Here I will be discussing the aspects of growing old, living young, and being the person you want to become. Also, as life is to be enjoyed, I will be including some short stories for your entertainment. Entries will be tagged Fiction and Non-Fiction for your convenience. If you only want fiction, click the button below, and the same goes for non-fiction. I hope you will enjoy my writing style and voice. Stay tuned, as I will also announce when I complete my books.

Friday, September 28, 2018

The Legend of Atmos: The Somerthian Scouts

“Orpheus J. Barcus was born on the planet Somerth. The Somerthians, as they were called, lived a long life of nearly 800 years and prospered from their many connections around the galaxy. Somerthians were explorers, inventors and investigators, commonly known as scouts. It was a custom on Somerth to enroll your child in scout training when they turned 100 years old. Although young in his training, Orpheus’ interest in space travel and exploration was naturally increasing; many planets were yet to be discovered and each year a class of new recruits would venture into the galaxy to find new worlds and trade partners.”

The first day of class was nearly over and the instructor was sharing a slideshow of the Somerthians’ most treasured discovery. The young scouts stared in awe as images of oceans, trees and animals of every kind flashed before their eyes. Recordings of a world covered with bountiful lands planted a seed of exploration in their hearts.

“Scouts, the objective of your training is not to simply discover new worlds, it is to cure worlds that have been broken and destroyed by its inhabitants. We are Somerthians. We are protectors of the universe,” the instructor said as he continued his lecture.

“Mr. Frost, what world are you showing us?” inquired Orpheus.

“It is a world that was once beautiful,” answered Mr. Frost. “You see, scouts, thousands of years ago many of your ancestors believed that in the universe there was a planet built out of massive landforms with hundreds of types of plants and seeds. At the time, Somerth was short in water, and our comet catcher was not yet invented. Lifetimes passed and no one could find this planet. Then, finally, it was discovered by the great Marlo Herzog. The world was closely watched and its resources were held captive by its inhabitants. Each year we send the top graduating scouts to scan this planet.”

The class silently stared, urging the instructor to continue. The slides changed, displaying a war-torn land, and the tremoring sounds of explosions and destruction filled the room.

“As you may know, we haven’t touched ground on this planet in a few milenia, as it was destroyed by a great war. The planet’s resources were spoiled and its atmosphere ruined.”

“Mr. Frost?” a young scout raised his hand. “Why are you showing us this place?”

“Well,” he peered around another student’s head to read a name tag, “Desnan, is it?” The boy nodded. “It is important that you all understand the first principles of serving the universe.”

As Mr. Frost pushed a button on his remote, the rules appeared on the board and he read each of them.

  1. Never interfere with the natural cycle of a planet’s inhabitants.  
  2. Never be seen unless invited to be seen. Many planets have a good relationship with Somerth but for most it is better that they do not know of our existence. 
  3. Never explore with the intent to invade. Our assignment is to protect and serve, not destroy. 

“As Somerthians we believe in exploring new galactic entities and creating trade with other planets in the universe. You will be tested on these principles. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Frost,” the class confirmed.

“Mr. Frost, what is the planet called?” Orpheus anxiously inquired.

“Oh yes, where was I? As you can see by these recent images, we monitor the levels of toxins in the air of this planet each Somerthian year. Since this process began, the world has become healthier and the atmosphere is showing good signs of improvement. Since time passes ten times as quickly there than here, by the end of your lifetime, you may be able to explore this planet yourselves. You’ll want to remember its name, as it is known in the universe, Atmos.”

“I want to be the greatest explorer Somerth has ever seen,” Orpheus whispered to himself.

The bell rang.

“Well scouts, the time has arrived for you to return home. Enjoy the rest of your day and until tomorrow…”

“Protect. Serve. Explore!” the scouts recited.

The scouts rushed out of class to tell their parents of all they learned.

“What do you think about Atmos?” Orpheus asked Desnan, his good friend.

“Sounds like an adventure worth taking to me. What about you?”

“I want to explore everywhere! Maybe one day we could live there!” Orpheus decided.

“That’s quite the dream Orpheus.” Desnan teased.

Orpheus and Desnan, hurried outside of to their bi-gliders. These scooter-like vehicles were invented by Orpheus’ father who was a chief amongst Somerthian scouts. He discovered hovering vehicles as a young explorer and used the technology from them to create single-rider, bi-gliders.

