of course, Nell. Let’s go make angel tears for Mommy.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
A Proud Race
We are a nocturnal race.
Sun is a mystery to us, simply because it is gone
when we enter the world.
We conduct internal genocide.
Each would gladly slaughter another
just to take their place.
We are slaves to society.
We work in the shadows of our sweatshop
unknown to the outside world.
We get minimal recognition,
as all our work goes into an
instance of use.
Yet we endure the pain
because it is all we know.
It is all we wish to be.
It is what we love.
And those instances, each one,
holds nothing compared to what was
put into the work.
Yes, we suffer for a lifetime.
But each "Yes", each "Good Job",
each standing ovation,
That makes us who we are.
A proud race.
Sun is a mystery to us, simply because it is gone
when we enter the world.
We conduct internal genocide.
Each would gladly slaughter another
just to take their place.
We are slaves to society.
We work in the shadows of our sweatshop
unknown to the outside world.
We get minimal recognition,
as all our work goes into an
instance of use.
Yet we endure the pain
because it is all we know.
It is all we wish to be.
It is what we love.
And those instances, each one,
holds nothing compared to what was
put into the work.
Yes, we suffer for a lifetime.
But each "Yes", each "Good Job",
each standing ovation,
That makes us who we are.
A proud race.
Family
The glittering shine
of a flame-wrapped cross
moves me in ways unknown to others.
Bestowed upon me on the day
that the Holy Spirit took up roost
in my soul,
it has not left me since.
Through plains and cities and mountains and oceans
this cross has pulled me through.
But when the Spirit takes its home away
what shall become of the cross?
Should it lay forever with me?
Or should it meet a new neck
and share a new soul
and see new places?
Will I feel whole if it is removed?
Perhaps that will be my legacy, in some far off future,
"Who will get grandfather's cross?"
of a flame-wrapped cross
moves me in ways unknown to others.
Bestowed upon me on the day
that the Holy Spirit took up roost
in my soul,
it has not left me since.
Through plains and cities and mountains and oceans
this cross has pulled me through.
But when the Spirit takes its home away
what shall become of the cross?
Should it lay forever with me?
Or should it meet a new neck
and share a new soul
and see new places?
Will I feel whole if it is removed?
Perhaps that will be my legacy, in some far off future,
"Who will get grandfather's cross?"
Blade
Each one bending in an oh-so-slight breeze,
the pure essence of "no control,"
more numerous than any water drop in a lake
for a lake can be drained.
These blades will never die.
They creep over everything
and leave nothing untouched.
Yet even in mass numbers,
numbers that envelop and destroy
any environment they want to control,
each one is unique.
None stand the same height
or emit the same tone.
Each moves in a way
no others can mimic.
But each blade is acknowledged
by no one.
Each blade will be remembered
by no one.
For as soon as the unlucky ones fade away,
a fresher, younger, stronger blade shoots up,
and the carcass is forgotten.
the pure essence of "no control,"
more numerous than any water drop in a lake
for a lake can be drained.
These blades will never die.
They creep over everything
and leave nothing untouched.
Yet even in mass numbers,
numbers that envelop and destroy
any environment they want to control,
each one is unique.
None stand the same height
or emit the same tone.
Each moves in a way
no others can mimic.
But each blade is acknowledged
by no one.
Each blade will be remembered
by no one.
For as soon as the unlucky ones fade away,
a fresher, younger, stronger blade shoots up,
and the carcass is forgotten.
Dust in the Rain
Each drop of water and grain of dust
contains a memory, if not many.
But combining the two means wonders
to a camper.
Dusty rain brings back the wettest camps
and memorable outings.
Wet sands reminds of forgotten trails
and dirty tents.
That scent revels soggy meals
and worthless wash lines.
But I wouldn't trade a single memory
no camp, trail, or meal.
I wouldn't take a sunny, green day
over those perfect, dusty storms.
contains a memory, if not many.
But combining the two means wonders
to a camper.
Dusty rain brings back the wettest camps
and memorable outings.
Wet sands reminds of forgotten trails
and dirty tents.
That scent revels soggy meals
and worthless wash lines.
But I wouldn't trade a single memory
no camp, trail, or meal.
I wouldn't take a sunny, green day
over those perfect, dusty storms.
On Writing
With humility I place that scalpel
onto the tight skin of an unfeeling subject
and drag so that first line of black blood
appears.
I enter a world unknown
and learn the story of the subject.
A swollen stomach for greed,
A crushed heart from pain,
A personal history just waiting to be discovered.
Yet I know that I can't stay long.
Every subject must be closed,
not matter how much we want to explore.
So with the same scalpel, my only tool,
I sew up the subject and send him away.
He will still be there tomorrow,
and the following day
and every day after.
He sits in a green-walled ward,
subjects recovering to his right,
subjects waiting to his left.
And where am I?
I am here, telling their stories.
I am there, still searching each subject.
I am with them, and they are with me.
Always.
onto the tight skin of an unfeeling subject
and drag so that first line of black blood
appears.
I enter a world unknown
and learn the story of the subject.
A swollen stomach for greed,
A crushed heart from pain,
A personal history just waiting to be discovered.
Yet I know that I can't stay long.
Every subject must be closed,
not matter how much we want to explore.
So with the same scalpel, my only tool,
I sew up the subject and send him away.
He will still be there tomorrow,
and the following day
and every day after.
He sits in a green-walled ward,
subjects recovering to his right,
subjects waiting to his left.
And where am I?
I am here, telling their stories.
I am there, still searching each subject.
I am with them, and they are with me.
Always.
Gray
I have been called neutral
I have been called dull
I have been called bland
but you are wrong.
Is a wisp of smoke,
traversing untold miles
through frozen caves
and windswept plains
dull?
Is the muffled silence
of some far off tornado
destroying everything in its way
neutral?
Is a stone rubbed smooth
by ever-attacking waves
off a New England shore
bland?
No.
I am power,
I am mystery.
And when my master
pulls you through his veil,
I will swoop in
and take you away.
I have been called dull
I have been called bland
but you are wrong.
Is a wisp of smoke,
traversing untold miles
through frozen caves
and windswept plains
dull?
Is the muffled silence
of some far off tornado
destroying everything in its way
neutral?
Is a stone rubbed smooth
by ever-attacking waves
off a New England shore
bland?
No.
I am power,
I am mystery.
And when my master
pulls you through his veil,
I will swoop in
and take you away.
Theatre
A black empty box encompassed by maroon walls, blocked in by that invisible, yet ever present fourth wall. THIS is my every day. The shoe skids and Masonite creaks make up what can only be described as a second home. Each individual seat, from 101A to 310U makes up my day. The stage, filled with scars from past shows, sends memories back in floods, attacking me with ghostly laughter and forgotten blocking. The floor, so scuffed and beaten, still stands strong, for it knows what it supports.
The blinding, comforting glare of countless lights shines down upon you, and you know YOUR sun has rise, and it's brighter than all others. Then hanging curtains envelop your home, and float down with a serene grace. The cage shifts and cracks under the gusts of air from vents, air that always is too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. But we don't care
This is our home. We rule, we live, we laugh, we cry in a space that only we can fill. Ever familiar, a peace falls upon us, for this is our home, our arena, our temple.
Our stage.
The blinding, comforting glare of countless lights shines down upon you, and you know YOUR sun has rise, and it's brighter than all others. Then hanging curtains envelop your home, and float down with a serene grace. The cage shifts and cracks under the gusts of air from vents, air that always is too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. But we don't care
This is our home. We rule, we live, we laugh, we cry in a space that only we can fill. Ever familiar, a peace falls upon us, for this is our home, our arena, our temple.
Our stage.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)