“Hey Orpheus, race you home?” challenged Desnan.

“To the center of Capital?” he invited.

Desnan nodded and zipped out into the street as Orpheus hurried to catch up.

“Cheater,” he mumbled to himself.

Somerth was home to many creatures and its inhabitants were known as Somerthians. They lived a peaceful life and were protected and led by their Prime Leader, whose palace overlooked the land from the center of Capital.

 “So now you have to cheat?” Orpheus yelled as he caught up with Desnan.

“Well, your model is much faster than mine, since your father designs these things! It’s only fair,” Desnan justified.

“Follow me. I’ve got an idea” Orpheus said.

The young boys raced around buildings and parks, and Desnan willingly followed Orpheus’ explorer spirit. They traveled north toward a wild, unnamed providence. This area was home to one of Somerth’s native creatures the Esox. Esox were small, bear-like animals that had large teeth, a round face and built their homes with the tall, wild grass. They reached the top of a large cliff. Orpheus reversed the generators on his bi-glider and got off.

Desnan was catching up at a high-rate of speed.

“Stop Desnan!” Orpheus yelled.

Desnan quickly reversed the generators and came to a halting stop. 

“Whoa. That was close,” Desnan pointed out.

“Were you day dreaming? If you hadn’t looked up when you did, you could have died!”

From their look-out point they could see most of the Capitol. All across the skyline were different prototypes of hovering homes. Orpheus’ dad had recently been assigned by the Prime Leader, Panndu Sendelli, to create homes that float in the sky. For many Somerthians, the idea of leaving the ground was very appealing. The prototypes were successful until the internal charging system began to become less effective. Overtime each of the failing generator models would lower the homes back to the ground.

Thursday, September 27, 2018


Chapter 1 
October 1, 2004: The New Attraction 

A large man in a black and orange striped suit with a skeleton mask materialized in front of the large castle-sized house. “Ladies and Gentlemen, good evening and welcome to the first annual opening of Dr. Thimbault’s Haunted House. As you may or may not know, this house was built in 1894 by Dr. Arthur Thimbault but was abandoned by his family during World War II. For nearly a hundred years, thousands of rumors have been spread concerning the truth behind what happened inside. We have spent months revitalizing this age-old mansion to create the most immersive haunting experience you’ll ever have. Inside you will find monsters, jump-scares, and fears beyond your darkest imagination.”

A slight applause came from the back of the crowd where some eager high school kids were waiting to get inside.

The skeleton man continued, “There are no live actors awaiting you within these ancient walls, for we have designed a state-of-the-art computer system that conjures the scares to your fears using holograms. We’ve built a smart haunted house! Nothing is as it appears. Even I am not really here."

With a sudden flash and jet of smoke the skeleton man vanished into thin air. A silence took over the crowd before it erupted in applause and cheers. It was the eve of October 1, 2004, when Dr. Thimbault’s Haunted House graced Boston Massachusetts with its nightmare inducing scares. Hundreds of people were waiting until six o’clock, the time the house would open itself to the public. In the crowd was a recently married couple, Steven and Ashely Harrold. Ashely’s palms were becoming sticky as she attempted to hide her nerves.

“You doing okay?" Steven said, noticing her nervousness.

“Yeah, I just can’t believe I let you talk me into going with you to this.”

“Don’t worry it’s going to be awesome!” he assured.

“Do you think Timothy is going to be okay at home?”

“Oh come on Ashley, he’s two years old and Bethany is the best fifteen year old babysitter this side of the Mississippi! Besides, we’re only going to be gone for like an hour.”

The crowd had already been shuffling into the massive house, and the Harrolds were almost to the door. Screaming and aching could be heard a few floors up, and even Steven began to feel his nerves twitch. When they reached the door, the house greeted them.

“Welcome to Dr. Thimbault’s Haunted House,” said the house with the eerie voice of the skeleton man. “Beware, beware of what’s inside, my scares will make you run and hide. Running will not get you far, for Dracon, Amethyst, Tuten, and Arthur will wait for you at every turn. Each floor they will watch, waiting to get you at the top. Once complete take the elevator down three floors and return to your homes. Have a good night.”

“I can’t do this,” Ashely insisted.

“Too late now, we have to keep going. We already paid for the tickets,” Steven said, a slight look of amusement in his face. “I can’t wait until the guys at the station hear about this place!”

Just before entering the house, a figure peered out from behind the curtains and gave a howling scream. The crowd jumped. It was a gruesome looking witch, who would be nicknamed Amethyst the Howler. The Harrolds stepped inside, Ashely gripping tightly to her husband’s red polo. The inside of Thimbault’s mansion was breath taking. The large foyer was gently connected to the second floor by two large stairwells, which other couples were climbing, holding onto each other for dear life. A sign in the foyer flickered with each strobe light flash. It read, “Choose a path, left or right, either room will take you to the next floor.”

Remembering that they had seen Amethyst peering out the window of the right side, they decided to go left. As they approached, the door automatically opened, screeching slightly. Steven was still smiling, finding Ashley’s fears more amusing than the possible hauntings within the left room. There was a loud bang and flash of light which caused Ashley to scream and squeeze Steven tighter. The room was filled with old furniture and cobwebs, and the objects appeared to be original.

“Holy Jeeez--” Steven whelped, grabbing his heart, as a mangy mummy appeared in one of the chairs. Tuten, the pharaoh, stood and began to approach them, scarabs climbing in and out of his limbs. Heavily breathing, the Harrolds ran out of the room and slammed the door behind them.

“Okay,” Steven admitted, trying to catch his breath, “They got me on that one.”

They crept through the next door, trying not to get noticed when the skeleton man’s dark voice boomed loudly above them, “Having fun yet?”

Ashely screamed so loud that she felt a slight tickle of pee escape her body. “I think I just peed a little,” she whispered to Steven, who was trying really hard not to laugh.

They finally reached the stairs, as Amethyst flew above them, around the massive foyer. “Only three more to go,” she cackled, referring to the amount of floors left.

“My bladder will never make it through this,” Ashley whispered.

Steven couldn’t hold in his laughter and spit slightly in an attempt to contain himself. On the second floor they were sure they were going to die. Amethyst kept appearing in front of them, zooming through walls, and rising from the floor. Her scream was so piercing that the Harrolds had to plug their ears. They entered into the last room on the second floor. The skeleton man was standing in the corner.

“So you’ve made it passed the second floor. Do you need a change of underwear yet?” Ashley blushed. “I’ve been watching you, and I don’t think you’re scared enough, Steven.” Steven gulped, unsure how the hologram knew his name. “Floor’s three and four will be programmed especially for you. I’ve scanned your mind and discovered exactly what makes you cringed,” the man faded away, his evil laugh echoing down the hall.

Steven became very nervous. The stairwell to the third floor was extra creaky and didn’t provide any sense of comfort for Steven’s impending doom. The third floor was very dark, and Steven already knew he was in trouble. Darkness was one of Steven’s greatest fears. “Can’t see, can you Steven?” groaned a voice in the darkness.

“Go away,” Steven screamed, gripping tighter to Ashley than she had ever gripped him.

The dark figure was tapping on a hard surface. It started to run toward them, dragging its rough nails across the surface, generating an awful screech.

Steven felt like he was about to lose it. He fell to the floor plugging his ears. Ashely began to panic as the creature came into the moonlight. It was Dracon, a six-foot tall vampire. Ashely didn’t know what to do. Dracon’s pale face highlighting the blood dripping from his sharp, pointed teeth appeared in the moonlit room. Ashely grabbed her husband’s shirt and began pulling him out of the room. Dracon zoomed closer then vanished, leaving a trail of purple smoke behind him.

“Run!” Ashely screamed, as her and her now sobbing husband went into the next room. “Are you okay?”

“Am I dead?” Steven wiped the tears from his eyes, gaining control of himself again. “I don’t know what came over me.” Ashely laughed a little, imagining a hug wet spot on the front of Steven’s khaki pants.”

“At least I didn’t pee myself,” he nudged, giving Ashely a smirk of enjoyment.

“Oh, shut it Steven, or I’ll tell the guys at the station that you cried like a girl.”

“Yeah,” he paused, realizing he’d been caught. “Please don’t tell them that. If they found out their best detective was afraid of a little haunted house, I’d never hear the end of it.”

The smart house computer must have registered that it had done a good job in scaring the bejesus out of Steven because the fourth floor wasn’t nearly as terrifying. There was blood and bodies all over the floor and occasionally a zombie chased them down the hall, throwing holographic limbs at them. The character was Arthur, named and designed after the appearance of Dr. Arthur Thimbault. The zombie was gaining on them when they reached the elevator, narrowly escaping his grasp.

The Harrrolds stood hyperventilating as the elevator crawled back to the first floor.

“Congratulations Steven,” The skeleton man began, an evil lure in his voice. “For a second there I didn’t think you’d make it out.”

Steven turned around and jumped, grabbing his heart again. The skeleton man had appeared in the glass mirror of the elevator.

“I have thoroughly enjoyed scaring you both this evening and hope to see you again soon. Next time, I will know exactly how to grab at your heart-strings. I have stored your fears in my hard drive and will patiently be awaiting your return,” he smirked. “Thank you for participating in the D.A.T.A. program. Please drive safely, so that I can haunt you again someday.”

The elevator doors opened and the Harrolds ran as fast as they could to their car. They sat silently the rest of the way home, not sure what they could say to lighten the mood.

“Ashely,” Steven nudged his wife, who had fallen asleep, “We’re home now.”

They relieved the babysitter and checked on Timothy, who was put down to sleep a few minutes before they arrived.

“What a night,” Steven suggested as they got to bed.

“Yeah, I never want to do that again. The whole idea that the computer can remember us and keep a record of our darkest fears is just too creepy for me.”

“Crazy what technology can do nowadays. Why can’t we think of anything like that?”

Ashely didn’t respond, she was already fast asleep. Steven sat up most of the night, slightly terrified and excited about the new attraction.

Chapter 2 
October 31, 2004: The Last Data  

“Hello?” Steven said, picking up his new cordless home phone.

“Harrold? It’s Chief Salenzie. We need you at the office right now.”

“But sir, it’s seven-thirty at night. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a case that we need you to look at right now.”

“All right, give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve got ten.”

Steven hung up the phone and walked up the stairs to let Ashely know. She was in Timothy’s room getting him ready for bed.

“Knock, knock,” Steven said as he walked into the room.

“Oh, look who it is Timmy; it’s Dad!” Little Timothy’s face always lit-up when he saw his dad.

Steven squeezed his little boy’s cheeks and kissed his wife of the forehead. “I’ve been called in to look at a case. Salenzie wants me there now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“It might be an all-nighter, so don’t stay up for too long. Love you.”

“Love you too, be safe,” Ashely gave him a longing expression. Steve had only been called in to work a few times this late at night, and it was never for a good reason.

Steven walked quickly down the stairs and outside to his undercover Crown Vic. He pulled the car out of the driveway and zipped down the street. There were ghosts and princesses wandering the streets carrying pillowcases full of candy they had been collecting all night. When Steven finally got to the station, all the lights were on, which for a normal night would have been odd but tonight was Halloween. Calls of kids throwing eggs at houses and other misdemeanors would flood the station tonight.

“Hey, Scott, you get called in too?” Steven joked to the first officer he saw.

“Yeah, it’s Halloween, and you won’t believe what has happened tonight.”

Steven made his way down to Salenzie’s office to hear the news.

“You’re late,” Salenzie began.

“Yeah, it’s late,” Steven pointed out, trying to get a grin out of his boss.

“Detective, we’ve just got word that there has been a killing up at Thimbault’s estate.”

“Thimbault’s estate? But isn’t that…”

“Yes, where the haunted smart house is. I’ve sent some officer’s ahead of you to do some crowd control but I need your detective skills to figure out what’s happened.”

“I’ll go right away, sir.”

“Don’t hit anybody on your way. The last thing I need to get is a phone call proclaiming that one my officers hit a scarecrow-child.”

“I’ll keep my eyes out.”

Even with his sirens on it still took Steven twenty minutes to get to the scene of the crime. There were children screaming and running up and down the streets. He even saw some with baskets of eggs, like it was Easter but he didn’t have time to intercept them. At the scene, the officers had removed most of the crowds. However, the channel 4 news was there now.

“In only the first month of the first year of its operation, Dr. Thimbault’s Haunted House has been faced with a traumatic event. We have received knowledge that a young man has been murdered here tonight,” Steven heard the reporter announcing to the camera.

“Bloody rats,” Steven whispered, having gained a great annoyance to news related folks. He snuck passed the reported unnoticed and made his way to the house.

“Detective Harrold, it’s good to see you,” said Jessica, a young officer.

“Always a pleasure Jessica,” Steven had learned that small, short sentences were best around Jessica. Anything else would give her the wrong idea. “Where’s the body?”

“Upstairs on the third floor.”

Not the third floor, Steven thought. It hadn’t even been a month since he was scared to tears on that very floor.

“Is the attraction shut down?”

“Yes, don’t worry, nothing will be there to scare you now.”

Steven glared at her, wondering if she somehow found out about his little meltdown on the first night. He cleared his throat. “Good to know.”

Steven relived the horrifying rooms of the house on each floor, working his way toward the top. The house actually looked really nice when there weren’t monsters jumping out at you at every corner. When he reached the last room of the second floor he heard, “Welcome back Steven.”

“What!?” he jumped. Shaking, he looked around with his flashlight. “It was nothing Steven,” he told himself, “nothing.”

The third floor was much brighter this time around and he was certain that he hadn’t heard anything now. A few other officers were looking around the house for any signs of a suspect.

“Evening, Steven,” said Officer Jordan.

“Evening, Jordan. Find anything worth mentioning yet?”

“Nope, but you can go look at the body over there.”

She gestured toward the place where the body lay. It was the same place that Steven was tortured by the nail grinding sound Dracon had made. The boy on the floor was gruesomely beat up. Bruises appeared on his arms and face. There was blood all over the floor and the boy’s neck had a large, open wound. There was no major evidence of a weapon. Suddenly, there was a sound movement in the next room. Jordan and Steven jumped, pulling their guns out.

“Let’s go,” Steven whispered.

They hurried into the next room, hoping to find the killer.

“Freeze!” They yelled simultaneously as they banged the door down.

There, on top of the large wardrobe was a great horned owl that looked guiltily toward a lamp it seemed to have knocked over.

“Darn bird,” Officer Jordan proclaimed angrily.

“Detective!!” a voice yelled from the other room.

Steven rushed back to where the body was to see Jessica with a look a sheer shock in her hazel eyes. The body was gone.

“It was there just a second ago, I swear!” she said in a panic. “I’m getting out of this house.”

Steven stared at the puddle of blood, reflecting a look of confusion on his face. What is going on here? He thought.

“Jordan, did we get an ID on that body?”

“No sir, we couldn’t find anything.”

“The boy should’ve had a wrist band with his ticket number on it. Did we get that before the body disappeared?” he demanded hastily.

“I don’t know, I’ll go check with forensics.”

Steven pulled out his Razor cellphone and dialed the Chief.

“Whatcha got for my Harrold?” said the Chief

“Nothing sir. That’s why I’m calling. The body has vanished.”

“What?! How did you lose the body!?”

“Sir, Officer Jessica was in the room when it disappeared. She didn’t see anything and doesn’t know what happened. I’m waiting to hear back from forensics to see if they picked up any ID.”

“Well, keep me posted Harrold. I don’t want the news to find out we lost the body.”

Steven hurried down the stairs to check and see if Jordan had found anything.

“Forensics says that the boy didn’t have a wristband. He must’ve snuck in.” said Jordan.

“Dang it! We really could’ve used that. The Chief will be pissed. Can we access the security tapes yet?”

“There aren’t any tapes,” Jordan said, irritated.

“What do you mean there aren't any tapes?” Harrold asked.

“Well, the security system had been shut down this evening, it’s like the house was malfunctioning.”

“Great. The chief isn’t going to want to hear that either.”

“So what now Detective?”

“We’ll have to put it in our John Doe’s until we gather more information. Until then, this attraction is going to have to be shut down for good.”

The police cars silently left the premises and Dr. Thimbault’s Haunted House came to a close. For the next few years, the truth about what happened that dark Halloween night became urban legend. No one dared go near the old mansion, and the case of the disappearing body was locked away in the unsolved files.

Wednesday, September 26, 2018


When I was first asked about the day I would die, I thought that the strange man asking me was a straight looney. Well, he was actually, but he was also really inspiring.

He said, “If you could choose the date and time of your death, would you?”

I told him that the thought of knowing when you would die would likely drive you to madness, and that nothing would ever make me decide to do that. He shrugged his shoulder’s and gave me his card.

“Well, if you ever find a time when you are ready to decide, give me a call.”

Flash forward five years, my life is in a rut, and everyone I thought loved me had abandoned me. I didn’t think I could live for much longer in my current state. I started packing up my things and leaving notes around my apartment so that those who were once close to me could find them. While I was organizing some things, I found an old business card I’d tucked away.

Dave Spenellio
D-Day Specialist
1368 S Watchtower DR. Kennysville, KY
(343) 673-3284

I never thought my life would come to the point to where I could have the option to choose between dying and death. Dave knew the difference. I dialed his number, which gratefully still worked.

“Hello, Dave speaking.”

“Dave, you probably don’t remember me, but we met a few years ago and discussed the option of choosing the date and time of your own death. I was wondering if I could maybe set that up with you?”

“Ah, so you’ve decided that it’s time to know when you’re going to die? Perfect. Well, when are you thinking?”

“As soon as possible. When are you available?”

“Well…it’s not about my availability, but our first opening is next Wednesday around noon. Where are you located now?”

“I’m in New York. I could do next Wednesday.”

“Alright. Consider it done. We’ll talk later this week about logistics. But at noon next Wednesday, just take a nice walk through Central Park. We’ll find you,” he said.

I hung up the phone. It was a strange feeling knowing I was going to die. However, it also felt very freeing, knowing that in a week’s time, I’d be free. It was almost enlightening.

A few days passed. Dave and I have been discussing how he’d get paid after all was said and done, and as such I sent him a $1,000 non-refundable “service fee”. I didn’t have much money left and spent the next few days eating instant ramen and string cheese. Before I knew it, Tuesday evening had come and the countdown to D-Day was in full-effect. I was perusing my email one last time, when I got an urgent message in my inbox:

Dear beloved one in the Lord “MrSparkles4980@hotmail.com”

I am contacting you after my fasting and prayer to my good God to give me an honest man or woman that will handle this Assignment. You were revealed to me by God and it is my desire of going into relationship with you. I am Mrs. Anna Babayeve I am a Gold Farmer and diamond dealer. I am a merchant of Russia nationality but presently residing in Australia, I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer and only have a day to live. I am currently admitted in a private hospital, and I have some funds I inherited from my late loving husband Mr. John Steel Babayeve, the sum of $10,500,000 US which he deposited in WEZESHA TRUST BANK  EAST KENYA, and I need a very honest and Lord fearing Christian that can use these funds for The Lord’s work and 20% out of the total funds will be for your compensation for doing this work of The Lord. I found your email address from the internet and decide to contact you. Please if you would be able to use these funds for the Lord's work kindly reply me with your bank account and routing number. Thank you and May The Lord bless you.

Your Sister In The Lord,


I brushed it off as I usually do with scam emails, besides I was in no way a good Christian fellow seeking to do “The Lord’s work”. I mean, I had just paid a man to kill me the following afternoon. I kept scrolling and mindlessly staring at my computer, when an interesting thought crossed my mind. I went back to the email and responded.


I will send you my account information, save it be that The Good Lord takes my life tomorrow, I will proceed with the Assignment with the funds you provide.

Your Lost Lordly Brother,


I chuckled to myself, added my account information, and hit send. Tomorrow was the day I would die, and if someone needed to steal the last $3,252.49 I had, then so be it. I placed all of my family notes around asking them not to mourn the death of me and to move forward with their lives. Then, I quietly retired to my bed and fell soundly asleep.

The next morning, I arrived at Central Park at 11:00 am. It was a truly beautiful day and since it was my last, I appreciated it that much more. You never really truly appreciate the world around you until you’re close to leaving it. I walked around the park, looking for any sign of Dave or his “hitman”, but to no avail. At 11:33, I got a notification on my phone.

A deposit? I opened my Wells Bargo app and nearly dropped my phone. My account now had $10,503,252.49. Anna had made a deposit of 10.5 million dollars into my account with the memo: “May the Lord Be With You.” I was stunned. I was sure I was dreaming. There was no way that this lady was real. I’ve received hundreds of spam emails, asking for the same information, but I wouldn’t have dared sent anyone my bank account information before yesterday.

I sat on a bench and just stared into the sky. I was a multi-millionaire, and now I didn’t know what I was going to do what such a responsibility. Then, my phone vibrated again. It was an unknown number and all it said was, “We’re here.”

I nearly swore my way to France, when I suddenly realized it was 11:50 am and I was scheduled to die in 10 minutes. Not to mention, I was in the middle of Central Park. I texted back, “Take your $1,000, I’m out.”

To which they responded, “Too late, cancellation has to be at the latest 12 hours before D-Day time.”

I had ten minutes to run faster and longer than I ever had in my entire life. I picked what I thought was the shortest way out, pulled up my hoodie, and ran for my life, literally.

I ran until I could taste blood in my mouth and my lungs burned. I didn’t have time to look at how long it had been, how much longer I had. I made it to the edge of Central Park, but didn’t stop. I ran through traffic, down alleyways, and back toward my nicely organized and packed apartment. I passed out once I got inside.

The next thing I remember, is my phone vibrating in my pocket. Dazed and disoriented, I sat up, my vision still returning. I pulled out my phone.

“If you ever change your mind, give us a call. -Dave.”

I blocked his number, laid down on my bed, then called my mom to apologize and tell her I loved her.

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

When the Train was Late

The train was supposed to come early, that night in the early winter. It was probably October, I was working a dead-end job selling knick-knacks designed to attracts tourists. I was I college at the time and barely made enough for rent, let alone a car. I closed most nights and would usually just walk the two blocks back to my beat-down apartment. However, it was snowing that night and, according to the ETA flashing on the screen, the train was supposed to come early. The worst part about the first snow-fall of the winter is that you’re never prepared for it. I was wearing a black v-neck sweater, black slacks, and a pair of fine-leather dress shoes, work required it. I stood alone on the platform, ear-buds in, blocking out the cold and the rest of existence. Then, I felt someone standing behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find a beautiful girl standing there wearing a white winter coat, as if she had been hoping that winter would start that day. I removed my ear-buds and did something I’d never done before. I initiated a conversation with a stranger. Well, more specifically with a female who was about my age and a stranger.

“So, are you enjoying this weather?”

What? That’s the best I had? Like a depressed weatherman who hasn’t forecast good weather in over six months, I shuffled slightly away, hoping she didn’t hear me. Then, the unexpected happened. She spoke.

“Yes, actually, I love winter! It’s my favorite time of year and the snow is just the beginning of that.”

I was hoping to initiate a bashing conversation on how much the cold sucked, and how, even though Autumn was just ending, I could wait until Spring. We small chatted for a minute, until the train pulled up.

I pushed the door button and let her get on first, like a gentleman, then carefully took my seat a fair distance away from her. Then, as is tradition when riding the train, I put one ear-bud back in and acted like I’d never spoken to her or any other human in my life. There were only two stops before I’d be getting off, and I really didn’t think much of the situation.
At the first stop, her friend got on and they started chatting about a party that was coming up that weekend. It was a pretty large event, I mean, even I was aware of it. So, I reverted back into the conversation, hoping to find out some more details and maybe even run into her there. Anything was possible for me at that point in time.

Then, the train pulled into my stop. I stood up and made my way to the door.

“So, maybe I’ll see you at the party this weekend?”

Then, I got out and left. She barely had time to nod, let alone speak.

I will never forget the way she looked at me as the doors closed and they pulled away. For once, I was grateful that the train was supposed to come early that night but didn’t.

Monday, September 24, 2018

All was Lost

All was lost.

I was sure of it. I had come to such an emotional low that I wasn’t sure I could continue anymore. I was so incredibly self-centered that I pushed everyone who was closest to me away. I came to the point one could only explain as rock-bottom. My wife and children left me, which I was sure was the right thing for me and for us. Then, something happened. It was like God smacked me in the head with a golden baseball bat.

I was sitting alone in my now empty home. No wife, no kids, just me. For the past few years it’s all I thought I wanted. But now that it’s all happened, I’ve realized that being alone isn’t what I thought it would be. Sure, the first few weeks we’re awesome! I was able to do what I wanted whenever I wanted. No rules. No arguments. No questioning my motives. After the first month though, being alone was just that: lonely. How did it end up this way? I was justified in my emotions. I was sure that I was right in asking for a divorce, asking for a way to break free of the madness she caused me.
Madness. Who’s the crazy one now? Everywhere I look there’s silence, brief echoes of children laughing down the hall, of the life I once had. I miss them. I want them to come back. If only the person I am now could go back six months, two years, and shake myself out of the self-centered mindset I was in. Then, I’d be happy.

“If only you would say I’m right and that my position is valid. Then, I’d be happy.” Impossible expectations and standards on everyone I loved. How could I have been such a fool to let the Devil take over my mind and soul?

Where are my parents, my siblings in all this? Well, in my pride and my self-righteousness, I pushed them away too. Didn’t think it was possible, but it turns out that when you judge and criticized others as much as I did, in the name of love, people start to disassociate with you to protect themselves. I perceived my existence as a way to help other people become better, but in actuality I was crushing their self-worth and demanding they live up to my standard of life.

All was lost.

I came out of the shadows. I apologized to everyone for my misjudgments and perceptions (or lack thereof). Although hard for me to accept, not everyone needs to live their lives the way I think they should. But since I believed that, I tore people down. I was superior in intellect and knowledge, I knew how they should live their lives better than they did. I was so full of pride, that I interpreted it as a form of love. I justified my incredulous opinions on others and as such was left alone.

But now, I’m different. I’m changing my ways. My knowledge isn’t supposed to be used to shove people down as some form of hard love. I’m supposed to lift people up and be a positive influence in there lives. Success isn’t about trying to force others to conform to my way of life, it’s about enabling others to find their own path using the tools I’ve created. I’m not perfect, and I’m okay with that now.

Unfortunately, not everything can go back to the way it was. I burned too many bridges and cut too many people too deep. I wish I would’ve known this sooner. I wish I would’ve listened to those who genuinely cared and tried to warn me. But I believed their opinion irrelevant because they are less intelligent than me, or have fewer degrees of education.

I find that I am like Thanos: Trying to cleanse the universe because I believe it’s the right thing to do, because my intellect deemed me worthy to make those decisions. Now, I have to ask myself every day. Was it worth the price? Was it worth losing everything and any ounce of respect I had left with those who love me?

No. It wasn’t.

And so, I am alone, all is still lost, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Friday, September 21, 2018

Taking the Climber’s Hand

I was part of a mighty mountain, until a climber came and 

knocked me off my pedestal, loosening me. 

At first I was upset, until I saw his face: 

Tears flooded on my broken body and I felt his hand. 

In my falling, I’d caught the man,  

pinning him with my body. 

Hand stuck, he struggled, pulled, screamed, 

Looking for a way out. 

If only I could be a pillow,  

soft, light, and cushioned.  

He could rest his tired head on me, 

and not his dying soul. 

A stabbing in my side woke me 

the next morning. 

The climber made a chisel, denting, scratching 

But my body wouldn’t budge, we were wedged together.  

I felt worse when it rained. 

Pouring, soaking, gasping, 

Drowning, flowing water still 

couldn’t free him from my grasp.  

He struggles, thoughts of death mutter from his lips, 

he finally breaks free.  

He even left a special gift for me: 

His hand.  

Withered and without life, 

Yet still I’ve held onto it tight.  

I may not have been a comfort to his tired head, 

But I held his hand, as he escaped death. 

Wednesday, September 19, 2018


                  Pick a natural occurrence: wind, sun rays, rain crashing down like large goblets  

                              I’d choose wind because it brushes from side to side, never seen,   

                                never hides, yet still it comes from Nowhere. Like God took   

                                  a shower and needed to blow dry, it varies in temperature,   

                                    hot, cold to frozen. Wind is pleasant flowing through   

                                          loose strands of hairs, combing the dying leaves   

                                               of autumn across the streets. Wind destroys  

                                                    everything in its path of resistance  

                                                         flurries and hail beat apart cars  

                                                            and houses the mighty force   

                                                               of wind behind it. Weapons   

                                                                  of mass destruction, yet   

                                                                   natural. A hot and cold   

                                                                     front to spiral down   

                                                                        to earth, sending   

                                                                             people to   


  Wind is a beautiful thing, so long that it stays where it belongs. On the ground, it becomes disaster.